


Amidst The Shadows

by WinterPendragon



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Blood Magic, Cliffhangers, Confident Cullen, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dark Character, Dark Cullen, Dark Cullen Rutherford, Denerim (Dragon Age), Dragon Age Lore, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Frostback Mountains (Dragon Age), Fucking, Heavy BDSM, Kinky Cullen Rutherford, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Love, Mages (Dragon Age), Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Orlais (Dragon Age), Orlesian Chevaliers, Plot, Plot Twists, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Templars (Dragon Age), medieval romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-07 10:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 169
Words: 837,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterPendragon/pseuds/WinterPendragon
Summary: "Enshrouded in his black cloak of chaos, his was a most perfect soul, a raw reality, a splendid and passionate being torn between the highs and lows of this crumbling prison that we call life. Yet he left me with such cruelty I could not fathom....."Amidst The Shadows is a dark Dragon Age smut literature fan-fic that delves into the life of the mage Inquisitor, Ophelia Trevelyan, during her time at Skyhold and after the Inquisition. The story focuses on her romantic involvement with Commander Cullen Rutherford, and Orlesian chevalier Michel de Chevin.The plot evolves around the life of the passionate and shadowy Commander Cullen and his tortured past as a templar in Ferelden and Kirkwall. The story also focuses on the life of the valiant and romantic Michel de Chevin, an Orlesian noble knight tied up in many secrets and scandals.If you enjoyed reading this story please show your support and leave a kudos :-) it takes a second to click the kudos button and means a lot to me as a writer (and encourages me to write more). Thank you!





	1. Guilty Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> Reader Warning: This story is rated R and is only suitable for adults. If you are offended by graphic sex, dark content and all round smuttiness then this story is not for you. However, if you are fond of a good adventure and loads of sex in between, come on board and enjoy the ride! 
> 
> So...where to begin? Well I began writing this story four years ago and it was based on an episode of Nip Tuck (seasson 6, ep 13 - Joel Seabrook) where Jonny Rees (Cullen voice actor) talks about auto-erotic asphyxiation. Essentially he says a lot of what Cullen talks about it in the first chapter. It was intended as a one chapter piece and....well, I ended up writing a 700,000 word (and still ongoing) story on it. So.....yeah.....I tend to take things too far sometimes. I love writing this story and I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> If you enjoy the story please leave kudos. Lots of effort goes into my stories and it makes all the difference to show your support (even if it's just clicking that button to say you kudos it). Thanks heaps and happy reading!

**Chapter One: Guilty Pleasures**

_In my darkest dreams I do not dare_

_To fancy upon the deviant cares_

_For all I am is broken pieces_

_Of churning lust that never ceases…._

I awoke that morning hating everything. Hating Thedas and the Inquisition. Hating Corypheus and the breech. Hating Skyhold and it's cracked walls and crumbling roof. The repugnant smell of dung that lingered through the open windows, or the sound of hacking lungs coughing from the people in the courtyard below. The repetitive strike of a smithy hammer against the anvil echoing through the keep, and the constant caw of the ravens sitting on the battlements. All of it was filling me with insurmountable levels of rage.

The people that I had murdered never left my mind, their blood seeping into my dreams until I woke up screaming in terror and my sheets were drenched soaking wet with a cold sweat. I couldn't shake the horror of surviving the blast at the Chantry Conclave, or the attack on Haven. Seeing the people fall as I defended that damn trebuchet. I couldn't erase the memories of the dead. I tried to, by the Maker I really did, and sometimes I convinced myself that I was okay. But then I would walk into the main hall of Skyhold and start shaking uncontrollably, even violently, my hands quivering as I tried to hold them still to no avail. The shock takes it's hold and I am lost to it, like a hungry wolf in a forest finally finding it's prey.

I used to glorify the brave warriors of Thedas, and when I rose to the occasion of becoming one myself I dreamt of days where I would be that heroic mage soldier. I would destroy evil and protect the good. There would be no grey, no shadows, no in between. What did I know? My childish notions of good and evil dissipated when I discovered that there was no such thing as evil and no such thing as good, only a blurry shade of something in between. By the time I made this revelation it was too late. The faces of those I had killed never left my eyes, their voices never left my ears. When the last breath left their lips, I breathed it in as if I breathed in the very essence of their soul, and before I knew it that essence had consumed me and I had become a monster. I was the evil that I was trying to fight, staring back at me until I transformed into it over and over again.

According to the council, the Inquisition serves a righteous purpose. So why do I find myself murdering so many innocents in the name of our cause? People who have been victimised and forced to fight on a side, just like I have? Only some people are on the wrong side in the eyes of the Inquisition. We shall dispose of them for the greater good. What is that? I know deep in my heart that this is not glory. It is anything but.

I spent the day trying to forget my woes, and by nightfall I was drenched in Golden Scythe 4:90 Black, wandering the battlements in hope of a friend. The evening was filled with drunken cheer, spilling out of The Herald's Rest and onto the stone courtyard of the keep, but it was nothing to the oblivion I had found myself in. No rowdy soldier or sloshed mage could appease me now in the utter lament that had befallen upon me.

_Cullen_.

I let out a heavy sigh as my thoughts lingered on the ex-templar. The Commander intrigued me. A man so serious that he hardly ever smiled, always keeping himself busy, and when you looked at him you could tell he was plagued by events in his past. Another tortured soul, perhaps we did have something in common? Not that we were friends. Cullen was a singular sort of man, keeping to himself for the most part. When I had crossed paths with him in the hope of exchanging a few words he would often sternly walk by. I understood the desire to be alone, I wasn't judging him for his behaviour. When Thedas has messed with you one too many times, all you desire is to be rid of the place and the people in it. A moment of silence, when there is just you and your darker thoughts to contend with. Nothing more, nothing less.

My eyes were blurry and I knew I should not dare venture near his study, not in this intrepid state, but the spirits had numbed my senses and I pushed forward. Stumbling over the cold stone steps, climbing the battlements with sheer determination, I approached Cullen's secluded part of Skyhold. Twisting the handle of the door, I was surprised that it was open, and even more so surprised that there was no one in his office. It was late and I should have known better. I knew I should have left, but I heard noises from his quarters in the loft above. Damn my curiosity, but it had gotten the better of me.

Fumbling for the rungs of the ladder, I pulled myself up quietly, peeking up into the loft above. And there he was. Cullen was stripped down to his bare flesh, his rigid cock full mast and hard. His hands were wrapped around his meaty member, and his eyes were closed, moaning so loudly I had no fear of being heard. None of that mattered however as my eyes widened in fear. Wrapped tight around his neck and connected to the poster of the bed was a red silk cloth, cutting off the oxygen as he continued to furiously stroke his cock, red faced and vicious. His eyes kept rolling back, the moans louder and louder, wild crashing waves that threatened to drown him, and possibly would, as the air evaded him. He was unleashed and I had never seen this side to anyone, let alone the Commander, as his chest rose up and down, deeper and faster. Crimsoned faced, he let out a final loud cry, high pitched and drawn out, almost as if he was in agonising pain and sheer ecstasy all at the same time.

Loosening the ligature from his neck, a heavily panting Cullen collapsed backwards onto the pillows behind, depleted and apparently overly satisfied. His forearm was resting across his eyes, his member somewhat deflated now although it still lay long and semi aroused, and his stomach and chest were utterly coated in his white stickiness.

Dead in my tracks I remained on the stairs, head poking up into the loft, wide eyed and speechless. I needed to descend for at any moment Cullen would see me. Slowly, I took the first step down the ladder.

_Squeak_.

Withdrawing his arm, Cullen's amber eyes fearfully drew to the loft entrance. Grabbing a blanket to cover himself, his gaze fell hard upon me.

'Inquisitor.' he remarked in shock. His eyes drew around the room nervously, knowing he had been caught out and there was no escape, before turning to me once more. 'Please, could you give me some privacy.' he barked, his embarrassment now transforming to anger.

I didn't need to reply, I didn't even need to hear another word from Cullen. All I needed to do was escape from that room. I never descended a ladder as fast as I did that night, scaling down it like a frightened rat into the night, bolting through his study and scurrying into the shadows of a deserted part of the keep far, far away.

Feeling well sober now, I couldn't shake the image of Cullen gratifying himself like that. I had never seen self-stimulation taken to such an aggressive, insatiable level. It was heated and furious, as he unleashed his wrath on his member mercilessly. I caught my breath as my mind wandered to other thoughts. Was he trying to pleasure himself, or was he trying to…end his life? Is that was I had stumbled upon? Cullen's last moments in this world, only to be foiled by my sudden appearance?

'No.' I muttered, reassuring myself 'He took the silk tie off his neck. It was his choice.'.

I ambled back to my quarters and fell asleep in an exhausted heap. All I needed was another experience to be haunted by, and thanks to my damn wandering eyes I had succeeded in that. Not that it disturbed me like the other memories that plagued my mind. In secret, I had been fascinated, dare I say titillated, watching Cullen manipulate himself the way that he did. His muscular arms and torso, and the look on his face as his eyes rolled back in his head in sheer ecstasy. Wearily my eyes fluttered shut, a soft smile on my lips, as the realm of dreams took over my mind.

****

Sitting at my desk in Skyhold the next day, I was drowning in a pile of correspondence that seemed to never end. Offers of support to the Inquisition for the right price, favours, deals, and even a few death threats. It seemed everyone was out to profit from or destroy the Inquisition, and I was cursed to read each drivelous, rambling letter.

My head throbbing from the previous night's indulgence, I lifted a shaky hand to tear off some bread on a plate close by, eager to ease the growing nausea.

_Tap, tap, tap._

'Enter.' I called out wearily, expecting a messenger to present me with more letters, and to pile them unceremoniously on my table.

Ascending the stairs into my chambers however, the Commander walked in. He was dressed in his usual attire of metal cuirass, gauntlets and pauldrons, finished off with a red cloth and gorget of black raven feathers, his short mop of sandy blond waves neatly presented. Cullen looked at me almost arrogantly, a small curl on the right side of his lip where his white scar lay, throwing a smile my way.

'Inquisitor.' he remarked pleasantly.

'Cullen!' I replied hastily 'Uh..how can I help you?'

The atmosphere was awkward, and painfully drawn out as he stood firmly in front of me, a smirk ever present on his lips. Taking a few steps towards me, he stopped, rubbing his neck achingly as he looked my way.

'About the other night.' he remarked suddenly, his amber eyes piercing into mine 'Ah..don't get the wrong idea, I wasn't trying to kill myself. I wasn't trying to commit suicide. I was…._masturbating_.'.

He remained silent, eyes fixated on me as I stared back, stunned as I was in his chambers the previous night. Did I just hear what I thought he had said?

'I shouldn't have been there in the first place.' I replied with a frown 'You don't need to explain yourself.'. My cheeks were bright red, and I didn't need a looking glass to know that. They burned with intensity, like searing flames under my skin.

Cullen moved over to the seat by the bed and eased himself in it comfortably. 'I know,' he murmured 'I just wanted you to know, in case you thought it was...something untoward. I hope I did not frighten you.'. He ran his hand across the unshaven stubble of his jaw, as he continued to watch me.

I put down my quill and paper, and turned towards the Commander, giving him my full attention. He looked so calm and composed, considering the topic of discussion. The confidence was actually quite unnerving.

I shook my head in confusion. 'Forgive me but….what were you doing?' I asked.

'Autoerotic asphyxiation.' Cullen simply replied, adding mischievously. 'Got a ride. _My bad._'

He drummed his fingers across the armrest of the chair, the smirk on his face not diminishing in his admission. If anything it grew larger, as if he was enjoying my unease at the brutal honesty of his confession.

'You choked yourself. For an orgasm.' I replied doubtfully, a confused albeit uncomfortable smile on my face.

Cullen sighed, lifting his eyes to meet mine. 'It wasn't just an orgasm, it was the orgasm. Of a lifetime, you have no idea.' he chuckled, before noticing I was not reciprocating in his amusement. 'I'm sorry,' he replied apologetically, waving his hand 'I have never spoken to you of what happened to me at the Kinloch Hold in Ferelden, and then in Kirkwall. Sufficed to say, life has been...hard. Unforgiving to be brutally honest. I try to forget a lot of what has happened and it never goes well. So I resort to...other vices, to sate my desire to be happy, for a little while at least.'

Some part of me knew what he meant. That desire to forget that which never went away.

'So it felt good then?' I inquired curiously, blushing slightly at the question although knowing I secretly was growing more aroused as the conversation progressed.

Cullen laughed. 'Better than any drug you've ever had, although I've ever had includes a quite extensive list I can tell you.' he muttered. He rubbed his neck achingly around the base of his neck, moving his shoulders side to side. His amber eyes smiled wickedly at mine and I caught myself feeling very turned on by the Commander. 'How long where you watching for?' he asked softly.

'Uhhh,' I replied shakily 'not that long. Just the end really.'. I was mumbling and shifting my eyes anywhere but to my companion. I knew he could sense my discomfort, but why did I get the feeling he was actually enjoying it?

'It is okay,' he whispered 'I am not angry that you saw me. In fact..'. He ran his thumb teasingly across his bottom lip '...the thought of it excites me more than a little.'

A short, sharp breath released from my lips as I grinned back slyly 'Perhaps I enjoyed watching more than I should admit.'

'Better and better.' Cullen chuckled in response.

'Isn't it a tad bit dangerous though?' I remarked suddenly 'I mean, strangling yourself is never safe now, is it?'

He shrugged 'Risky actions excite me I confess. Perhaps it was all the years of brutal willpower enforced upon us as templars, forgoing everything for one's duty. All those years of wanting to lose all sense of fucking control and never having that release.'. Cullen ran a hand loosely through his sandy blonde hair as he drew a deep breath 'The act itself creates this semi-hallucinogenic state, then you bring in the act of stimulating yourself.'. Noticing my perplexed expression, Cullen straightened in his chair 'Look, all I'm saying is you cut off the flow of blood and oxygen to the brain, your dick gets unbelievably hard. It's why these guys who are hung get these stonking boners and ejaculate when they die. _You get this euphoria_...'. Cullen's voice was smouldering as he described the act, like warm, oozing honey.

I caught myself holding my breath as he spoke so freely of his darkest fetish. We had never even spoken as friends, and now...this. I adjusted the position in my seat, feeling the ever slight sensation of warm arousal between my legs.

'It sounds pleasant enough.' I quipped back teasingly, trying to diffuse the intensity in the room that threatened to consume me.

Cullen laughed in response. 'Pleasant is nothing compared to it. It's like having one foot in heaven.' he replied softly 'Sex is a portal to the Maker. That feeling of every nerve and fibre of your being filled with complete pleasure, losing yourself in that moment and everything blurs into pure fucking elation.'. He shook his head, as if even the very thought was sending shivers all over his body 'The act itself is enough of a reward to make me cope with the rest of the shit I have to deal with in my head on a daily basis.'

'I know the feeling of wanting to escape.' I murmured 'You saw a quite sloshed version of me last night. Vices make life worth living sometimes, eh?'

Cullen raised an amused eyebrow 'If I may ask, what were you doing wandering about in my chambers at so late an hour?'

I bit my lip. 'I just wanted to say hello.' I lied. I knew what I wanted to happen. Every time I was near Cullen all I wanted was for him to put his hands all over me and push me hard up against a wall, kissing me until I was begging for mercy.

As if guessing what dark and dirty thoughts were filling my mind, Cullen slowly rose to his feet. With drawn out steps he approached me, never tearing his eyes from mine. My chest was rising heavily up and down as he towered in front of me, finally placing his hands gingerly on my waist so our hips were facing directly in front of each other.

'Hello.' he murmured devilishly, a wide grin growing on his lips.

Cullen's lips were pale pink, full and tender, and I saw that white scar begging for me to lap at it with my tongue. I wanted to suck it, to bite it and devour it.

I let out a chuckle at his reply, but only for a moment, before I was quietened once more as Cullen drew his hands, lingering along the curves of my figure, teasing me with his touch. Moving his hands to my breasts, he rubbed his thumbs across my mounds, over my nipples, fondling the fabric standing in the way, before placing his right thumb between his lips, licking his digit and coating it with his saliva.

Easing my top down with his other hand, my breasts were presented bare and shivering as he pinched his wet thumb and forefinger hard over my right nipple in an unforgiving manner. I yelped from the surprise of the sensation, but it felt good. Too good.

'Pain and pleasure.' Cullen murmured softly, as he pulled and pinched my nipple, refusing to let go. He leant his head towards mine, brushing his lips against mine but refusing to submit to what I expected. I tried to move closer, but he withdrew his face, his lips curled in a smirk. 'Does the Inquisitor want to play? Perhaps experience the drug I speak of?' he asked gently, lulling me to him as his hands ran across my bare arms.

'If you show me how,' I murmured breathlessly 'I want to.'

'I would like that also.' smouldered the Commander 'I can take you places you have only dared to entertain in your wildest fucking fantasies, but you need to trust me. And if you are willing, let me do what needs to be done.'

'Including the silk sash?' I asked precariously.

'I confess I did not think to bring it with me.' mused Cullen, his eyes lighting up suddenly as he moved his hand to his armour 'But I think we could improvise, just this once.'

Cullen moved his hands to the large belt around his waist securing the red material, and unbuckled it, placing it carefully on the desk. He then commenced removing the feather shoulder piece, before unwrapping the red material and dropping it to the ground. As he unbuckled and pulled off his armour, piece by piece, he held my gaze fiercely and I dared not turn from it. Pulling his metal gorget over his head, he dropped it with a loud bang against the cold stone floor of the chambers, followed by the cuirass, gauntlets, pauldrons, faulds, greaves, cuisses, tassets and poleyns. Finally all that remained was a loose white shirt and black cotton pants, his hair slightly dishevelled in brushed waves of sandy blonde.

Lifting the shirt over his head, Cullen revealed his torso, rippled with muscles across his abdomen. His smooth, pale white skin was sun kissed and revealed a few long, white scars from former days of battle. Cullen grinned widely as I blatantly stared at him, unwilling to look away from such a fine chiselled work of art.

'Would you like me to take off my pants?' he asked mischievously, a low growl in his voice.

I knew I couldn't wait that long and rushed over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing my mouth to his, but the Commander pulled away again.

'You will get your reward when I say so.' he replied sternly but still holding a soft smile 'Now, take off your clothes.'

I let out a gasp, followed by a laugh. Cullen's authoritative nature was even more arousing behind closed doors. I wanted to yield to his will, to let him take full control over me. Standing close to me, the Commander was easily one foot taller than me and much stronger as well. He could overpower me so easily and I wanted him to. Something in me wanted him to use that strength against me until I was begging for his mercy.

I pulled the black top I was wearing hastily over my head, exposing my pale breasts and torso, before unbuckling my belt and pulling off my pants, leaving me in my bloomers and nothing else.

'I said all of it.' Cullen ordered dangerously, using the stern voice he presented for the recruits in the training circle.

Cullen leant back against the desk to watch me step out of my under garments, and I presented myself naked in front of him, waiting with an intrigued grin.

A satisfied sigh left his wicked lips as he held his gaze fast on me. I could see he was aroused, his pikestaff was pushing unforgivingly hard and upwards from under his pants. Cullen caught my line of vision and chuckled.

'All in good time,' he remarked softly 'now come.'.

With one hand he pulled the belt off the desk, and with the other he took my hand, leading me to my bed. Cullen sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled me to straddle his lap, his member prodding beneath me as I placed myself across his legs.

'Tonight you are my lady, and I am your Commander.' he informed with a grin as he gently brought his hands across my back, slowly bringing his belt to my neck.

Never leaving my eyes, he slowly wrapped the leather strap around my neck as I breathed heavily in my chest, trying to control the nervous tension I was feeling. Cullen tightened the belt so it sat firm around my jugular, but I could still breathe easily. Looking into my eyes he pulled it a little tighter.

'What do you say?' he growled.

My heart was beating fast as I caught my breath. Cullen played the authoritative role a little too well and it was driving me crazy.

'Yes Commander'. I smirked.

I couldn't believe I was entertaining such peverse delights in my chambers at Skyhold with Commander Cullen, of all people. It was dirty and utterly perfect.

With a smile that flashed his brilliant white teeth he loosened his grip, letting the belt rest around my neck as he cupped my face, bringing his lips close to mine, barely touching. 'When I fuck you tonight,' he whispered 'I am going to tighten your leash so you cannot breathe. You need to ride that wave of pleasure, let it fill you like an empty cup, and take you higher and higher than ever before. When you get scared, do not be afraid. Your brain will tell you to breathe but you need to trust me. Your body will thank you when you experience the greatest fucking high you have ever reached.'

'What about you?' I asked 'Do you want me to tie something...?'

Cullen smiled 'I shall take that in my own hands, don't worry. You have a lot to learn. Now, on your back.'

The Commander stood up and in one swift yank pulled off his black pants, revealing a hard full mast erection in front. It was long and quite thick, with a smooth bulbous shining head. I wanted to touch it ever so badly.

Cullen pushed me back on the bed as he spread my legs, bending them at the knees.

'You have been good, my lady, for listening to your Commander and letting him play with you thus far. You shall get a boon, I think.' murmured Cullen, as he brought his lips onto the soft skin of my inner thigh. My stomach fluttered as he began to place light, wet kisses starting from the inner side of my right knee, trailing upwards with soft and teasing puckers until he reached between my legs.

His warm breath tickled my lips and heated my exposed fleshy entrance as he looked up to me, lustfully. 'Our first kiss, my lady.' he whispered, as lowered his lips onto mine and bestowed upon them an open mouthed kiss. I gasped as Cullen's tongue ran along my labia, the point teasing the bud of my clitoris in cheeky swirls. He chuckled in amusement as he produced a delighted groan from my throat.

Two of Cullen's fingers dipped into my moist depths as he continued to assault my pink, fleshy entrance with his tongue. Sucking and licking and lapping, in swirls and flicks, over and over again. My breathing was ragged as my hips rose higher to greet him, and Cullen moaned as he lapped at my juices, sucking them enthusiastically before lifting his head with a wide grin.

'A perfect first kiss.' he remarked pleasantly, looking extremely mischievous.

The templar crawled over me as I remained laying down, his strong, muscular arms supporting his weight as he continued to prowl towards me. Except he did not stop when his eyes met mine, only to throw a wicked look before moving higher above me until I was looking up, face to face, with his hot and furious dick.

'Open wide, if you please, my lady.' Cullen smouldered, but I was already ahead of him, eagerly rounding my lips as he eased into my mouth. I could taste the salty pre cum on his head, tangy and moreish as the soft smooth skin of his hardened member filled me. Cullen was so warm, so exquisite, and I wanted to devour him whole. I could hear Cullen grunting softly above me as he began to move his hips slowly with small thrusts in my mouth, over and over again as I tried to take him in. Cullen was being purposely gentle, and I soon realised why, finding myself gagging on his rather large intruder. His skin was so smooth and his scent musky, and I felt that desire he spoke of filling me as he filled me.

'Try to relax, and hold your throat open as I go deeper.' murmured Cullen, pulling out for a moment to ready me before entering in again. With a deep breath I relaxed, trying to stop my gag reflex as I felt him slowly draw his entire length in, holding it in at the hilt for a few moments until I found myself gagging once more. He left me gasping as he withdrew, but I felt extremely titillated by the experience.

'Did you like my tasty morsel, my lady?' Cullen smouldered, looking down at me from further above, a few small waves of his hair brushing down on his forehead. I knew he was checking to see if I was alright, and I liked that even in his dirtiest moments he still held that concern.

'Yes Commander.' I hoarsely replied with a devious smile, before I was greeted by Cullen's member sliding into my mouth once more.

Cullen was straddling my chest now, and I could enjoy the view of his sturdy, muscular thighs as he pumped into my mouth. In one long thrust, he held his member deep in my throat, only this time he pinched my nose, holding me in place. Unable to breathe for a few moments, he released me again and withdrew, the pleasure creeping over me as I gasped under him.

''The lack of oxygen is exhilarating,' he remarked 'but it is only half the pleasure. You need to combine it with a body wracking, ground shaking orgasm to feel the full effects of what I speak.'. Dismounting me, Cullen pulled me up with a smirk, as he led me to the balcony. 'Rest your hands on the ledge and look out across the view.' ordered the Commander.

Naked and exposed, I could feel the cold air nip at my chest and pink exposed lips.

Thwack!

I cried out suddenly as Cullen landed a large, flat smack on my behind with his hand. He was a strong man and knew how to deal a blow. My ass stung as he rubbed it tenderly with his hand afterwards. Running his fingers up to the belt still hanging around my neck he pulled it towards him, whispering softly in my ear.

'Do you like your arse being spanked by Commander Cullen?' he murmured.

'By the Maker, yes.' I replied breathlessly, giddy with excitement.

Thwack.

I cried out in real pain this time.

Cullen pulled the belt sharper 'You didn't call me Commander.' he growled 'You need to be punished.'

Leaning over, he placed a few soft kisses on my cheek before laying a stinging slap on my other cheek. It felt sharp but pleasurable, the wetness growing within me, and I moaned louder and louder as he continued to slap my arse until it was bright red and warm to the touch.

Falling to his knees, Cullen placed kiss after kiss along my derriere until I was mewing like a kitten. My pink lips exposed, he offered a long lingering lick along my labia, pushing his tongue in between the folds. I gasped as Cullen began to assault my well wet depths again, moaning deeper as I was filled with his tongue. He held my hips sturdy as he open mouthed kissed my lips, over and over again. I squirmed in pleasure but he would not cease, driving his tongue more furiously against my clit until I started to moan louder and louder, a wild relentless pleasure building up.

I couldn't stop the waves coming over me, the intensity of his tongue was bringing me closer to release on every lick. Lifting my leg higher on the balcony, Cullen had full access as he assaulted my entrance, sucking and slurping until I felt my muscles tighten and I revealed a high pitched yell that echoed across the peaks. My body was wracked with an uncontrollable convulsion as I came hard onto his mouth, and Cullen remained eagerly in position as he sucked greedily at my nectar that was now flowing steadily.

I crumbled over the ledge of the balcony, but Cullen swept me up in his arms tenderly, holding me close. He looked down into my eyes gently, lowering his head as he brought his lips to mine and kissed me deeply. It was a soft and passionate kiss as he explored my mouth, moaning softly into mine before pulling away.

'By the Maker, you make me feel fucking alive.' he whispered breathlessly, as he carried me to the bed.

I was panting, still recovering from the pleasurable assault on the balcony, but I managed to cup my hands across his chiselled jaw and bring my mouth onto his once more, heatedly kissing his soft lips.

'I want you to take me, all of me.' I whispered 'I want to take one step closer to the Maker with you.'

Cullen released an aroused groan, smiling as he moved over to pick up the red cloth of his attire, lying on the ground. Standing before me, he wrapped the red cloth around his broad neck, wrapping it a few times round, presenting himself like a present.

'The first time is like nothing you have ever experienced.' he warned 'If you've never felt yourself losing your fucking mind, you are about to.'

Leaning over the corner bedpost at the headboard of the bed, he looped one end of the material around the pillar, lying down on the bed but not letting go of the cloth in his hand as it connected securely to his neck.

'One tug and I will be joining you soon enough.' he grinned, beckoning me to move towards him. His pikestaff was hard and furious, standing tall and ready. 'Climb on top of me.' he purred with a smile, eyes fixated on my body as I crawled over to him.

Positioning myself over his lap, Cullen torturously positioned his member to my entrance, covering his dick with my wetness before I lowered myself onto him. Cullen impaled me, thick inch by inch, moaning in release as he filled himself to the hilt.

'Maker's breath.' he murmured shakily as I started to move on top of him, sliding him in and out of my depths, my weight falling onto his shaft and transforming us both into quivering, breathless participants. The sensation had me rolling my eyes back in my head and finding words too difficult to ever murmur.

Cullen's eyes were also lulling shut, his head leaning back and exposing the red material tied firm around his muscular neck, his hand holding onto the other end firmly but not pulling on it...yet. I could feel the Commander getting more and more aroused on every thrust, moving his hips higher to greet me on every ride, and a soft moan escaped his lips, over and over again.

Opening his amber eyes once more, he ran his free hand across my breasts before cupping my cheek tenderly.

'Trust me.' he murmured as he brought his hand to the belt still wrapped around my neck.

The ex-templar pulled firmly and I felt the leather strap tightening all of a sudden, choking me, as Cullen began thrusting hard upwards into me. With his other hand he pulled his own red material tight, cutting off the flow of oxygen.

Blurring and hazy, I could feel myself losing sense of reality as Cullen continued to thrust up into me, harder and harder, unrelenting and forceful, his thick member spreading and penetrating me as deeply as he could drive, rock hard and furious. A buzzing sensation grew in me, a deep satisfying tingling warmth starting in my belly and spreading through into the rest of my body. I could feel this electric sensation of pleasure filling my every raw nerve and I wanted more and more.

The build-up was intense and the lack of air was making it unbearable to endure, such was the exhilaration of the moment. Cullen was crying out in moans of unrelenting pleasure as he continued to assault my depths, both of us bright red in the face and transcending into another state of blissful consciousness. His grip was tight on both ends he held, his left hand pulling the red cloth tight and his right pulling the belt on my neck, the ecstasy filling us until a final sharp thrust sent us both over the edge.

Cullen and I screamed out in release without any inhibition, echoing loud in my chambers. The Commander let out curdled sob as he released himself deep into my belly.

The Commander released his grip on us both immediately, and we gasped for air, our chests rising and falling rapidly as he still remained deep in me. His brow covered in sweat, he cupped my face in his broad hands, bringing his lips onto mine and kissing me over and over again.

'Thank you,' he murmured 'that was the furthest I have ever flown.'

His hands were trembling as I placed my hands on his cheeks, continuing to kiss him deeper and deeper.

'That was….'. I shivered, knowing no words would come close to giving it's due.

'….fucking euphoric.' replied Cullen, with a grin 'I know.'

Cullen eased me off him, and into a warm embrace as we came back down to reality. It was there that we lay together until day break, finally enduring a night away from our darkest thoughts and instead, entwined in each other's arms, finally at peace.


	2. Ruins of Chaos

**Chapter Two: Ruins of Chaos**

  


The turn of the season came fast upon us at Skyhold, and all through the summer we enjoyed the endless days of blue skies and warmer nights with an almost childish delight, our troubles dissipating in the warmth of the season by the bright sun above and the soft soil beneath our feet. Shoots of grass sprung from the frozen grounds and there was life in places that there had never been before. The realm was changing before our very eyes and anything seemed possible under that blanket of hazy hope that shrouded our shoulders. However as autumn fell upon us, we could all feel the echo of summer calling out to us one last time as it was slowly drowned by the arrival of an unwelcomed intruder that was winter. Before we knew it, we were wrapped in furs and our breath was icy upon the air once more. The blissful ignorance of our plight had been forgotten, and now we were being reminded once more that nothing ever ended, and although we longed for stagnation, it only changed evermore…..

We found ourselves in Denerim that morning in early winter, to meet with a merchant, Farius Terryn. Terryn had sent word that he could provide the Inquisition with a collection of rare and highly valuable magical weapons fresh from a carrack that was coming to the docks from across the Amaranthine Ocean that day. It was questionable as to how the Ferelden merchant had managed to acquire such a valuable bounty, but we all knew we were in no position to question anything that might aid us in our plight.

Cullen and Leliana had joined the expedition, adding a brutally unforgiving and severe dimension to the journey. The pair held a similar disdain for pleasantries in general, keeping their focus on the road ahead with no time for small talk to ease the discomfort that silence often brings, leaving me to while away the hours in my head as the emptiness grew thick across the company of soldiers marching with us.

To be honest, I had wondered at times whether my previous interlude with Cullen had been a result of my wild and vivid imagination, especially now in the aftermath, such was the way he was acting towards me, and such was the oddity surrounding our unexpected, lustful session. There was not even the slightest acknowledgement of my person on Cullen’s behalf, apart from the expected civilities owed to each other as we travelled across Ferelden. A firm nod, a sharp order and a stiff jaw, these were the only offerings bestowed upon me, and it left me rather disillusioned even at the best of times.

Often I would cast my gaze across to the Commander on his steel plated steed and see him deep in thought, a frown covering his face and hardened lines heavy on his brow. He was troubled, that much he had already confessed and that much was clearly evident, but I wondered whether passing so close to the life he once had been a part of had caused him further pain at present. Surely this journey brought back too many memories he had wished to forget?

My nature was one that urged me to grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly, perhaps in the selfish desperation that my comfort would in turn be reciprocated. Perhaps that was a flaw of my own self, despite my belief in thinking I wanted to help the Commander, I in secret only wanted him to help me. Perhaps he already knew this much in his infinite wisdom, and merely knew how to act accordingly. With silence.

Arriving at the city a few hours after a red sun rose across the amber plains, we were all relieved for the break of ceaseless riding. I sighed heavily as I led my horse to the stables just outside of Denerim, handing the reins to the stable boy a little too eagerly, before following my escorts through the large wooden gates of the city. Denerim. The capital of Ferelden and birthplace of our holy Andraste. Many a legendary bard’s tale had been spun thanks to this city, and it was indeed humbling to grace such a mighty place. During the previous blight, Denerim had been almost destroyed, and even after all this time there was still evidence of the destruction it had left in its wake. The city had been rebuilt, but there still remained charred and blackened ash burnt deep on some of the stones, perhaps left as a reminder to those that nothing was safe from the evil that seeks to destroy us. In the end, no one was safe.

‘Inquisitor,’ called out the Commander from a way ahead, walking towards me with a focused pace ‘I have spoken to our soldiers and we have agreed to meet at The Gnawed Noble Tavern at midday to converse with our merchant trader, Farius Terryn. You are free to wander the city until then.’

‘Free?’ I replied with a smirk, hoping to produce one from the Commander. He, however, did not reciprocate.

‘Yes.’ Cullen replied directly ‘Although unless you have other business in the city before then, I would like your advice regarding some of the magical equipment we intend to purchase, before the merchant arrives. It shouldn’t take too long.’. Cullen drew his hand outwards, directing me towards a strip of shops in the alley nearest to us ‘If you please, Inquisitor.’

‘Of course.’ I replied darkly, hating the way Cullen insisted on only addressing me by my formal title rather than my name. Perhaps it was his intention, but it dehumanised my being into nothing more than a superficial role and I knew it was unworthy of him to do so while others made the effort to address me by my actual person.

Cullen nodded to the remaining men, directing some to the gate while others set off to their own devices, most likely to the loving arms of The Pearl. Turning back to me, Cullen proceeded to direct me through the tired and dusty laneways of Denerim, walking by my side in silence. After many narrow twists and turns, I realised we were completely away from the prying ears of any unwanted company, and I turned to my silent companion in somewhat of an act of desperation to appeal to his senses once and for all.

Suddenly aware of my presence, something I questioned whether he had been fully aware of before this moment, Cullen slowed his pace to a halt. We were in a part of the city that was quite abandoned, only for the loose crumbling rock foundations of abandoned buildings and the skeleton of wooden frames from buildings yet to be completed.

‘Interesting place to discuss business?’ I remarked dryly, throwing a sceptical glance around the ruins of the city ‘Unless you were hoping to be robbed before then? Then I’d say this was an excellent place.’

Cullen chuckled, a devious smirk growing on his lips as his hand suddenly grasped mine and pulled me aside, pushing me against a tired wooden beam close by, and pressing his armoured body firmly against mine.

‘No rogue would dare interrupt me now.’ he remarked lowly, almost growling, as his amber eyes drew into mine.

My breathing intensified as I felt the Commander move his hands to my shoulders, drawing his lips to my neck as his fingers lingered across my collarbone before exploring lower over my chest, fondling my breasts as he continued to pleasure me with his mouth.

‘This journey has given me no release,’ Cullen murmured ‘and I’ve been tortured from having to watch the back of you as you ride your damn horse for over a week now.’. He brought his lips to mine and roughly kissed me, biting firmly at my bottom lip before pulling away. ‘I need release.’

I raised an amused eyebrow ‘Here?’

‘Why not?’ Cullen growled, tightening his grasp around my waist so we were pressed tightly together ‘I’d fuck you in the middle of the merchant square at midday if I could, and take delight in seeing all the perverse eyes of the men and women watching me conquer you mercilessly until you were screaming out my name on your hands and knees, begging for more.’

I grinned back at his mischievous remark, a deviant smile reflecting on his own face that seemed entertained by the thought. Cullen’s loose sandy blonde hair fell across his brow as he held my gaze, almost as if he was challenging me to protest so he could chastise me. I often felt he took delight in trying to take me off guard. To shock me with his confessions. Little did he know I was beyond that. I loved the way his Templar nature came out when the Commander was aroused. Cullen was so stern and unforgiving, and it always tempted me to inflame him further, and the more he spoke of his depravity the more I found myself desiring to be part of it.

Cullen started to undo his cuirass, quickly unfastening the buckles on each side and pulling the steel over his head with his feathers and red fabric still attached. It was evident Cullen was not interested in preserving the attire his position demanded, throwing it down like a pile of old rags at his feet as he tugged the remaining loose cotton white shirt over his head. He revealed his smooth sun kissed abdomen, tight and firm, with broad shoulders and large, well defined arms that could easily overpower me whenever it took his fancy.

Running his hands across my belt, Cullen began to unbuckle the clasp with firm pulls and tugs, yanking me with it so I was pulled closer towards him. I wanted to make him furious at me, such was the way of my delight, so I pushed off him roughly in protest.

‘You’ve not said one word to me since you left me in my room weeks ago.’ I remarked angrily ‘I deserved a little more than that. And I don’t exist to entertain you when it suits.’

Cullen raised an amused eyebrow, obviously entertained by my heated observations. ‘What would you have wished me to say?’ he inquired politely, a smirk on his lips ‘Or perhaps do? Offer you a posy of flowers perhaps?’. With a final hard tug, he released my belt and hooked his fingers into my pants, pulling them slowly down to expose my flesh. ‘The only flower that concerns me is the one between your legs.’ he growled. Suddenly the Commander pushed me furiously against the beam behind me, running his hands through my hair as he embraced me furiously with his hot mouth, before grabbing my locks sharply with a clenched fist. ‘Or perhaps I should have been whispering sweet nothings to you since that day? Sonnets perhaps, of a Templar knight pure and true, determined to protect your honour...when all I really want to do is tarnish it with my darkest deeds. Drag you into my perversity. My thoughts are nothing but sweet, and I refuse to deceive you with anything but. I lie awake at night thinking of all the immoral acts I would like to indulge upon you, to sate my insatiable desire until I am weak and dripping, a shadow of my former self quenched of all his darkest fucking desires. Pleasant civilities do not enter into the realm I wish to enter with you.’

Rendered more than a little speechless at his brutal honesty, I let out a surprised gasp. I could feel how unforgiving his cock was right now, pressed hard up against me, even with all the trappings between us. Cullen was heated and aroused, as was I by his filthy confessions, his honesty making me quiver with delight, his broad chest stirring my temptation. My fingers edged towards the concealed bulge as Cullen kept himself pressed against me, and I could feel him grinning next to my ear as I desperately tried to release him in that moment.

‘Then what do you want from me?’ I whispered, finally managing to wrap my fingers around the soft warm skin of his hard member.

Cullen’s eyes shut and he released a moan as I stroked him with a firm hand, up and down his hot dick. He was incredibly hard, maybe from the many days of tension building up, or maybe that was a delightful regularity of Commander Cullen.

‘Right now, at this moment, I want to fuck you before we have to meet this fucking merchant.’ he groaned in reply, responding to my touch with enthusiasm. Opening his eyes once more, he threw me a grin, his mischievous hands having pulled my pants now over my hips, and down to the ground around my ankles. Kicking off my boots, and pants, I watched as Cullen released his member from amidst his own attire. The Commander was ready.

‘I never talk about my past to anyone, but there is something about you that makes me want to, for better or for worse.’ he muttered as he held his erection in one hand, while holding me close with the other ‘Before I was tainted with the cruel hand that fate bestowed upon me, I was but a naive Templar who had faith in my duty but also trusted the mages left in my charge. We were to keep a distance from the mages, in order to supervise them effectively. We could never be close. But I had faith in their purpose, and that they would arise to the same amount of integrity that the Templars upheld. That I upheld.’

Cullen rubbed his throbbing head across the pink of my folds before positioning to enter, slowly easing into me as he kept his eyes held fast on mine ‘And so the day came when they betrayed that faith I had. I saw so much evil in that tower, and I saw my fellow Templars slain like cattle before my very eyes. By the end I hated mages. I hated magic. What I endured was unspeakable. It was abhorrent. Now, however, there is something about mages that makes me so angry...and so fucking horny at the same time. Like a swirling pool of maddening lust that I cannot control. You do that to me.’

‘I am not like those mages.’ I responded breathlessly as I felt his generous length fill me to the hilt, the warmth of his breath on my shoulder as he supported my weight beneath me with his strong arms, easing out again to repeat what he had begun. My breath drew into shallow pants as Cullen starting to thrust up into me with long, rhythmic thrusts, slow at first but increasing in intensity as he spoke.

‘I know,’ he muttered ‘yet to me that circle represented what mages across Thedas are capable of and that is enough to secure my disdain. I was tortured in that circle. Perhaps you would say broken. The things they did to me, the things those abominations showed me.’. He thrust harder up into me and I cried out. It was forceful and the roughness was sending me over the edge. ‘I cannot be the man you want,’ he grunted as he continued to sate himself ‘or the one I was meant to be. I cannot bring you flowers and entertain you in idle pleasantries, taking pleasure in the flightless pursuits of a perfect courtship that can never be. I cannot be that person for you...or for me.’

Moaning against his continual wave of intrusions, I kissed the base of his neck as he continued to assault me. ‘Cullen,’ I murmured between forceful penetrations ‘I never asked you to be anything else than what you are.’

Cullen used his weight to hold me against the beam as he wrapped his hands around my throat, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, his fingers pressing firmly into my flesh and covering my skins in excited bumps ‘All I can do is fuck you with every part of my being, my soul, my mind. I give these to you freely, but I warn you, you will not like what you find there. My mind is a dark labyrinth of unfulfillment and disappointment that you will surely drown in.’

I could feel an uncontrollable urge to come as he held me tight, and Cullen knew it. He released me suddenly and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, resting my weight heavily on him as his held me up against him and furiously unleashed himself on me, fucking me harder and harder on every thrust with unforgiving diligence as I fell down on him again and again.

‘Dig your nails into me.’ he ordered sharply ‘Scratch and rip my flesh. Do it!!!’. There was an almost desperation in his voice, as if Cullen needed the pain in order to feel his release. As if the two coincided with each other, and one could not be felt without the other.

Without hesitation, I dragged my nails heavily across the smooth, white skin of his muscular back. At first I only left a few white trails of scratch marks but as I continued the scratches cut deeper and deeper until I could feel myself tearing his flesh and Cullen started moaning uncontrollably. ‘More!’ he growled ‘Hurt me, damn you, tear me to fucking shreds!’

Dark angels danced around us, of that I am certain, their black wings flapping as we rose on the wave of delight, taking us higher and higher into a realm of forbidden desire. I knew I was a part of something much bigger than just being fucked by Commander Cullen. He was opening himself to me, perhaps the first person he had ever done so with, and his was a mind of riddles and mazes, threatening to consume my own mind perhaps as I tried desperately to understand him. There was something about Cullen and his darkness that fascinated me, drew me towards him and craved him even more. I could feel my soul weeping for his, as if it felt what he felt when he revealed himself from behind that black curtain of his past. His shadows were my companions and I knew even if I wanted to run away, his sad song would lull me back. I was under his spell.

His thrusts were sharp and unforgiving now, and it was rough and ecstatic as I mercilessly ripped and scratched the skin on his back with my nails as he held me up, the smell of blood and sex in the air as he fucked me harder and harder until we both screamed out in total uninhibited….release. Cullen shuddered, filling me deeply with his splendour, the sweat on his brow touching my lips, salty and pure as the release we had both just experienced.

Cullen held me against the wall, still deep inside me, as he drew his lips to mine and kissed me between breathless pants. Perhaps in that brief moment, there was a short time where the Commander was at peace. His touch was softer, almost tender, as his soft lips lapped over mine gently before pulling away.

‘Thank you.’ he muttered withdrawing from me, and I felt alone, an emptiness that wasn’t a result of physical means. Cullen turned to retrieve his breastplate, revealing the many scratches and smeared blood from the fresh cuts left on his back.

‘You’re bleeding’ I remarked in concern, feeling guilty for being the one who had injured the Commander. An addition of injuries to the already long list.

With a smirk, Cullen drew his eyes back towards mine, pulling the loose cotton shirt over his head. ‘Like I said, thank you. I used to cut myself, after what happened at the Circle Tower. In Kirkwall in the privacy of my chambers, I would delight in running a blade over my skin on different parts of my body and every time it felt so...good. Every time that heavy pain in my gut started, when the memories came to haunt me, the physical pain of piercing my flesh would ease me. Your nails felt wonderful.’

I hesitantly moved closer to him, grabbing his hand as a cold breeze scattered loose leaves in the isolated corner we had come to pass in. ‘I don’t want to cause you further pain.’ I appealed.

‘You’re not,’ Cullen replied shortly, a faint smile following ‘in fact it is quite the opposite..’. Cupping my face, his amber warmth held my gaze ‘You could never hurt me, but I could hurt you. I warn you against getting close to me.’

‘The sun may warn the shadows to stay away, but we all know it is the light that allows the darkness to prevail as much as the darkness allows the light.’ I replied with a shrug.

‘Perhaps, but you are no shadow.’ replied the Commander bluntly.

‘We are all shadows.’ I muttered ‘You are not the only one that has lost faith in this life.’

Pulling away, he continued to dress himself in silence until he was once again a pristine image of a Commander of the Inquisition.

‘We meet at _The Gnawed Noble_ at midday. Until then Inquisitor.’

‘Until then Commander.’ I replied dryly, if not accusingly, berating him for using my title so formally at such an informal moment. To turn on such titles after such intimacy boiled my blood, and left me feeling even more alone than when I started. His emotional detachment was like a blade against my own skin, although I felt no pleasure in it.

Cullen chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully as he acknowledged his cold manner, and flashed me wink before turning away once more.

Turning away, I was once again alone. Drawing a deep breath, I sighed heavily as I dressed myself. Perhaps Cullen was right, perhaps he would only hurt me in the end. So why was I so drawn to him? Why did his suffering make me want to care about him more? Every time he opened up himself to me, he showed me parts of him that were terrible, indeed flawed. So why did I find them curiously beautiful? Why was I so attracted to his darkness, and the shadowy deeds he was capable of? Why was that what appealed to me the most, that of which Cullen feared would destroy me in the end?

There was such a sadness in the Commander’s eyes, as if once he had beheld all the beauty in the world only for it to have been ripped from him, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to behold except the emptiness of his soul staring back at him, a shallow vessel of grief and despair. Hallow and discarded, a steady stream of sadness that had taught him to be a wiser person, even perhaps a better person, compared to those who rely on affirming their existence on the approval of others, and cast a blind eye on the suffering of the world for they have never been a part of it, only to pass it every now and then with a bat of an distracted eyelid. Cullen had found himself in the spiralling depths of torment and pain and somehow had managed to survive it. He had survived and he had returned a changed man, a beautiful mirror that was now shattered into a thousand shards, although still intact it was a piece riddled with flaws.

I couldn’t fix him, but even if I could I never would.


	3. Shadows of the Past

**Chapter Three: Shadows of the Pas**t

‘This is a shield.’ yelled Cullen ‘It’s not for decoration, it’s not for balancing your sword’s weight. It’s not for eating your dinner off at night in the barracks when you’re in need of a table and there’s none to be had.’. Murmured chuckles sounded around the yard before growing quiet once more as the Commander continued ‘It can however defend you, and it can be used to attack your enemies. If you have a shield in your hand, _use it._’

The new recruits were gathered around Commander Cullen in the courtyard of Skyhold that midday, the warm sun beating upon their fresh steel as they listened attentively. Like fresh ducklings in the wild, they stood together wide eyed, uncertain yet curious, and somewhat alert as the Commander addressed them. They varied from bright youths barely reaching fifteen to those late in their years and well rough around the edges. It mattered not however, for the Inquisition did not discriminate when it came to fighting their cause.

Armed and ready, Cullen pointed his sword towards a black haired man in his early twenties that stood at the front of the group. ‘You there, what is your name?’

‘Kieran, sir.’ mumbled the man.

Cullen nodded ‘Well, Kieran, come at me.’

Nervously, the young man cast his black eyes around the crowd, hoping to disappear amongst his fellow recruits rather than being singled out.

‘Come on man!’ yelled Cullen ‘Do you think the enemy is going to leave you alone in the heat of battle? You’ll be faced with one, if not five or more enemies coming at you at once, ready to spill your blood as best as they can. Now come at me.’

Cullen’s last words were stern and low, with a tone that could not be interpreted as anything but an immediate threat. Standing tall in the middle of the sparring circle, the ex-templar’s feet were firmly planted in the ground, sword and shield ready, as if he had done this a million times before and probably had.

Raising his right arm that was holding his blade, the young man lunged towards the Commander. Kieran swung his sword diagonally across at Cullen, who effortlessly took a step back to avoid it, leaving the recruit to fall forward, his blade hitting the dusty ground with an unceremonious clang. With one short, sharp shove, Cullen rammed Kieran with his shield, and the young man fell backwards onto the ground with an oomph. A few men and women chuckled in the crowd before silencing quickly as the Commander threw his eyes dangerously across the group.

‘Do you think this is a joke?!’ he roared ‘If this seems funny, I can imagine how hilarious it will be to see you all run through by an enemy blade on our next mission.’. The courtyard went deadly silent, not even the pigeons that resided in the wooden rafters of The Herald’s Rest dared coo when the Commander was in such a mood. ‘To those of you who are actually interested in learning how to fucking fight, did you see how I used my shield as a weapon to destabilise him? I used it on the offence. I used it as a weapon, with more force to push my enemy off his feet than a sword ever could. When you’re fighting the enemy remember to use what you have in your hands to the best of it’s abilities.’

The Commander stood over Keiran and extended his metal gauntleted hand, helping the recruit up off the ground. It was clear that Kieran was struggling under the weight of his metal cuirass to gain his foothold.

‘It’s hard to move in this armour.’ winced Kieran achingly as he rejoined his fellow recruits. A few nodded in agreement, and there was more than half a dozen shifting uncomfortably in their steel dressings even as they stood idle.

‘We could train better without it.’ observed one of the younger recruits, producing a few ayes in the crowd.

Cullen nodded briefly and raised his eyebrows as if pondering the thought. ‘Yes, you’re probably right. You could swing a sword better without the cuirass, and you could move easier without the pauldrons.’. Walking slowly and sagely, like a man who had seen more in one lifetime than a dozen soldiers ever would, Cullen threw his eyes sternly across the recruits. ‘Has anyone heard of The Great Serf Rebellion of Bastion?’ he asked, looking around at a sea of blank faces ‘No I thought as much.’

Throwing his shield to the ground, Cullen rested against the stone wall of the foundations behind him. The sweat from his brow glistening in the midday sun. ‘Bastion, for those of you who do not know, is a large city in the south of Antiva, well known for it’s feudalistic tendencies, and the subsequent peasants obligation of serfdom under that regime. The land is controlled by a handful of extremely powerful merchant families, I believe the lords of the land are referred to as Merchant Princes over there. Fifty years ago there was one group of serfs that worked over a rather extensive part of Bastion under the servitude of Lord Sarzurious, a man who owned many of the lucrative mines and vineyards in south Bastion. Forced to work for the Merchant Prince, the Bastion serfs under the regime of Lord Sarzurious were offered little in return that amounted to adequate protection or food. In fact, Lord Sarzurious treated his serfs worse than slaves for the most part. As you can imagine, over the years the serfs became somewhat...disgruntled in their predicament and decided to overthrow their tyrannous master. Now Lord Bravadius, another Bastion landowner in the region, desired such a rebellion. He knew that it would open up an opportunity to take over the lucrative estate of Lord Sazarious, something that would otherwise never fall into the hands of Lord Bravadius.’

Cullen held up his longsword to the recruits, the silver steel’s reflection from the sun blinding their eyes ‘In secret, Lord Bravadius funded the serfs in their planned rebellion, providing them with exceptional quality Antivan steel weapons and armour. For a year the serfs trained to fight in secret, practicing with sword and dagger, bow and axe, until the day arrived that they decided to strike. Lord Sazarious naturally had soldiers protecting him, however they were half the number of the serfs that approached the gates of his manor in the early hours of morning on that fateful day. Each and every serf was donned in the finest steel plate armour, and each held an exquisite weapon in their hands. The outcome of the day was assumed obvious and victorious in its result. However...’. Cullen turned his sharp gaze upon the crowd ‘..they were all misled in their assumptions. As the battle began, the serfs struggled and stumbled to fight as they were met with the soldiers and knights of Lord Sazarious. For all the weapon training they had performed in secret, not one of the serfs had practiced wearing their armour. Not one. The weight of the steel exhausted them, drained them of their stamina. They couldn’t yield their weapons, and they couldn’t move with agility. Although not outnumbered, the serfs were struck down that day effortlessly. Each and every one slaughtered at the entrance of their master’s estate.’

A heavy blanket of silent unease fell across the courtyard. Satisfied by the response, Cullen nodded before continuing ‘This is why we train in our armour. This is why when you are not training, you will continue to wear your armour throughout the day, right up until you retire for the night. These heavy, uncomfortable steel trappings are now your second skin, and if I see anyone not wearing them in their entirety there will be repercussions. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes Commander.’ replied the group of recruits.

‘Good.’ remarked Cullen ‘For the rest of the afternoon I want to see you in groups of five, using your shield for attack and defence. We will not stop until the sun goes down. Proceed.’

The recruits hastily joined off in groups, eager to placate their Commander. Everyone knew Cullen Rutherford was an exceptionally talented warrior, however he lacked the bedside manner that others may have bestowed when teaching. To the Commander the only thing that mattered was results. He would push every recruit under his command to their limits, and refused to coddle and comfort in between. Perhaps he would get little thanks for it in the short run, but Cullen knew in the middle of a fight his recruits would be eternally grateful for his method of teaching. When they returned alive and breathing, they would be thankful. 

Running his stern gaze over the group, Cullen could see Leliana approaching in the distance, descending the stairs from the Great Hall with a light swiftness in her step. Silently she approached the sparring circle and sidled up to the Commander with a raised eyebrow, looking towards the soldiers fumbling about with their shields.

‘Give them time, they will come good.’ muttered the Commander.

‘Time is something we may not have.’ observed the spymaster with a hint of doubt. Leliana looked tired, her ginger hair lay scattered across her face limply, and dark skin bulged under her eyes. It was apparent she had enjoyed little sleep or respite for many days. ‘I have had word that Samson was spotted near the Emerald Greaves but a week ago. One of my spies was taken by his Red Templars. I'll be heading out tomorrow at dawn to track them.’

‘Use your fucking shield, Flinders!’ Cullen roared towards an older recruit in the corner of courtyard. With a heavy sigh, he turned back to Leliana. ‘They will be ready, even if they do this all night.’

A curl grew on Leliana’s lip as she observed the agitation of the Commander. She knew Cullen too well to believe shields were the real reason of his displeasure on this particular afternoon. ‘I assume Cassandra mentioned I will be taking the Inquisitor with me?’ she added.

‘Of course.’ muttered Cullen, turning his back to observe his recruits. With his face concealed, Leliana could not see the shadow that fell across it at the mention of Trevelyan. ‘Hopefully you will be able to locate Samson, as well as your agent. If that is all, I must return to my duties.’

With a swift nod, Leliana withdrew back to the steps, eager to ascend into her study at the top of the tower once more.

‘Leliana.’ called out Cullen

‘Commander?’

With dark amber eyes that glared into her green quite sternly, he stopped for a moment. ‘Keep her safe.’ he said in a softer voice, before turning with a sharp step towards his recruits once more.

The spymaster watched Cullen curiously as he returned to his recruits, already barking orders at several. With a small smirk she departed the courtyard to prepare for the next day’s journey. There was much to be done and little time to ponder anything in between, however much she may have wanted to do otherwise.

****

Stumbling through the green forest of the Emerald Greaves, a peace had fallen upon us that dreamy afternoon as we drifted through the broken sunlight filtering through the leafy branches above. Holding my hands above me, outstretched into the endlessness, the warmth peppered across my fingers, begging me to dance with it like a long lost lover, revelling in our reunion after such a very long, long time. Such euphoria at such a simple moment, I dared not close my eyes for I knew what would come to pass. What often crossed my mind in the silence of a rare moment to myself. Cullen.

While the others drew up their cloaks tight to their necks and blew warmth into their fingers, I was oblivious to the unforgiving chill in the afternoon air. The pink flush on my cheeks had nothing to do with the threat of an impending winter frost on the air, nor was my lack of hunger a result of having had my fill of nourishment. As many a fool before me, I was stumbling along the path of my life with my eyes shut tight, humming the sweet tune of infatuation all the way along, unaware that the shadows loomed close by.

Not even Corypheus could dampen my spirits at present, and that was why I knew what I was feeling was dangerous. Unrealistic. Perhaps even delusional...but I did not care. None of this mattered anymore. All that I wanted, all that I truly craved for was the company of a man whose time was scarcely bestowed upon me. Unrequited. Unreturned. Unwanted. For every action of his that warranted serious question, I was eager to excuse it with the flippant excuse of fate. Of destiny, to which we fools are ever obliging to use to explain why two people meet. Time had chosen to bring Cullen and I together for a higher purpose, so who was I to question the troublesome facts?

Of course I knew I was being ludicrous. Cullen was nothing more than the keeper of my affections, a wonderful and most cruel master that dangled a small sceric of happiness before me before pulling it away from my grasping hands. I wasn’t even sure if he knew he was doing it half the time, so powerful was his hold over me that merely being in his presence filled me with strange comfort and delight. The more I feasted on that delirium, the more I wanted, and the more I needed it, until I was nothing more than a rabid beast in the wilds craving it’s next meal in uninhibited, wanton desire.

The pendulum of my psyche swung from bliss to despair many times in every breath I took. I was losing control over my every part of being and the sad desperation of the Inquisition had sent me drowning into morbid reality. I was suffocating, if not dying already, and I was using Cullen as a rope to pull me out of it. I knew however that the temporary ignorant delight I experienced through him only led me further into the depths of that pool of ruin. When I finally opened my eyes, when I tried to draw my one last breath, I knew I would be long past saving myself and there would be nothing to be done about it.

The sound of a second horse approached from behind me, it’s hooves softly treading through the long wet grass of the damp forest floor. Looking across to my side I was greeted by Cole, serenely looking about the forest as he rode beside me, the brim of his hat hanging low across his face. ‘Falling, falling. Ever falling.’ he whispered in a sing-song manner ‘The water is rising above your head and you are sinking into the depths. Flaying arms and short breaths, you are losing control and you wonder what to do. But what can you do? To love is to feel pain, and no one loves pain. He does though. He loves it, and he knows he will cause it. He wants to cause it.’

A heavy sigh released from my lips as I looked away from the rogue. I didn’t need this, not now. I knew Cole was reading my thoughts. I knew he had read Cullen’s. However I did not want to know. Not like this.

‘The pain is so strong,’ continued Cole placidly ‘seering like white heat, and there is no escape. I try to take it away from him but it is sewn into his flesh and blood, flowing through his veins, running deeper to his core. It is bound to him and I cannot take it away lest I destroy him, for now the darkness and him are one and the same. They cannot be parted, they cannot be torn apart.’. Cole sighed sadly, his shoulders hunched over as if he could feel the very pain himself and could not bare it.

Casting a frown to my companion, I pulled my reins to slow my horse to a halt. ‘Do you have something to say?’ I asked sharply.

‘Bad things, terrible things happen to people and there is no way to remove them from the past they have endured. It becomes apart of them, and they change. They are transformed, liked a caterpillar into a moth, and even though the nightmares have changed them, they are no less beautiful than the butterflies of the world. Dark winged creatures of despair, so perfect. So...perfect. It has changed him and shaped him into the man that he is now. If I took those memories away he would be a different person. Cullen would cease to be.’

‘No one is asking you to fix Cullen.’ I snapped.

‘Yes, you do.’ replied Cole sadly ‘You want to take away his pain all the time. That is why you need to understand. That is what I am trying to make you understand.’. His eyes lifted from under the wide brimmed hat, and drew patiently into mine ‘He likes you but fears to love. If he opens himself to you, you will see...you will see.. and he knows you will not want to see.’

Digging my heels into the side of my horse, I quickened the pace and left Cole behind. Perhaps what he said was true, but I didn’t want to hear it.

As the sun fell behind the trees and darkness began to engulf the forest, we set up camp, Vivienne, Varric, Cole, Leliana and I. A small grove of trees provided us with some concealment, and a small fire burned brightly, a warmth that was eagerly welcomed. One of the Inquisition’s agents had gone missing, and it was imperative that we find them. We had been wandering through the forest for less than a day, searching for any signs that the Red Templars had ventured this way, although to our dismay and possible relief we had found nothing except the deep serenity of the forest.

Shaking my head, I threw some twisted up leaves I had been diligently tearing away at into the depths of the camp fire. Ever since I had spoken to Cole, I had been thrown into a most foul mood. My bubble of my infatuation, idealising the misconstrued actions of Cullen, had been burst by the observant spirit that took pleasure in analysing the minds of others. Cole was trying to help, of that I was certain, however like many with such good intentions the result often rendered quite the opposite.

I spent the better half of the night meditating on idle thoughts, trying to distract myself from what I craved to think about, until all my companions had retired to bed and I was left alone with my mind to haunt me once more. Leliana was also awake, however she too seemed plagued by her own demons that night, quietly observing the silence with welcomed reverence. She lent her ginger head against the log behind her, and was looking up to the stars, as if searching for an answer from the Maker above.

‘The stars are so beautiful in a clear night sky,’ she obsereved quietly ‘I almost forget how much so when I spend too long at Skyhold, locked away in my study.’

‘Yes,’ I murmured ‘out here it almost feels how life should be.’

‘Life is never how it should be.’ replied Leliana bitterly.

I turned my eyes to the spymaster, half interested in that remark, half concerned. I was under no pretences at how important Leliana was to the success of the Inquisition. If she was losing faith, then we were all doomed.

Leliana’s eyes were wide and looking deep into the night, as if only slightly aware of my presence and her observations were rather directed to herself.

‘I spent many nights like this in Ferelden,’ whispered the spymaster ‘especially after I left Lothering. I would sit and tell so many stories to my companions on a nightly basis, like a naive little child, unaware of what foul events would come my way as the days progressed. How I long for that innocence again, in our blissful unawareness of the impending terrors fate bestows upon us all, perhaps it is only there where we can truly be happy?’

‘Cassandra mentioned that you travelled with the Hero of Ferelden?’ I remarked, interested in holding a conversation that could distract my spiralling thoughts.

‘Hero.’ scoffed Leliana bitterly ‘Hardly. She killed an arch demon but does that act alone make you a hero? No. Heroes are just people, and people can do terrible things. I believe a hero must be selfless in their sacrifice. She is self serving until the end.’

Raising my brows, I shifted my body to face Leliana. ‘What did the Hero of Ferelden do to warrant that assessment?’ I asked curiously, if not a little surprised.

A tired sigh departed Leliana’s lips, her eyes glassy at the memories filling her already consumed mind. ‘There were many things that Sierra Amell did, where does one begin? Ah that’s right.’ chuckled the bard bitterly ‘She murdered me.’

‘What?!!’ I blurted out.

A hardened expression grew on Leliana’s face. ‘Yes.’ she replied sharply ‘At the temple of Sacred Ashes. Sierra intended to taint the ashes of our holy Andraste for the sake of a ridiculous cult, The Disciples of Andraste. They worshipped a high dragon which they believed was the reincarnation of Andraste herself. What fools. We all knew they were delusional and dangerous, but the hero knew she could use this to her advantage. The leader of the cult, Kolgrim, asked her to pour a vial of the dragon’s blood onto the ashes of Andraste. Sierra agreed to to it.'

‘Why would anyone do such a thing?’ I asked in horror.

‘Why indeed.’ muttered Leliana ‘To defile something so pure...’. The spymaster sighed heavily, finally turning her gaze away from the heavens and towards me ‘In return for such an act, Kolgrim offered her a rather large amount of coin, and membership into the cult. She was only after allies, and a way around the dragon she did not fancy to fight. Sierra did not care what else came of it. For that is the way of the hero, the end always justified the means, even before there was an end to pursue.’

I shook my head in disbelief ‘But, why turn on you? One of her very own companions?’

‘After she tainted the blood, I was angry.’ explained Leliana ‘You cannot imagine how angry I was. You cannot imagine the frustration I felt in that moment, after everything that we had gone through to find that forgotten place that had been hidden for so long. Such a holy place where just being there sent shivers across your skin. And then to witness Sierra so willingly corrupt the remains of our holy mother in such a way without a moment’s thought or hesitation. Sierra was not one of the faithful, but there were others that did believe, many, many others whose faith guided them. People like me. The ashes would have served as hope for all these people, no? It would have given them so much faith in a realm filled with so much despair. I knew that anyone who tried to destroy that was wrong. I challenged Sierra and she became angry, nay furious, at my refusal to accept her decision. I could not back down and neither could she, so we fought each other. She ran me through in that chamber. The light left my eyes and I was dead, for that I am certain, but then I woke up again in the cold moutain side of the temple many days later without a scratch on my skin. I had been brought back for a purpose. The Maker had saved me.’

‘That is….remarkable.’ I exclaimed, somewhat uncertain whether to believe it or not ‘Although I am sorry for what you went through. Such betrayal.’. I paused, noticing that the sad look that Leliana held had now amplified in her confession to me ‘I always heard the inflated stories of the hero of Ferelden and Alistair the Grey Warden. The tales are usually of the lovers more than the details of the Blight. I guess everyone loves a good tale of true love rather than be concerned with the actual facts?’

Leliana scoffed even more bitterly ‘Don’t mention that to Cullen.’

My heart leapt more than a little at the mention of the Commander’s name in such an unexpected context. ‘Why-why would I...’ I stammered, but Leliana cut me off.

‘You fancy each other, I know.’ she stated bluntly. I began to protest but she drew her eyes sternly into mine. ‘I know.’

‘Okay,’ I replied, growing red in the face and thankful that the shadows of the night concealed it ‘but why would Cullen care about the stories of the Hero of Ferelden?’

‘Because he was in love with her at the circle tower.’ replied Leliana flatly ‘His first true love.’. Leliana paused, looking slightly surprised as her lip curled. ‘He never mentioned her?’

‘No’ I replied darkly ‘I don’t suppose he did.’. Not that Cullen and I had spoken much in general, but I wondered if this was the reason behind his distance towards me?

Leliana shrugged ‘I’m sure he had his reasons. Not that he feels fondly about her now I imagine, I wouldn’t worry about that. Sierra left him at the tower to be conscripted as a Grey Warden, only to return to the tower when it was under seige...with her new lover, Alistair, by her side. All the time we travelled together Sierra never mentioned one word about Cullen, not even to Alistair I suspect, that poor doting fool. Even when we found Cullen in the tower, she pretended they were little more than general acquaintances. Sierra is devious and manipulative in that way.’

‘You knew Cullen from the Kinloch Hold?’ I asked in surprise.

‘Of course,’ replied Leliana with a smile ‘I helped contain the tower during the seige, that was when we came across Cullen.’. Leliana sighed ‘That poor man. We all thought he had lost his mind. He was begging us to kill him there and then before he realised we were not abominations. Ah, but Cullen is a strong man. When everyone around him broke he stayed strong until the end. That is the way of the Commander.’

‘That’s horrible.’ I murmured ‘After all Cullen endured in that tower, to have to face Sierra’s betrayal of their love in tow.’

‘Love often is horrible,’ muttered Leliana ‘and makes a mockery of us all.’

‘There is nothing going on between Cullen and I,’ I added guiltily ‘you read too much into it if you think otherwise.’

Leliana let out a high pitched laugh, almost a giggle, light hearted and free ‘Oh please Inquisitor, you may try to conceal your feelings and I applaud you for trying, but the Commander has already exposed his hand long ago. His eyes, you see, betray him every moment you approach, it is but a small but rather obvious tell tale, and you needn’t be an assassin to know that, I assure you.’

‘If you say so….’ I replied more than a little in doubt. Perhaps his eyes took interest, but I questioned whether his heart followed suit.

‘The Commander has had an unforgiving life,’ muttered Leliana ‘but he is in a better place now. Old wounds may never fully heal, but he is for the first time in control of his life. He serves the Inquisition and the Inquisition serves him well. I would not lose all hope for the Commander just yet. I have known Cullen for quite a while, and he is one of the most strongest and selfless people I know. He is a good man who has experienced terrible things, that is all.’

The soft call of the night birds was the only reply left to be said. Leliana and Cole may have known more about the Commander than I, but it gave me little comfort in the end. I had no control over my heart, and it had already made it’s own opinion of the Commander of the Inquisition.


	4. Confessions

**Chapter Four: Confessions**

  


The weeks passed by and we endured it, unable to track any sign of the Red Templars or Samson until we begrudgingly accepted that they were long gone and our efforts had been in vain. We all felt we had failed our missing agent, especially Leliana, and her deathly quietness made us wish the journey back home would go fast. The atmosphere was heavy as we rode back to Skyhold, with Varric’s light hearted banter not even able to lift our spirits. With frost bitten fingertips clutching at the reins, the Keep came to greet us on the horizon. We were home.

Riding along the drawbridge into the courtyard, the stronghold was busy in the late afternoon. Master Dennet was yelling orders at the stable boys, and the sweet smell of hay lingered in the air while the whinny of horses sounded every now and then. The new recruits hastily gathered around to see our arriving party, hopeful to witness some terrible enemy we may have happened across and decided to bring back to the keep.

Unsaddling in haste, we all departed our separate ways, eager to find some isolation after so long travelling together. Leliana and Vivienne scurried off to the warmth of the Great Hall, while Varric murmured something about the Herald’s Rest under his breath before heading off. Cole, as usual, had simply…..disappeared.

Wearily I started to climb the side stairs leading up to Skyhold’s kitchens when I suddenly stopped. Even now I’m not sure what brought the sudden change of heart. Perhaps it was the familiar smell of ram stew from the kitchens, or the usual sound of the smithy in the distance, the repetitive dull striking of the hammer against the anvil, over and over again. Perhaps it was nothing at all, but in that moment I knew that all the comforts of home, all the familiarities that once existed were now nothing more than strange sounds and odours to me. I couldn’t be here.

With a turn and a dash, I hurriedly made my way for the gate of the stronghold and didn’t stop until I had cleared the bridge. A few guards looked on in confusion, calling out my title uncertainly as I rushed by, but I did not care to stop or reply. It wasn’t my name and I didn’t want that responsibility anymore. It didn’t matter where I was going, as long as it was away from Skyhold.

My boots trudged heavily against the gravel and ice on the road before me as I set out for my new course. After enjoying a few minutes of silence the heavy thud of two horses came riding up behind me, and stopped at my side.

‘Inquisitor.’ spoke one of the guards ‘We have orders not to let you wander outside Skyhold unattended.’

With a flash of furious eyes, I pointed an accusing finger at the man, my hand glowing green so as to cause unease. ‘Leave me be.’ I hissed breathlessly, hastening my step and leaving the befuddled men behind once more.

Stumbling along the rocky path as it zigged and zagged around the towering terrain of the Frostback Mountains, I barely noticed the sun as it began to sink behind the mountains. I pressed on knowing the further I walked the further away I would be from my prison keep. The sharp jagged rocks cut into the soft soles of my shoes every now and then, as if reminding me I was wandering aimlessly on an ever dangerous path. Amber waves of deep orange spilled into blood red across the heavens as the afternoon transformed into evening, and I stopped finally to take in the last moments of it’s magnificence. Leliana was right, we had forgotten the beauty of the world amongst our despair. The simplicity of the stars and the wondrous nature of the evergreen forests. All were forgotten, including ourselves. Who were we now? What did we stand for? To fight, to serve, to protect. We would bathe in the blood of our enemies and be reborn into something we never were meant to be.

Behind me the loud gallop of hoofs approached, set at a determined pace. I refused to turn, I did not care whether it be friend or foe.

‘Inquisitor.’ called out a sharp, low voice that I instantly recognised. It was that of Cullen, an ever so faint hint of question in his voice as if uncertain of my present state of mind.

‘Commander.’ I replied dryly, refusing to hold his gaze. Of course we were using titles amongst each other. ‘Go away.’ I added. I knew it was harsh of me to speak so but I wasn’t concerned. When everything was crumbling around me, what did I care about civilities?

Cullen proceeded at a trot beside me as I walked faster. ‘You’ll be walking a while,’ he remarked in a calm, matter of fact manner ‘there is no respite out here for another five miles or so. Unless you are heading to Skyhold? In that case, you are walking the wrong way.’

Cullen held an amused smile on his chiselled jaw as I kept my gaze forward on the road, not wanting to engage, although I could see him clearly in my periphery. The Commander was looking splendid in his full armour upon his shiny, black steed, that ever present smirk on his scarred lip present even now.

‘Enough of this nonsense, come, let me take you back.’ he replied firmly, holding down his hand towards me.

Moving my shoulder away from his reaching grasp, I spun around wildly. ‘I’ve had enough of Skyhold, and you for that matter. I foolishly thought my life at the circle was pitiable in comparison to the lives of other free men and women out here in the realm. What a fool I was. Now I know what was awaiting for me out there-’ I waved my hand carelessly around me ‘I would have been better locked up in the circle for the rest of my days. I can’t do this anymore. You can find another puppet to pull the strings to.’

The Commander pulled his reins tight, perhaps in suppressed anger, although he refused to reveal it anymore than that. ‘Five miles it is’ muttered Cullen ‘Although let me ride you there at least. You are free to do what you will, but you will freeze on the roads tonight before you even reach your destination, of that I am certain.’

Cullen dismounted heavily off his steed, the sound of his metal armour rustling and the crunch of the gravel trudging under his feet. Moving towards me, he gently grabbed my arm as I tried to walk on. ‘Trevelyan,’ he murmured in a softer tone ‘please.’

Trevelyan. My name. There was a tenderness in his voice that I had only had a mere taste of back in the ruins of Denerim. I was vulnerable to it and it made me stop dead in my tracks. With a strong grip, Cullen refused to release my arm as the metal gauntlet pressed into the soft cloth of my forearm. It was firm yet gentle all at the same time, and I wasn’t mentally strong enough to break from it. With a slight nod, I allowed Cullen to lead me back to his steed, and we mounted and continued on into the night.

There were a thousand things to say and yet neither of us uttered a word, although I could sense the frustration Cullen must have been experiencing, brimming with questions, however he was not a man to fill the empty void of silence with idle gossip and stories along the way. The stillness of the night was what I wanted in that moment and he respected it.

Plumes of frosty breath escaped our mouths as we rode on, the night being clear and bitterly cold, although it made the journey easier to navigate with the glowing crescent moon bright overhead. In a more agreeable circumstances, the ride might have been looked upon as almost favourable, as we lay our eyes on the shimmering rock and ice under the moonlight, the stars of the Frostback Mountains. My hands held fast against the lower waist of the Commander, at the edge of his metal cuirass, and I could feel his breath draw deeper whenever I adjusted my fingers to balance my position. There was a soft, almost sweet, scent coming from his waves of sandy hair and soon I found myself breathing deeper and closer to his neck than I probably should have, the feathers from his gorget tickling my nose and cheeks.

My eyes drew heavier and heavier as the Commander rode on, and I was lulled into that blissful state somewhere between the realm of dreams and reality, until finally we approached the small lights of a roadside tavern, tucked away cozily on the side of the seemingly endless, winding mountain path. A tired wooden sign swung in front; Ortik’s Tavern. Whoever Ortik was, I was glad he decided to make the tavern here and no further up the road.

Exhausted and weary, I dismounted at the entrance before Cullen did the same, handing his horse to the stable boy before leading me into the brightly lit room of the foyer of the tavern. The smell of yeasty warm bread and heady ale overwhelmed my senses, and we were greeted by a brightly lit room leading onto a larger area full of roaring fires and two dozen or so merry patrons busily chatting away the plights of their day in festive respite. Cullen left me at the door while he walked over to the innkeep standing by the well worn oak bar, a tall and burly looking man that I supposed could have been Ortik himself, and could well have been a warrior in his younger days. The pair talked quietly amongst themselves for a while, before Cullen finally returned to the foyer.

‘Come.’ he muttered darkly, brushing roughly past me and leading me to the stairs at the side of the room, ascending them heavily. Uncertain whether the order was that of Cullen or the Commander, I followed on hesitantly until we reached the top of the stairs, following down the dimly lit hall until Cullen stopped at a door and opened it with the key in his hand.

‘I took the liberty of arranging lodgings.’ he murmured, allowing me to enter but standing fast at the door. I half expected, nay wanted, him to follow in after me, but the Commander remained unmoved.

‘What now?’ I asked, almost accusingly.

Cullen shrugged. ‘You have made your mind up it appears, I must wish you well on the rest of your life.’. He threw me a small smile at the end of his comment, as if even in all my seriousness he knew it was anything but. It was a typical manner Cullen used with me.

‘I’m sorry for...’ my eyes flickered away in embarrassment. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I’ll return to Skyhold tomorrow.’ I murmured, looking one last time in his amber eyes as he stood over me in close proximity.

The curl of his lip revealed his white scar in the soft light. ‘Good girl.’ he murmured, taking another step towards me and then further into the room. ‘Perhaps I can stay with you a while longer then?’

****

The night unfolded in unexpected splendour and delight, that of which we both could not have anticipated. A small four poster bed pushed up against the side wall, and a small wooden table with two chairs was all that adorned the modest accommodation. However it’s simplicity did not concern us for the company made up anything else that room may have otherwise been lacking. Taking our places at the table, we shared our first meal together. A modest spread of bread, warm meat, dried fruit and soft cheese. Between us stood two bottles of Vint-9 Rowan’s Rose, of which we were more than happy to entertain.

‘Now that you have me here, it brings me to mind of your true intentions.’ mused Cullen wickedly, swirling the crimson liquid imprisoned in a metal goblet in one hand while tearing off some sour dough with the other ‘I can only assume that was your cunning plan all along?’

‘Quite possibly.’ I grinned.

‘Well, lucky then that I didn’t send Harritt after you instead.’ chuckled Cullen, producing a laugh from both of us. His amber eyes drew into mine suddenly, like a warm flame. ‘Would you have really left?’ he asked seriously. There was a glimmer of michievity in his face, but also perhaps a small part of something else. Hurt? Disappointment? I couldn't’ tell, but he waited patiently to hear my reply.

‘I-’. My voice faltered, not knowing where to begin ‘The recent trip to the Emerald Greaves gave me a lot of time to think about things.’

‘Indeed?’ remarked Cullen ‘What things?’

With a large swig of the sweet liquid to my lips, my eyes scattered across the barren room trying to fixate on anything but the man before me. ‘You. Me. Everything.’ I begun ‘What we were before all of this, and what that makes us now.’

The ex templar eased back in his seat, a small smile permanently on his lips ‘Ah, now I am getting a better picture. You spent near a month with that gossiping bard. I don’t suppose Leliana had anything to do with these revelations? She and I go back quite a long way and I recall confiding in her, perhaps unwisely, about my former days on many occasion. Last time I confide in such loose lips. ’. Running his right hand across the table, he strummed his fingers lingering over my hand with a lower voice ‘Did she talk to you about my time in Kirkwall? Is this what has troubled you?’

‘Not Kirkwall,’ I replied, taking another hasty sip ‘it was about...the Hero of Ferelden.’

Cullen raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise ‘Sierra Amell?’. He shrugged as he leant heavily back into the wooden chair once more ‘I imagine Leliana had a lot to say about her.’

With focused aggression, I began tearing pieces of the bread on the table apart between my fingers as I watched him. So calm and collected in his indifference at someone he had held so dear. How could he act like that? I knew my anger towards the Hero of Ferelden was an unreasonable response to a person I had never met, and yet all I could think of was that Sierra Amell was the reason Cullen kept pulling away from me. She was the real reason.

As if sensing, if only a sceric, of my unworthy thoughts, Cullen poured himself another glass of wine contemplatively before he spoke. ‘I’m not sure how much you know, or how accurate Leliana’s account was.’ he muttered ‘From your reaction I can assume Leliana’s account of my past gave neither one of us any real justice.’

‘She told me enough.’ I replied hastily.

‘Apparently not.’ remarked Cullen shortly ‘Or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Amell was one of my charges at the Circle Tower before the Blight. I was not nineteen the first time I met her. We were both very young and naive, me a new templar in the Order and her a mage. We had no actual experience of the real dangers that magic presented. Naturally being a templar I wasn’t permitted to fraternize with the other mages, especially my charges.’. He drew his hand wearily through his locks as he continued ‘Naturally I ignored this, and we fell for each other, and got quite close. Shortly after her harrowing she foolishly tried to help one of her mage friends, a blood mage no less, in escaping the tower. At the time I was blinded by my feelings I admit, and thought she had just made an error in judgement. A Grey Warden by the name of Duncan came to the tower and conscripted Amell into the Wardens, and she happily left rather than face the repercussions of her actions.’

‘And you are still in love with her to this very day.’ I murmured half to myself, if not entirely, but loud enough to produce a scoff from the Commander’s lips. My eyes drew hastily to his, embarrassed by my comments.

‘Hardly.’ remarked Cullen firmly ‘I was fond of her, and perhaps believed myself to be in love while we were at the Tower. However after she left, she changed a great deal. She returned many months later to the tower to help with the siege.’. Cullen shook his head in disgust ‘She sided with the mages, saving as many of those corrupted monsters as she could. I dare say she would have spared Uldred if she could have. Even as she witnessed the terror those mages had unleashed on her home, she still defended each and every one of them to the very end. Leliana told me of what happened in the tower, and how Sierra allowed the mages she came across to escape. She even let a desire demon escape with a templar.’. A disgusted sigh escaped Cullen’s lips, as if even now he was still shocked by Amell’s actions.

‘Why would she do that?’

‘I have no idea.’ remarked Cullen in disgust ‘Leliana told me Sierra felt she was being kind to the templar. Apparently the demon had given the templar the illusion that he was living a happy life with a wife and family...the demon was his wife. Leliana urged Sierra to kill the demon before conversing with it, but she refused to listen and by the end allowed the demon and the possessed templar to escape.’

‘Utter madness.’ I scoffed.

The ex-templar rubbed his aching neck ‘I agree. After the siege was over, Sierra left shortly after with her new love, another Grey Warden by the name of Alistair.’. Cullen chuckled, adding ‘I assure you I was well over that short chapter of intrigue by that point. The cold hard slap of reality can knock the sense into anybody.’

With a frown I looked over to my companion. ‘I had no idea.’ I murmured.

The Commander tilted his head with a smirk ‘Is this what has been troubling you?.’. He held a grin now that would not be wiped despite my disapproving frown. The words of Leliana regarding Cullen had scarred my very soul for over a month and to now hear Cullen simply disregard it all in jest. I felt more than a little ashamed for my incorrect assumptions.

‘Leliana made me think Sierra-.’

‘Broke my heart?’ taunted Cullen ‘No, I fear that is the minstrel in Leliana coming out to cause mischief. Besides, I was somewhat distracted by what happened to my fellow templars at the tower to take anything else too personally. That, I confess, may have broken my heart.’. A silence came over us for a mere few seconds but it felt like an eternity, before Cullen looked up to me again. ‘When I saw what Sierra had become, when I saw what she was becoming, I knew it was not the person I had fallen for in the tower in former days. I assume Leliana mentioned how Sierra tried to murder her in the Temple of Sacred Ashes after tainting the ashes of Andraste with dragon’s blood?.’

‘Yes she did,’ I replied as if still in shock by the fact ‘I was mortified. No one mentions that in the stories.’

‘Of course not!’ chortled Cullen ‘I can’t imagine the truth is ever good for tale telling. No story will defend the actions of Loghain Mac Tir, no matter what the truth might actually reveal in itself. Nor do they mention that the Hero of Ferelden practiced blood magic while trying to defeat the darkspawn!.’. He sighed wearily, emptying his glass hastily ‘Sierra Amell has earned her title as the Hero of Ferelden, but heroes are not always pure of heart. Even if you put aside the fact that she tried to kill our master of spies, Sierra’s choices were something I could never accept. She was a blood mage. Her actions stemmed with an objective to serve herself. Leliana grew to know her quite well as they travelled together, and was kind enough to inform me of her true nature. I assure you, whatever I may have felt in my younger days, I have no feelings for our beloved Hero of Ferelden.’. He strummed his fingers on the table, amused at my silence ‘Dare I ask, is the Inquisitor...jealous?.’. Cullen grinned in wicked delight, running his fingers across the unshaven ruggedness of his chin as he observed me from across the table.

Rolling my eyes I poured another wine too hastily, spilling the contents onto the table in undignified slurps ‘I had simply thought she was your one true love.’

‘Do you always believe people are hopeless romantic vessels of unrequited love and torment? Or is that just reserved for me?’ Cullen asked with a chuckle.

I looked up at him in sudden anger ‘I was away for over a month, and every recruit was lined up to greet our return. Half of Skyhold perhaps! Where were you? Did I even cross your mind while I was away, risking my life and nearly losing it a dozen times over?’

In a series of unbecoming dramatic gestures, I stood up and paced over to the window, trying to distract myself with the dark view outside. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t love me, scream it at his face like a child throwing a tantrum, but something held me back. A final sceric of dignity perhaps…

‘That is a stupid question.’ growled Cullen ‘Do you equate me waiting eagerly at the gate, like some idiotic puppy, to mean I care more for you? We are running a fucking Inquisition here. I am responsible for more than your ever jaded feelings.’. He downed the last of the liquid in his goblet in agitation, clearly vexed by my accusations. A shadow fell across Cullen’s face, and his eyes grew stormy as he turned around to me. ‘You cannot imagine what thoughts go through my mind every time you leave Skyhold’ he muttered bitterly ‘You do not know how many times I wished it was I who received that mark of Corypheus. I am not afraid to sacrifice my life, and all that I am to this cause. Yet to know that you have that burden. To know that you could not return one of these days...’. The Commander shook his head ‘Do not ask me why I do not wait for you to ride in through those gates.’. He looked furiously towards me, standing up from the table ‘This is why we cannot be together. I will not be the one responsible for your pain. I told you that.’

‘You are already doing that.’ I scowled ‘Don’t you understand? You could have done anything, anything at all, and I wouldn’t care less. All I want is you Cullen. You.’

With more than a few obscenities under his breath, Cullen slammed his fist hard against the wooden beam of the bed, shuddering the frame. ‘By the Maker, you are a mage Trevelyn!’ he roared ‘A mage. You could be corrupted by a demon at any time, and turn into one of the many abominations that I saw at the Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall. Do you think I can see you in any other light?’

‘I am not an abomination.’ I retorted darkly.

‘What? Should I take your word on that?’ he sneered ‘Oh, okay then! Do you know how many mages, like you, have claimed they were in control only to have turned into abominations? And do you know what I did to those mages, in Kirkwall under Meredith’s orders?’. The Commander started to laugh a drawn out and contorted laugh, black as night and deranged as a maddening waltz. It was the kind of laugh that made one uneasy. ‘We executed and tranquilised mages, hundreds of them.’ continued Cullen ‘Put out the light in their eyes, one by one. Meredith may have been harsh in her methods but she was right. If you give mages even an inch of freedom, they will abuse it. Wherever I turn, this is what happens eventually to the mages around me. You all cry injustice and yet do you ever think of the victims that have suffered under the foul hand of your magic? You know what I think of mages. Do you not understand? I will never trust you, and you most certainly will never trust me. I have hurt your kind, and maker preserve me I never do that to you...’

Cullen looked accusingly at me, waiting for a reply as I stood there with a pained expression carved across my face. His chest was rising and falling heavily, and I could hear him breathing in and out deeply, obviously distraught at the reality that lay before him. Was I really that abhorrent to him? How could someone that meant so much to me think so little of me in return. It seemed cruel and unfair, and I knew the only way to replace the hurt I was feeling was to hurt him more.

With a look that could have killed, I drew my palm wide and uttered some words under my breath, drawing a bright orange flame ball to my hand suddenly. In all honesty, there was no reason for the act except to punish the Commander’s cruel words. If he truly despised mages and magic, if he truly could only hate me, then I hoped he would strike me down now and end my suffering.

The look in Cullen's eyes told me how much this act hurt him. A flash of brilliant blue light emitted from his hands as he performed a spell purge on the area. The shock of the purge knocked me flat against the wall behind me, the flame in my hands diminishing without a moments hesitation. Before I could gain my balance, a pair of firm hands pushed me hard against the wall, Cullen breathing rapidly now as he held my hands in place.

‘Don’t you ever do that in my presence again.’ he growled, eyes lowered into mine threateningly.

I tried to move but was defenseless under his tight grip. ‘Or what, Commander?’ I yelled back ‘Will you turn me into a fucking tranquil?’

Panting with rage, Cullen pressed himself against me as I struggled to escape, squeezing his grasp on my wrists tighter and tighter against the wall until I yelped in pain.

‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it?’ hissed Cullen ‘For me to hurt you? Is this what you want from me? Maker be damned for throwing you into my path, I would have preferred Corypheus himself. Curse you for plaguing my thoughts and haunting my dreams, until I question my very own sanity, for no one should feel the things I feel towards you.’

I could scarce feel my wrists anymore, the blinding pain searing into numbness. Holding his gaze I remained calm and became quiet. ‘Do what you must Cullen.’ I murmured sadly ‘You could never hurt me.’

The words echoed in the room, like a sad toll of a chantry bell when someone had passed, wiping the hardened frown on Cullen’s face. Heavily breathing, Cullen drew his panting lips to mine, suddenly releasing my hands in order to wrap his own tight around my waist and pull me towards him, devouring me in a deep kiss that threatened to drown us both in it’s intensity. Still constrained, the ex-templar used his torso to hold me against the wall, consuming me in a series of laps and sucks and lips, biting and pulling my bottom lip before starting all over again.

Finally pulling away, Cullen held my face firmly in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine. ‘How can I possibly hate something that makes me feel like this?’ he murmured ‘You mean too much to me and it terrifies me. I keep on pushing you away because I fear to lose you. What madness possesses anyone to do such a thing?’

‘I would never hurt you.’ I whispered with a quivering lip ‘I’m so sorry for casting magic. I would never use magic on you. I would willingly wish it away forever if it gave you even a moments peace.’

Cullen brought a finger to my lip ‘Shhh, I won’t hear it. I deserved worse for what I said. Forgive me and my temper. I am better than that.’. His sandy waves of hair fell down across his brow as he lowered his gaze from mine.

Bringing my hands to his face, I drew his eyes back to mine. ‘You could never hurt me.’ I murmured ‘Let me in and I will never leave your side, I swear it.’

He shook his head, placing another soft kiss on my lips before withdrawing ‘Foolish girl. You are already in.’. Cullen cast me a unimpressed look with a grin ‘I knew you would be trouble for me, and it turns out I was right.’

I wanted to laugh but the seriousness engulfed me. ‘I can’t convince you to trust me as a mage,’ I pleaded ‘and I understand that. I really do. But know this, there is nothing you can tell me that would change how I feel about you. Nothing.’

Cullen nodded briefly, perhaps unconvinced by my claim ‘In time you will get to know me, and we will see. Until then, I can only assure you that you have nothing to fear from me. I would never hurt you intentionally. That is all I can promise.’

The faint light of the sun on the horizon began to dimly light the skies outside, and we retired, Cullen and I, to the bed out of sheer exhaustion. Wrapping his arms around me, we fell asleep in each others embrace as the new day approached, unaware of the turbulent night we had endured. Of all the moments we had experienced until that point, I remember never feeling so intimately connected to Cullen as I did on that rickety old bed in Ortik’s Inn in the wee hours of the morning, blissfully entwined in a deep slumber. The warmth of his breath on my neck and the soft throbbing of his pulse against my skin, these were the most precious gifts I could ever have received from Commander Cullen.


	5. A Broken Heart

**Chapter Five: A Broken Heart**

  


None of us could recall a colder season than the one we had found ourselves hopelessly in that particular winter. Perhaps being hauled up in a drafty Keep in the heart of the Frostback Mountains didn’t help our cause, with the iciness managing to penetrate even the sunniest of days. Varric had once claimed he had found snow deep in the nook of a crag in the high of summer, and I was now inclined to believe him. Even Blackwall confessed he had found frost on his beard on more than one occasion. Fires were lit throughout the Stronghold, in every room and in the pits outside in the courtyard, even on the battlements, yet it provided little comfort.

There was something that made this season especially unforgiving. Most blamed it on Corypheus or an impending Blight, with stories circulating that the heat from the sun was dying, the untamed winds slowing, the once nourishing earth was now barren and the cool flowing waters of the rivers had turned rancid. All omens of terrible times to come. Although as Solas simply put it, fear and the dormancy of the season merely fed on the ignorant imaginations of the men and women of Thedas. Nothing more.

Omen or not, it was true that the last harvest had yielded poor results across the realm, and the larders were not as abundant as one could have hoped for. More and more people were seeking refuge at Skyhold from the icy bitterness, people that could not be turned away despite the Keep’s larders running ominously low and the blankets and clothing being far and few between.

The responsibility of so many lives weighed heavily on all our shoulders, and the Counsel of the Inquisition felt its effects in particular. Leliana worked late into each night and hardly retreated from her tower although many agents were seen coming and going at all hours of the day. Cassandra consumed herself in her training with a level of discipline that seemed excessive, and Josephine refused to take a moments break until exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep at her desk. Cullen had been called away to the Griffon Wing Keep in The Western Approach the day after our last encounter, and it had now been over eight weeks since I had seen the Commander of the Inquisition.

I retreated to my chambers whenever I was spared a moment of respite, longing for the silence that no other part of the Keep could afford. An untoward chill invaded every part of me even when the fire of my room blazed strongly and it’s intensity turned my white skin pink and flushed, although I could not blame the weather for that. I knew who was to blame and they were no longer in Skyhold.

Eight weeks prior, Cullen and I had hardly exchanged even a few words between each other when we awoke in our room at Ortik’s Inn. Whatever sentiments the Commander had held towards me in the previous hours seemed to have evaporated in our dreams and Cullen once again seemed distant and distracted. Of course the confession of his disdain for mages did not help our cause and by the time we arrived back at Skyhold, I was relieved to be parted from the uncomfortable silence of our travels. I was notified by Josephine later that day that Cullen had been called away to the Griffon Wing Keep. Leaving for the Western Approach, he never said goodbye. Cullen had simply left.

With all the self hate and loathing I already had for myself, this new revelation of Cullen’s had reduced me to utter contempt. Yet shamefully I still wanted to be near him, even if he hated me, and I knew being close to him would offer me some comfort. That was my sad reality now. For all the pain I was feeling, something in me justified each and every one of his actions in the desperate hope that some good could be made of it. I was being a fool, but my heart appeared to be bigger than my head even at the best of times.

****

Bright burning candles filled Skyhold’s Undercroft with a wonderful glow that evening as I worked at the armour crafting table. Thankfully the heat from the furnace and fire pit made the room invitingly warm and welcoming, despite the open design of the chamber exposing us to the elements at one end of the room.

Harritt had already retired for the day, and so Dagna and I were left to our own devices with the wonderful crafting equipment of the Undercroft to keep us company. The scent of dragon skin leather, freshly cut oak, smoke and warm steel delighted my senses and the Undercroft was one of the few places in Skyhold I enjoyed whiling away the hours.

A bang sounded from the entrance and suddenly the door flung open and a wild eyed Cullen stormed through, furiously searching the room until he laid his eyes on me sternly. My heart skipped a beat on seeing him after so long. Cullen had returned.

Dressed in his full armour, I could see the metal of his cuirass and greaves splattered with mud and red flecks of what I could only assume were blood of the unfortunates that crossed paths with the Commander. It was evident by his rough appearance that Cullen had only just returned, most likely just come off his horse. His sandy hair had grown a little longer and was more than a little disheveled, while the unshaven stubble on his jaw had become more rugged, and his face a little more tanned. A fresh cut presented across his brow, although it looked like it had been inflicted a few days prior and was already healing.

Not seeing the female dwarf arcanist looking hesitantly up at him, Cullen almost tripped over Dagna before casting his furious gaze down at her.

‘Leave us.’ he ordered dangerously.

Poor Dagna looked terrified as she scurried out of the room, muttering something nervously about the timing being good for she needed to visit the Skyhold library. Dagna closed the door quickly behind her, and I waited in slight amusement as Cullen continued to glare at me from the entrance of the Undercroft.

‘You spared Alexius’ life?!’ yelled the ex-templar in heated accusation ’What the fuck were you thinking?’

My momentary period of amusement drained from my face at the mention of Gereon Alexius. He had been in the Skyhold prisons awaiting judgement for many months now and my hand had been more than a little forced by Josephine to make a judgement recently. Being anything other than coincidence, I had chosen a time to do so when I knew the Commander would have been out of Skyhold. Unfortunately I was unaware Cullen would have been informed of my judgement so quickly on his return.

Wearily I rubbed my brow, flicking a quick glance to Cullen before turning away to my work once more. ‘Alexius has a huge depth of knowledge in magical equipment,’ I began ‘we all thought he would best serve the Inquisition in his research and-.’

‘We? We? No, no, no, it was your decision and yours alone.’ Cullen remarked angrily. ‘How could you be so reckless? After everything that you saw him do. Or is it because he is a mage?’

‘This has nothing to do with mages,’ I replied sharply, turning back to Cullen with a frown ‘apart from your reaction.’

A bitter scoff echoed in the chamber as Cullen shook his head at my reply. The sharp tap of his black boots rasped against the stone steps as he descended further into the Undercroft. His eyes pressed hard on me, before stopping at a nearby weapons rack. Roughly, Cullen grabbed a wooden prototype shield and training sword off the side of the rack and threw them on the ground towards me with a sharp clash, causing me to flinch and return a wide eyed look of bewilderment.

‘Defend yourself.’ he announced authoritatively, as if addressing an opponent.

‘What?!’ I asked sharply.

‘I act on behalf of the Inquisition and I believe, as Commander of the Inquisition, that you have acted carelessly and recklessly in your judgement. You had no right to make a decision like that, a decision that affects us all in such a negative way. As Commander of the Inquisition I am going to punish you for acting out of line. So pick up your weapon and defend yourself or feel the full wrath of my fury, unprotected.’

I began to laugh an amused, albeit uncertain, high pitched laugh that echoed throughout the Undercroft. A laugh that was trying to retrieve one in reciprocation from my companion. A laugh that unfortunately failed to do so. Cullen held my gaze fast and stern. He looked terribly, terribly….angry.

‘You’re serious?’ I remarked hesitantly, only to see Cullen move to grab his own wooden sword and shield from the rack. ‘What was I supposed to do?’ I continued quickly, hoping to calm him down ‘Alexius was in the pocket of Corypheus. He has knowledge about our enemy. Knowledge is power, surely you see this?’

‘You are a fool if you think Alexius has changed loyalties.’ Cullen responded coldly ‘Men pledge their loyalty to that which they fear the most. Who do you think is more of a threat? You or Corypheus?’. The Commander started towards me, wooden sword held in his right hand and shield held in his left.

To say I was concerned was an understatement. Jumping away from the crafting table where I had been, I scattered away just in time to avoid the ram of Cullen’s shield into the wood. It hit the side of the table loudly and knocked several crafting items onto the floor with a series of clashes and clangs.

‘What is wrong with you? This is hardly fair!’ I shouted in protest ‘You’re a fucking templar. And I’ve done nothing wrong!’

‘Ex-templar.’ corrected Cullen darkly, making his way towards me again ‘And was it fair to all the people that you saw in the future that died and suffered by the hand of Alexius? Was it fair to all of them that you dismissed Alexius of his crimes today?’

‘I stopped that from happening!’ I replied quickly before leaping away as Cullen came rushing towards me again. He narrowly passed me, but turned quicker this time, directing his gaze onto me once more. ‘Stop this Cullen! I’m the damn Inquisitor, it was my call. You can’t bloody punish me for doing my job!’

‘No,’ roared Cullen ‘you are the Inquisitor but not the Inquisition. You put us at great risk by your actions and decisions. If a soldier does that, they are punished. Now come here!.’

‘I’ll cast magic, damn you!’ I cried out in threat ‘You are out of control!’

Cullen shrugged ‘It’s a pity you’ll find you cannot cast magic in here. Harritt was concerned our arcanist would end up killing him with her experiments so we magically protected this area so nothing untoward would happen.’

My heart sunk a little at this news.

Cullen proceeded once more, approaching as I stood in front of a shield stand. Desperately I grabbed a steel helmet off a spike and threw it at the Commander, only for him to knock it away with his shield in an effortless manner. That action cost me any opportunity to escape from the impending blow, and Cullen rammed me hard with his wooden shield so I fell back onto the cold stone floor. The air escaped my lungs as I hit the floor, dazed and confused as I tried to locate my aggressor.

‘I want you to say you were wrong and Alexius needs to be executed.’ stated Cullen sternly as he stood over me, casting his amber eyes down on me in judgement.

‘Cullen stop this!’ I appealed. Crawling backwards quickly, I managed to unceremoniously escape the Commander via under the weapon crafting table, gaining my foothold once more and drawing a real steel blade lying on a nearby table to protect myself.

‘Steel it is.’ muttered Cullen as he unsheathed his own long sword, approaching me once more.

‘You said you would never hurt me!’ I yelled at him angrily.

‘There is a difference. I am punishing you for something you did that was wrong.’ growled Cullen ‘Everyone is accountable in Skyhold, even the Inquisitor. Stop this nonsense and let us get this over with. Come here and you can take your lashings or we’ll continue this until you submit, and then I’ll lash you even harder.’

‘Fuck off!’ I yelled, edging around the table and making a final desperate dash to the entrance.

Tripping over the jagged stone steps, I felt a rough pair of gauntlet equipped arms grab me hard around my waist and fling me onto my back on the nearby crafting table. Pinning me down with a strength I couldn’t compete with, Cullen grabbed both my hands above my head to keep me in place as he breathed heavily into my hair.

‘You’re making this harder than it has to be.’ he hissed, grabbing some scrap plaidweave cloth and tying my hands together as he pressed me down on the table ‘If you just submitted I wouldn’t have been forced to do this.’

For all the protesting and cursing I could muster, I couldn’t move an inch under the Commander’s firm hold. He bound my hands tight, his teeth clenched as he pulled the cloth tight before standing me up and marching me to the back of the room towards a rack of flails, maces and morningstars. ‘It gives me no pleasure to hurt you Inquisitor, but this needs to be done.’ he remarked in an unnerving, carefree manner, as if being asked to perform some tedious task.

Like a rat being threatened with drowning, I dug my heels desperately into the stone floor, my grip slipping on the cold smoothness. Cullen had a firm grip on me and dragged me towards the rack, his fingers digging sharp into my skin as he pulled me across. I knew this had gone too far and I wasn’t going to wait to be bludgeoned.

‘Damn you, you’ve gone mad!’ I shrieked as he strung my hands up onto an angled corner wooden beam directly above me.

‘Settle yourself!’ he growled ‘Or I’ll bind that mouth as well.’

My heart was pounding through my chest and my lungs taking in too much air, a string of foggy thoughts filling my head as Cullen strung me up and turned me to face the wall. I couldn’t see what was happening but I heard the soft clang of metal from the rack behind me, and then the footsteps approaching me closer….and closer….

Suddenly I felt Cullen behind me, his hands wrapping around to the front of my waist to lift my top. He drew his warm lips to the side of my neck and began kissing me softly.

‘Tricked you.’ he grinned beside my ear.

Cullen continued to gently kiss my neck as his hands trailed to the bottom of my shirt, running softly over my naked shivering belly and up towards my chest. The rough skin of his large hands grabbed a breast in each, massaging both with unbridled enthusiasm and kneading my nipples, pinching and pulling them harder and harder as he ran kisses along my neck and shoulders. His hands were warm, hot almost, buzzing with an energy that felt exquisite against my skin.

‘You bastard.’ I cursed, half serious ‘Is this what you do in your free time? Take delight in torturing people?’

‘Not all people, just you.’ he replied devilishly, turning my head to his and drawing his mouth to mine. His kiss was hard and focused, determined to taste me with his deep tongue as he turned me around, still strung up and helpless to his touch. ‘Maker’s breath how I’ve wanted you.’ he whispered in my ear, playfully biting my lobe ‘I’ve wanted to fuck you so badly, you have no idea. I came here the moment I arrived.’

‘And so you planned to pretend to be angry and flay me on your return.’ I scoffed with a shake of my head ‘Wouldn’t an intimate walk in the herb gardens have been more appropriate?’

‘I said I wanted to fuck you,’ quipped Cullen with a smirk ‘not take a turn in some damn herb patch.’. He drew his lips to mine and playfully bit my bottom lip for a lingering moment. ‘I could punish you if you like?’ teased Cullen as he continued to rub his hands over me in my helpless position ‘I can’t say the idea didn’t cross my mind when I heard of your decision this afternoon.’

‘So you were angry?’ I replied accusingly.

‘Your decision was a terrible one,’ replied Cullen darkly ‘but perhaps we should not dwell on that for now.’

Cullen began to unbutton my top, smirking at me as he effortlessly pulled apart each button. I watched on helplessly until he parted the material, exposing my hard nipples to the cold night air of the Undercroft. He drew his lips to them, one by one, sucking them softly between pinches and playful bites, as his hands ran up against the warm flesh of my back

‘I can’t say I haven’t fantasised about punishing you.’ he murmured.

‘Really?’ I whispered as he blew his warm breath against my breasts before planting his lips on them again in a shower of open mouthed kisses ‘I hope they didn’t involve morning stars or maces….’

Cullen grinned, looking up at me as he sank slowly to his knees, curving his fingers into my trousers and pulling them down slowly down over my hips, exposing me. ‘Hardly.’ he chuckled, planting warm kisses on my belly ‘I suspect I would put you in the stocks and let you take me in and out of your exquisite mouth until I filled your throat with my release. Perhaps in the courtyard of Skyhold so everyone can witness your punishment? Or maybe I would tie you to the courtyard gibbet, pulling the ropes tight across your bare flesh, binding your thighs against the wood with thick ties, the coarseness digging into your soft milky skin….’. He trailed off, kissing my inner thighs and his locks of sandy blonde waves tickling me with delight as he delved between my legs, finally reaching my exposed lips with a moan.

Feather light, he parted my lips with his fingers and flicked the tip of his tongue lightly against my pearl as I squirmed above, my arms aching more and more from the constraints that burned my wrists. The moistness of his mouth on my mound sent me over the edge and I writhed in utter torment as he engulfed me.

‘Maybe I would constrain your hands on an above wooden beam,’ murmured Cullen between licks, his hot breath tickling my thighs ‘and do what I wish until I was spent, and then leave you all strung up....’. My head fell back and a deep breath drew in my chest as he inserted his fore and middle finger into me, pushing up to his knuckles before withdrawing to repeat the assault again, and again, while he continued to ravage my fleshy bud with his warm, pink tongue. His large hands held my thighs steady, but I was beginning to tremor more than a little. Cullen pulled away and looked up with an amused grin.

‘Did you miss me?’ he grinned, standing up once more to face me, drawing his mouth to mine to plant a deep, lingering kiss.

Biting my lip with a smile, Cullen nodded with a smirk. Pulling away, he reached over to unsheath a poignard attached to his left cuisse, drawing a sharp, shiny blade.

‘Don’t move.’ he purred as he ran the tip lightly across my collar bone and trailed lower down the middle of my abdomen past my sternum and lower to my belly.

My breath was shallow, I could feel the threatening sharpness of the blade although it made no impression on my skin. Cullen was enjoying teasing me with it a little too much, I could see him bulging hard from below as he ran the blade over my flesh in circles and swirls. He pressed the cold blade against my belly, before turning the blade towards him and running the hilt lower and lower.

‘My lucky poignard.’ he murmured wickedly, holding my gaze with a smile as he moved into position.

I gasped as I felt the rounded handle of the dagger spread me as Cullen ran along my lips, coating the hilt in my juices. The cold metal aroused me to be sure, although it was nothing compared to the owner’s intimate dagger I desperately craved for. The Commander took great enjoyment in prodding and rubbing me with the hilt, curiously watching me with delight as he pleasured me.

Finally Cullen pulled away the dagger and raised the blade to my constrained hands, cutting the material securing them to the beam. With a pained gasp, my hands were released and the blood came back to them once more as I collapsed onto my knees in front of the Commander.

Still on my knees, I crawled over to the ex-templar who was watching me with a smirk on his lips and throwing me a lustful look, still holding the blade in his hands as he hit the flat side against his palm repeatedly. My fingers ran to release his bulging member, something I could manage while he was still dressed in his armour. I pulled down the coarse material covering his crotch and his dick sprung out erect as I released him, pressed hard up against the base of his metal cuirass. The sensation of his blood filled cock, hot and ready, against the cold steel of this armour made Cullen release a moan from his lips.

The Commander maintained the hold on his poignard as he grabbed a fistful of my hair, encouraging me towards his member. Not that I needed encouragement. The beads of salty pre-cum melted on the tip of his cock and needed to be tasted, and my lips were begging me to appease their curiosity. Sinking my mouth over his bulging head, I slowly devoured his fleshy pikestaff as Cullen breathed heavily above me. I’d never felt the Commander so hard, so warm and divine. He oozed more pre-cum into my hungry mouth, moaning softly above me, and I greedily lapped him up as I ran tongue up and down his length, easing him through my lips and feeling his smooth, warm skin against my throat.

Still holding the back of my hair, his grip was becoming firmer and more forceful, his arousal revealing itself in the eager thrust of his hips and pull of his hands amongst my hair. His member twitched each time I ran my tongue over his throbbing head, and his body stiffened as I drew him deep into my warm mouth. Cullen’s breaths were growing shorter and it took all of his willpower to finally pull out of my mouth with a painful moan.

‘Maker stop.’ he growled ‘I can’t endure that.’

‘Good’ I purred, but before I could place his member between my lips once more I felt a firm pair of hands grasp my shoulders and lift me from the floor.

Raising a playful eyebrow, Cullen looked at me heatedly, his hands still holding the dagger. My hands trailed to the side buckles of his metal cuirass, eager to release him from his own constraints.

‘What goes on in that mind of yours?’ I grinned, starting to unbuckle his armour ‘Do you want to cut me with that blade? Hurt me perhaps?’

Cullen cast a serious look towards me as he pulled the metal breastplate over his head, ‘I meant what I said, I never would wish to hurt you. I find no pleasure in your pain I assure you.’. His white teeth playfully grazed his bottom lip as he threw me a grin ‘I did, however, enjoy fighting you before, perhaps a little more than I should have. To see you strung up so...helplessly, and me able to do whatever I desired.’. He drew his breath fast, a shiver crossing over his skin. ‘That is something I enjoy.’ he added huskily.

‘I let you win.’ I scoffed as I watched him pull his cotton shirt over his head. His scent filled my senses and I loved the smell of Cullen, that musky perfume of amber and spices mixed with a hint of sweat that overwhelmed me whenever I came in close contact with his bare chest.

Cullen threw me an entertained look, rubbing his shoulders and kneading the flesh of his tight muscles in his neck as he stared down at me. ‘Just how strong is the Inquisitor without magic?’ he mused ‘Show me what you’ve got.’

‘Says the warrior.’ I chortled.

The Commander let out an amused chuckle and began unbuckling his greaves, kicking them to the floor before undoing his pants and removing the remaining attire. Standing in front of me, full mast, Cullen opened his arms out towards me ‘Shall we proceed?’

I shook my head, and Cullen playfully nudged my shoulder to stir me on, throwing me a dashing smile that I couldn't resist. Knowing this would only end badly for me, I came towards him foolishly laughing as I reached for his arms to try and seize him. Even if I had the strength, Cullen’s amber eyes bore into mine with such an intensity that I found myself helpless before I had even begun. Before I could even touched the smooth white skin of his defined, muscular arms, he had grabbed my waist and spun me around, pushing me hard across the weapon crafting table, so my chest was pressed down against the wood.

‘Tut, tut. tut.’ murmured Cullen, as he held me face down against the woodgrain ‘Helpless again I see?’

I could feel the warmth of Cullen’s skin radiating against mine, and tried to press back against him.

‘You wouldn’t stand a chance, would you?’ he growled as he lent over me, and I felt the unforgiving rock hard prod of his member warm against my buttocks. Cullen was breathing heavy as I felt the head of his member slide between my folds. I remained bent over the table as he coated his pikestaff generously, stroking teasingly up and down my pink entrance.

I could feel his hand firmly holding my back down as he eased into me, inch by torturous inch, the force of his weight pressing my breasts rather unforgivingly against the table. I could barely breath, let alone move, as the Commander began to thrust deep, long thrusts into me. It was full of intensity and aggression, unreleased desire that had been building for weeks and weeks, and as a result his cock was overwhelmingly hard. Each stroke released a gasp from our lips, each stroke sending us further into the madness we had begun. Before I knew it the thrusts had become so forceful, Cullen was banging aggressively against the table and sending vibrations throughout the room.

‘I wasn’t joking.’ he growled into my ear ‘You need to be punished.’

Withdrawing suddenly but not releasing me, I could hear him reach for something behind me before I felt the familiar cold steel of his blade lightly tracing across my ass. With a sharp flick, he landed a stinging blow of the flat of the dagger against my cheek and resulted in a cry from my lips, before he rammed his cock into me again. His thrust was unexpected but deeply satisfying, and I cried out as he remained deep within me before he began to grunt in short, sharp deep thrusts in me, alternating with sticking flicks of his blade against my cheeks.

‘Do you want me to hurt you?’ I asked as Cullen continued to fuck me.

Cullen stopped suddenly, withdrawing and releasing his grip on my back. I turned around to see him breathing deeply as he cast his eyes to the weapon rack close to us. ‘Hurt me with those weapons.’ he replied, drawing his intense gaze into mine ‘Fuck me and hurt me without holding back.’

Knowing better than to question Cullen, I moved over to the rack, running my eyes over a variety of foreboding spiked weapons. I couldn’t use steel on him, there was a limit to my desire to please him, and there seemed something wrong about beating him with a walnut quarterstaff, so I decided on a simple whip with braided leather straps, the kind that pirates liked to torture their prisoners with in order to retrieve information. Turning back, I held the whip in one hand and in the other I picked up a large beeswax candle sitting on a nearby ledge.

Stroking his member slowly as he watched me return, Cullen sat on the cold stone floor, leaning against the wall.

‘Now that is an exquisite sight that will haunt me forever.’ he mused, extending his hands to me ‘Come to me.’

I dropped the weapon beside us as I stood over him, and he grinned as he pulled me down, directing his member to ease up into me. It was incredibly thick and entered me deeply from this angle, and I couldn’t help but catch my breath as I took him deep into me until I was sitting firmly on top of him.

Leaning up to me, the ex-templar kissed me deeply, running his hands to wrap around my neck and applying the slightest of pressure. ‘I love the way you yield yourself to me.’ he whispered.

Without warning, I grabbed the candle from the floor and poured the large pool of hot wax from the candle in splashes across his chest. The Commander more than winced a little from the unexpected pain as he released me suddenly.

‘I never said I yielded.’ I remarked with a grin.

‘By the Maker, yes.’ he growled, his flesh growing red around the wax droplets. Excited by the sensation, he thrust up to impale me harder, and in turn I poured more hot wax on his chest, this time directly onto his hard nipples. Groaning from the sensation, Cullen’s head went back as he took in the pleasure of being tortured with the molten wax, over and over again, until his chest was covered more than less so with the white, waxy coating.

Wild eyed and ravenous from the sensation, Cullen flipped me roughly onto the cold stone floor and began thrusting harder into me once more, transformed into an untamed creature more animal than human. There was nothing uttered except the grunts that parted from his lips as he rammed his member into me, his hair falling across his sweat covered brow.

‘What were you going to do with your weapon.’ he growled as he fucked me furiously.

Barely being able to respond, I caught my breath. ‘Whip you’ I breathlessly replied ‘Across the legs, torso...’. I cried out as Cullen thrust harder.

‘Then do it!’ he snarled, the darkness in his eyes screaming out to inflict his pleasure. My hand reached for the braided whip at my side, and finally my fingers found the wooden handle. As Cullen continued to fuck me, I lifted the whip and landed a blow against his back. The smack of the multiple straps released a sharp sting against his broad shoulders and Cullen groaned at the impact.

‘Hit me again, but this time harder.’ he ordered, withdrawing from me so I could gain my footing. Standing, Cullen lent his hands hard against the stone wall, bracing himself for the next assault with his muscular, rippled back turned on me.

Biting my lip, I planted a stinging blow on the back of his thighs and the Commander yelled out in pain this time. I could see the red marks I had left and I froze in fear.

‘Cullen...’ I remarked cautiously.

‘Trevelyan, just whip me!’ he commanded, bracing himself again as I landed another stinging flail against his buttocks and then continued another two, three, four blows across his body until he was red, bruised and covered in thin cuts. Each time I landed a blow, he begged me to strike harder.

Turning suddenly, Cullen wrenched the whip from my shaking grip and pushed me against the wall. Lifting me off the ground from under my buttocks with his muscular arms, he let my weight drop onto his throbbing, rock hard dick. He knew he was in control, and held me there fucking me as furiously as he could as I submitted to the raw pleasure of his full mast inside me until there was no where to go except scream in complete ecstasy as he seeded me with one last, deep satisfying roar.

‘I love you….’ I breathlessly whispered as he held me there in that final thrust, deep inside me. I bit my lip, growing redder by the moment as I realized the words that slipped out of my mouth were released without my full consent.

Cullen’s eyes drew to mine, but they were not brimming with hope and admiration, of relief and gladness at my sentiments. His amber stare was narrow and cold, dark and unforgiving as he withdrew from me promptly.

‘Don’t ever utter those words in my presence again.’ he murmured in a low voice, turning away suddenly.

Watching him walk away, my shame transformed rapidly into blinding fury. ‘You speak as if I said something terrible.’ I replied angrily.

‘You did.’ remarked Cullen heatedly as he snatched his clothing scattered across the floor. ‘You said it in the vain desperation that I would say it back to you.’ he scowled, gnashing his teeth as he pulled on his pants and loose shirt ‘You say it to secure some hold on my heart, although I have already offered you freely what I have. Is that not enough? Why do you seek more? Do mere words have more of a hold over you than actions speak plainly?’

‘I said what I felt, damn you!’ I replied defensively ‘It was not for some sinister motive, although I am ashamed to have revealed my feelings considering the reception it has brought forthwith. Your heart is yours to give to whoever you choose, or keep it, if that is your will, locked away in your prison of rage.’

Throwing a dismissive wave as if to will him away, I continued to dress in silence.

Drawing his fore finger to a point, accusingly directed my way, Cullen demanded my attention ‘Do not play the jaded lover with me. I never had a heart to give you, and I never pretended to bestow any such thing upon you. Do not fool yourself into believing I am capable of love and all the deluded fancies your womanly desires may yearn for. I feel nothing, for I am not a person, only a vessel of ruin and despair, dashed against the rocks of my intrepid reality. Only instead of death embracing me as it should have and rescuing me from this maddening existence, I remain cursed and alive, and numb to the world. To you. To everything….’. The Commander broke off, his face clouded with thoughts I could not even begin to imagine.

‘Why didn’t you say goodbye when you left for the Western Approach?’ I asked suddenly.

‘What?’ asked Cullen.

‘When you left for the Griffon Keep eight weeks ago,’ I continued ‘why didn’t you say goodbye to me before you left?’

Cullen shook his head, turning his gaze softer on mine for a moment. ‘You know the reason.’ he murmured. There was pain in his eyes as he turned them away from me, concealing his face.

‘Then you do have feelings for me?’ I accused, perhaps more than a little childishly.

The Commander threw me a scowl as he finished attaching his breastplate. ‘To feel is not to love.’ he replied sharply ‘I feel nothing but hate, malice and lust. That is all you will find in my...heart, Inquisitor.’

The last words stung like poison, and perhaps that was his intention. Roughly grabbing his longsword, Cullen stormed out of the Undercroft, his heavy stride banging across the stones unforgivingly. I felt sorry for anyone that crossed his path in his present temper, but secretly hoped someone did. Someone needed to witness that devilish state that seemed ever so fond of my company.

‘Perhaps you were right Cullen.’ I muttered darkly under my breath as I moved towards the armour I had been crafting, scattered like leaves across the stone floor. The broken mirror was flawed and there was nothing staring back at me except my jaded reflection.


	6. How the Fallen Rise Again

**Chapter Six: How the Fallen Rise Again**

_Red is the rose that my love grows for you_

_Black is the night that my lies weave on through_

_Red is the blood that I spill in your name_

_Black is my soul when I tire of the game_

For the first time I could recall I was actually thankful to have been called away from Skyhold after Cullen had returned from The Western Approach. Several days of his brooding silence had slowly chipped away at my very soul, and if there was even a skerrick of remorse at his behaviour in the Undercroft I was yet to see it. With unforgiving diligence the Commander kept busy in his study, and mentoring recruits in the training yard, only leaving either to meet at the war table when duty demanded it. Instead of usually dining in the main hall, Cullen took all of his meals in his study. Instead of usually asking me questions relating to the Inquisition in person, he would send messengers. And instead of taking the shorter route through the Main Hall to access the lower rooms of the Keep, Cullen insisted on walking the longer way round and entering from the lower garden courtyard, in that way avoiding most people, including myself, along the way. It felt personal, and once after he passed me with a cold shoulder when we crossed paths in a stone corridor it finally dawned on me that it was.

Before I departed, I had the pleasure of one final war table counsel, of which Commander Cullen addressed my mission. That was the only time Cullen spoke to me, and it was unforgivingly straight to the point. His cold amber stare brushed over me as if I were a mere intruder to the counsel, someone who had managed to weasel my way into his superior presence. In his most sternest voice, the Commander informed me that the Inquisitor was to travel to Emprise Du Lion to locate the Red Templars that had been spotted in several locations in the area. Best of luck on your journeys Inquisitor.

So we set off, Varric, Vivienne, Cassandra, Blackwall and myself. Off into the Highlands of the Dales. The change was more than welcomed, however to our dismay Emprise Du Lion was as chilling, if not more so, as the Frostback Mountains, scattered only with crag and ice, elven ruins and frosty winds. I knew however that there was more warmth awaiting me here than in Skyhold, so I dared not complain even when the others bitterly did.

After a long, albeit cheerful, journey with Varric entertaining us with tales from his time spent living at The Hanged Man, we finally arrived in the Orlesian village of Sahrnia, a small village located in the north-east of Emprise Du Lion. Snow covered and poverty stricken, the villagers were struggling to survive. The winter sickness had spread, and there was barely a moment we didn’t hear a lung racking cough echoing through the town.

For the first time in my life I was thankful for being kept away from the harsh realities of survival that existed outside the circle tower. Somehow being cooped up in a circle tower where meals were bestowed upon us three times a day come rain or shine seemed more palatable now. Never had I been exposed to entire villages slowly dying, one person at a time, until all there was remaining was a cold pile of bones. Blackwall and Leliana, however, seemed unusually familiar with the misfortune we had stumbled upon, and took it in their stride with a hardened expression. That, I confess, made me most sad of all.

The unfortunate reality was the Orlesian Civil War had caused the once flourishing trading village of Sahrnia to come to a grinding halt. With no trade, Sahrnia had suffered greatly. To make matters worse the Red Templars had taken over the region, including the mines that the villagers relied on for work. All that was left was for the people of Sahrnia to revel in their ruin, fading away into nothing more than a memory of what once was.

‘These poor folk won’t last the winter.’ muttered Blackwall, casting his stormy gray-blue eyes somberly towards two shabbily dressed peasant women and an infant boy huddled over a small fire near the remains of a crumbling stone wall. A heavy sigh departed his lips, while his brow held a stern frown ‘An Empress and Grand Duke fight over the throne, and all they achieve is hurting their own people. The damn people they are supposed to protect.’. He shook his head in disgust.

‘That is the way of politics, darling.’ remarked Vivienne nonchalantly ‘Rulers only care about holding their title, and someone is always bound to suffer as result. Usually the innocent.’

‘If people serve their rulers, why shouldn’t rulers serve their people?’ muttered Cassandra darkly.

‘Oh what a pair you would make in the Orlesian court! You both are utterly divine in your innocence!’ mused Vivienne ‘Your radiant hearts would delight the nobles ever so much!’

Blackwall frowned ‘I’ve seen enough suffering to know injustice when I see it.’

‘You cannot right all the wrongs in the realm, my dear man.’ dismissed Vivienne ‘It is the way of life! It is the game.’

‘Aye but we’re here, aren’t we?’ replied Blackwall sternly ‘Hunting down those blasted Red Templars. That is righting the wrong. That is what the Inquisition serves to do on a daily basis.’

‘We’re here because Corypheus threatens to destroy us all. We wouldn’t be here righting the wrong if a bunch of villagers were merely suffering from lack of trade as a result of their Orlesian court being in disarray. I adore you idealising the cause of the Inquisition my dear, but do try to see the reason behind our actions are not always driven by righteousness.’

Blackwall looked angry and was about to reply, only for something to catch his attention. ‘There’s someone up ahead.’ he called out before charging forward.

Digging our heels into our steeds, we rode towards a group fighting in the nearby distance. The flurry of steel and the unnatural red glow of armour alerted us to the Red Templars, however they seemed to be more interested in fighting the lone man before them. A man with golden hair and magnificent deep blue plate armour with a golden lion’s head sigil on his breastplate. He swung a large silver long sword heavily against the continual assault of his enemy’s blades, turning swiftly to defend himself from all angles as the Red Templars approached.

Cassandra and Blackwall were already by his side, as Vivienne and myself began casting electricity and ice towards our fiery foes. The sharp click of Bianca could be heard beside me, her bolts hissing by my side and plunging lethally into the bodies of more than one Red Templar.

Before we knew it, eight Red Templars lay at our feet and our mysterious stranger stood before us with a relieved smile.

‘Thank you,’ he remarked warmly, standing to face me and my companions ‘Ser Michel de Chevin at your service, your worship. I saw the Inquisition’s banners from afar. Never expected to see the Herald of Andraste herself.’

The chevalier’s eyes pierced deep blue as he held mine, genuinely curious at our meeting. Michel was a tall and well built, muscular man in his thirties, with long, swept back golden tresses, and porcelain white skin that presented a soft flush of pale pink in his cheek and lips, and a well defined jawline, high cheekbones and a broad neck. His eyes were bright and cheerful, as if full of laughter and delight, and were as clear and deep as the waters of Antiva’s Rialto Bay in the mid of summer. From temple to cheekbone, a vertical scar adorned the left side of Michel’s face, with a smaller scar striking through his left eyebrow, no doubt endured from some dashing fight full of bravery and heroics.

Indeed, Michel de Chevin’s face was full of honour, grace and valour, and his physique reflected the elegance of a chevalier. On all accounts, I would have wagered none in our party had ever come across such an impressive knight, with even Cassandra being at a loss of words as he stood there before us. It was as if the light from the sun emanated from Ser Michel’s armour, an enchanting being that radiated his honour and valour, blinding the rest of the raggle taggle group that stood before him.

Ignoring the comment about being the Herald, a title that I had despised from the beginning, I quickly moved onto formal introductions amongst our party, and Ser Michel respectfully held each of my companion’s names with the greatest of attention and respect. Every remark directed towards the chevalier by our ineloquent lips was met with remarkable civility, as if Michel had never been so fascinated by each and every word that came from our mouths. Such politeness I had never encountered, and by all accounts Ser Michel de Chevin appeared to be the most charming creature to grace the lands of Thedas. We were all so besotted that by the time he asked for aid in vanquishing the demon Imshael, we could hardly refuse such agreeableness.

‘Inquisitor,’ began Michel ‘I hunt a demon. This one calls itself Imshael and has settled in Suledin Keep, up in the Hills. Imshael is alive because I made a mistake. I will see him destroyed. Now that the Inquisition is here, perhaps the Red Templars who guard the Keep can be routed. All I need is one chance.’

‘Of course we shall help!’ I replied immediately, looking over to my companions in hope that they also approved ‘A demon being protected by the Red Templars is something we cannot ignore.’

‘Then I am in your debt.’ replied Michel, his hand on his chest. He lowered his gaze in respect, before looking up to me once more. ‘I fear I must stay and defend the village of Sahrnia in case the Red Templars come this way. The people do not stand a chance if they are attacked, and I cannot have their blood on my hands.’

‘That is a good idea.’ replied Cassandra ‘We shall head towards Suledin Keep now.’

‘Be careful of Imshael,’ warned Michel ‘he is a desire demon and has wandered Thedas for a long time, growing to know the weaknesses of the mere mortal very well.’

We were too busy to notice at the time, but Michel’s face looked dark and wearisome as he spoke of the demon. Turning towards the Keep, we departed leaving the chevalier behind to guard the village, alone with his shadowy thoughts once more.

****

Trudging through the snow, our determination to reach the demon was also met with a growing curiosity of our newly met acquaintance, and as a result our party was not left for want of words.

‘The villagers of Sahrnia are lucky Ser Michel came into the area when he did.’ observed Cassandra.

‘I could have sworn you felt the same way Seeker.’ taunted Varric with a wide grin.

‘I see he has made an impression on you Varric.’ quipped Cassandra ‘I’ve never seen you grow so quiet in anyone’s presence.’

Varric laughed ‘Are you kidding me? He could charm an Orlesian noble out of their last gold coin. Heck, he won me over at Ser Michel de Chevin at your service!’

I threw my Dwarven companion a chuckle, and he threw me back a nod of approval.

‘Oh I agree darling, Michel de Chevin is like fine Orlesian silk.’ mused Vivienne, and the mage and dwarf grinned to an apparent private joke with raised eyebrows, a joke that none of the rest of us were privy to.

‘He is a man with honour and principles.’ interjected Blackwall ‘You can’t fault him for that.’

‘Ugh!’ scoffed Cassandra ‘You have only just met the man. How can you possibly know what his true intentions are?’

‘What about you my dear?’ asked Vivienne, throwing her gaze towards me ‘What is your opinion of our valiant chevalier?’

I gave a careless shrug. ‘I like the man.’ I replied ‘Not forgoing his impeccable inclination to be anything but highly agreeable, he is concerned with the wellbeing of the villagers of Sahrnia with no gain or self profit. And he seeks to destroy demons.’

‘Precisely.’ agreed Blackwall.

Varric started to laugh. ‘Ok, I’m already in the Ser Michel de Chevin fan club, so I hate to say it - but, is anyone going to address the treasonous elephant in the room?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ nodded Cassandra ‘Have we forgotten that Ser Michel is a traitor?’

‘He was declared a traitor darling, the two are quite different titles I assure you.’ dismissed Vivienne.

‘Traitor? Surely not!’ I protested, more than a little shocked ‘That man has more honour than an entire order of knights. What could he have possibly done?’

‘Michel de Chevin was Empress Celene’s Champion.’ informed Vivienne, eager to entertain us with Orlesian politics ‘He was to duel Celene’s cousin, Gaspard de Chalons, to the death. The duel weighed on the fate of Celene’s kingdom, it was all terribly important. Michel de Chevin beat Gaspard in the duel and was to land the final blow with his death, but at the last moment Ser Michel yielded.’

‘Why would he yield?’ asked Blackwall.

‘Haven’t a clue darling.’ replied Vivienne ‘All we know is that action resulted in Celene losing the duel. Such an act, to go against the Empress and yield to her opponent, resulted in Michel being stripped of his title as Champion and being declared a traitor. Michel escaped before Celene could execute him, oh and believe me when I say she would have done the act happily herself, such was her anger at his actions. Naturally Ser Michel’s name was removed from the Acadamie des Chevaliers and he is now disgraced. I highly doubt our poor ex-chevalier will grace the Orlesian courts ever again.’

‘Sparing a man's life is surely an honourable thing? What was the reason behind his actions.’ I pondered ‘Was Michel close to Gaspard?’

‘No my dear, he was by all accounts a very loyal subject to Empress Celene.’ remarked Vivienne ‘It was a huge scandal and everyone was quite shocked, I assure you.’

’Perhaps we will never know Ser Michel’s real story but I believe his actions now excuse any past behaviour he many have come to regret.’ murmured Blackwall.

‘I agree.’ I replied hastily, eager to dismiss any shadow cast on Ser Michel’s shining character ‘Orlesian politics can stay in Orlais for all I care. Michel de Chevin is a man who wants to help those in need. That is all I need to know.’

‘And yet, you know next to nothing about the man.’ muttered Cassandra half under her breath, in disapproval ‘At least we can all agree this demon needs to be destroyed.’

Upon reaching Suledin Keep, we did find many Red Templars and Imshael himself, determined to the very last to strike a deal to save himself from his demise. For all the coin, lust and power he could offer, Cassandra landed the final blow through the demon’s heart and Ishmael was finally rid of the realm.

We returned to find Michel de Chevin standing alert and ready to defend Sahrnia. After recounting our tale of victory we could all see Michel was overwhelmed with the news of our defeat of Imshael, as if the demon had been a burden on the chevalier’s shoulders for quite some time.

‘It is finally over.’ Michel muttered in shock ‘I wish I could have heard him scream but...Sahrnia is safe. It is a good day.’

I lifted my eyes curiously to the chevalier, intrigued by his somewhat strange comment regarding his wishes to hear the demon scream, yet my other companions seemed to have not noticed anything unusual so I too disregarded the comment.

‘You hear that Seeker,’ chimed in Varric, eager to taunt his female companion ‘it is a good day!’

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the dwarf before turning to the chevalier ‘Ser Michel, where shall you go now that the demon has been defeated?’. It was a loaded question, and we all knew our counsel member was after something.

The chevalier pondered the question as he rubbed his jaw. ‘I confess I had not dared hope Imshael would be vanquished so suddenly.’ exclaimed Michel ‘Now I find myself free to choose a new direction.’

‘The Inquisition is always looking for highly skilled warriors such as yourself.’ continued Cassandra.

With a warm smile, Michel bowed his head, holding his right forearm firmly upon his chest ‘Then I would be honoured to serve the Inquisition, if it would have me?’

‘The Inquisition welcomes you Michel de Chevin.’ I replied, more than a little pleased that we had managed to secure an Orlesian chevalier as an agent. By the smile on everyone’s faces, I could tell I wasn’t the only one.

Consequently we returned to Skyhold with an extra party member in tow. None of us were able to get a word in as Vivienne spent the entire trip back plaguing Ser Michel with questions about Empress Celene and other gossips and tidbits about the Orlesian Court. The poor man was so polite, and even appeared cheerful to discuss Orlais, even though we all knew his disgrace would have made any light hearted banter about his time as the Champion to Empress Celene quite painful to recount. Regardless, our chevalier rode on with valiance and courage in his heart, for that was the way of Ser Michel de Chevin.

****

A brilliant blue sky without a cloud in sight greeted us on our return to Skyhold, six weeks from when we departed. There were only a mere few days until spring and we could already feel the dancing Green Man all around us. The heady scent of Embrium and Felandaris lingered in the warm afternoon breeze, and whispered of better days to come.

As we rode across the stone bridge, through the giant stronghold gates and into the courtyard of Skyhold, we were greeted by a large group of mages and soldier recruits. There were a lot of fresh new faces, gathering eagerly to witness our return. Strangely enough it felt like I was returning home, and my eyes lifted with fondness to look across the magnificent keep, proud to see it was flourishing even when I had been away for so long. My wandering eyes came to pass a lone figure standing on the upper battlements looking down at us. The light caught a silhouette of a feather gorget, armour clad figure, and there was little doubt in my mind that it was Cullen. Resting his hands on the parapet, the Commander continued to study our party from high above as we rode on through to the stableyard.

Michel de Chevin sidled up beside me, his head turning around in wonder as he took in Skyhold for the first time. ‘Incredible!’ he remarked in awe ‘The Inquisition has found a most magnificent place to reside in.’

‘Oh this old place.’ I mused cheerfully ‘It must be a great deal less impressive than Val Royeaux - oh -’. I stopped with a frown, realising the insensitive nature of my comments. ‘Sorry. I’m sure the last thing you want to be reminded of time and time again is your former home.’

Michel threw me a small smile and waved off the comment ‘You are too kind, perhaps more considerate than most, and for that I thank you.’. Looking more serious he continued ‘Inquisitor I am most grateful and eager by this new opportunity to prove myself. I assure you my past will not interfere with my dedication or loyalty to you and your cause.’

‘I did not doubt that for a moment.’ I reassured, dismounting as the stable boy took the reigns of my tired steed ‘We are most fortunate to have you fighting on our side.’. Extending my hand to lead the way, we commenced walking up to the main courtyard, to ascend the stairs to the main hall. ‘This place was originally a ritual site for the elves.’ I explained as we walked ‘I believe Solas called it Tarasyl’an Te’las.’

‘The place where the sky was held back.’ murmured Michel.

‘How did you-?’ I remarked in surprise, stopping in my tracks.

The pale pink hint of colour in his cheeks flushed darker for a moment, before Michel laughed dismissively in reply. ‘Oh I have heard mention somewhat of Skyhold and it’s history from various people in Orlais. Forgive my interruption, please do continue. I would rather hear such tales from the Inquisitor herself than mere gossip from abroad.’

‘Well the keep was built later on,’ I continued ‘I think by the Fereldens, to act as a watchpost of sorts. Being on the border of Ferelden and Orlais, I suppose this would have served as an excellent fortress for such a purpose. I believe over the years, the keep was passed from hand to hand by a wide range of owners, why even a Ferelden enchanter resided here for a while! Naturally it was long abandoned and in a state of utter disarray when we came across it, under the guidance of our elven mage Solas.’

‘Remarkable!’ exclaimed Michel ‘What a fortunate discovery, and from what I hear, at a time you most desperately needed it.’

My face darkened at the reminder of Haven and Michel lowered his eyes.

‘My apologies Inquisitor, and for what it is worth I am deeply sorry for all those who were lost at Haven.’

‘Thank you.’ I replied ‘And yes, you are right, Skyhold was exactly what we needed after Haven.’

Stepping through the large wooden doors into the main hall, we were met with a sea of inquisitive eyes, eager to see the new addition to Skyhold. Michel de Chevin smiled across the room, greeting each pair of strange eyes as if they were his most dearest friends and family. I grinned, watching the chevalier woo the hall so effortlessly. Varric was right, he could have easily charmed an Orlesian noble out of their last gold coin.

At the side of the room, my eyes met with our head housekeeper, Mistress Elizabeth Bernadette. ‘Liza,’ I called out cheerfully ‘This is Ser Michel de Chevin. He will be joining us permanently, so he will be needing his own chambers.’

A portly middle aged woman, robust and jolly in demeanour with neat brown curls tucked under a cream cotton bonnet nodded briefly at the smiling chevalier, her pinafore as pristine white as her rounded cheeks. Mistress Bernadette was a bustling, hard working woman who oversaw the day to day domestics of Skyhold. It was said there no better cook, cleaner or seamstress in all of Thedas than Mistress Bernadette, and everyone looked to her with a fondness of a mother, for she took it upon herself to ensure every person living in Skyhold had a belly full of food and a warm place to sleep.

‘Aye,’ nodded Mistress Elizabeth ‘Right this way Ser, I’ll show yer to a wee place yer can stay.’

Looking back to Michel, I threw him nod of encouragement and smiled ‘Take your time to settle in, and make sure you get down to the kitchens for a decent feed. I need to address the counsel to see how you can best serve us while you are here. Can you embroider tapestries?’

Ser Michel chuckled as I threw him a grin. ‘Oh yes, and the finest dresses you have seen this side of the border.’

‘Perfect, I shall let the counsel know.’ I teased ‘We shall speak soon.’. I turned towards the back of the main hall, leaving Michel to follow Mistress Elizabeth.

‘Inquisitor.’ called out Michel.

‘Ser Michel?’ I replied, slightly puzzled, as I turned back to face him once more.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he continued ‘but I never learnt your name?’

‘My name?’

‘Well, I know you are the Inquisitor,’ observed Michel warmly ‘but what is your actual name?’

‘Oh! Ophelia.’ I replied pleasantly ‘Ophelia Trevelyan.’

‘Well met Ophelia.’ replied Michel with a beam that revealed his brilliant white teeth ‘Thank you again, Inquisitor.’. He turned to walk towards Mistress Elizabeth who was waiting impatiently by a door leading out of the main hall.

‘Please, call me Ophelia.’ I called out, and Michel turned around momentarily to address me again. ‘I would rather you call me that rather than Inquisitor. It’s a tad too formal.’ I added.

‘But of course.’ replied Michel warmly with a small bow before turning to leave.

Setting off once more, I made my way to call a meeting, unbeknownst to me that a small smile stayed on my lips from the main hall to the war table, never diminishing along the way.

****

‘So the Inquisition has secured Michel de Chevin as an agent?’ remarked Leliana, her green eyes sparkling with untold plans she was already spinning in her mind ‘Most impressive.’

Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana and I gathered around the war table, eager to discuss the events of our latest journey and the unexpected recruitment of Ser Michel de Chevin. Three large dripping candles burned on the edge of the great war table, and filled the room with a soft, sleepy scent of honey.

‘He is an exceptional warrior.’ remarked Cassandra ‘We witnessed him fighting many Red Templars single-handedly as he tried to defend the village of Sahrnia.’

Tapping my finger on the table, I pondered where Michel should be assigned. ‘The question is, how would such a warrior best serve us?’

The tired wooden doors of the war room opened as the council continued to contemplate the matter. We turned our heads to see Cullen, who silently entered the room and took his place by the table, acknowledging us all with a brief nod.

‘It is good to see you have returned successfully from your journeys abroad.’ the Commander remarked, casting his eyes from Cassandra to myself, lingering a moment or two longer on my eyes, before drawing his attention to a pile of documents lying on the table.

‘We have secured another agent that may be of some interest to you, Commander.’ informed Cassandra.

‘Michel de Chevin, yes.’ replied Cullen firmly ‘The chevalier that bested Grand Duke Gaspard in single combat, I believe? A most impressive feat. Michel is someone I desperately need to aid in training and developing our recruits.’

‘Oh and what makes you think he is to be your agent?’ quipped Leliana with a smirk ‘I have it on good authority that Michel has had first hand experience with the Eluvians. We could use him to aid in our research.’

‘You have Solas for that.’ replied Cullen disinterestedly ‘Besides, Michel is a warrior. Let him use his skills to the best of his abilities.’

‘You forget, Michel is someone I could benefit from aswell.’ chimed in Josephine ‘An Orlesian Champion that has been in the heart of the Imperial Court and knows the pitfalls better than anyone is invaluable. I have many contacts who would be willing to pay a great deal to discover what Michel has learnt along the way.’

‘Mere gossip for sad nobles.’ dismissed Cullen with a flick of his hand ‘We have actual soldiers who desperately need mentoring and I am already spread thin as it is.’. The Commander rested his hands against the table, looking more frustrated by the minute. 

Cassandra sighed, obviously as weary as myself from a day of travelling ‘Perhaps we should let the Inquisitor decide and then let us be done for the day.’

The room grew quiet as the counsel drew their attention to me, although I only really felt the piercing amber eyes of Cullen fixate on me from across the room. It pained me to take sides with Cullen, but I knew it was the best place for Michel.

‘Michel was the Champion of Empress Celene,’ I observed ‘and his skills would greatly benefit the recruits.’

Cullen nodded as the rest of the company pursed their lips and kept quiet.

‘Thank you, Inquisitor.’ replied Cullen in a softer tone.

His eyes were deep as he held my attention for a moment, and threw me a half smile to me, although I couldn’t be certain it wasn’t a smirk. I pulled my gaze from his, eyelashes blinking in distraction as I turned to Leliana. She was watching me with an amused grin, and I could guess her thoughts at that moment.

With a frown I added ‘If that is all, I think Cassandra and I should like to retire for the evening.’

Without waiting for an answer I turned sharply, pulling the wooden doors open and descending into the corridor, eager to leave the war council behind. The atmosphere was suffocating, and I longed for escape. Perhaps it was the clarity I had found those six weeks on our travels, but I had felt somewhat carefree in Emprise Du Lion only to return to those piercing amber eyes, and for all my world to come crumbling down around me once more.

‘Inquisitor.’ called out a familiar voice, and I turned to see Cullen at the doors of the war room ‘A moment if you please?’

There it was. My heart started pounded and my skin trembling as I stood there, waiting for Cullen to approach my side. I was ashamed of my behaviour even more than his, if that was even possible. How could I let anyone make me react like this whenever they were near?

‘Thank you for that decision,’ remarked Cullen ‘Michel de Chevin is someone I can benefit from greatly.’

‘He is a magnificent chevalier, you said it yourself.’ I replied, not slowing my pace as I headed for the main hall.

Cullen paused, regarding me curiously for a moment before continuing. ‘Would you care to take a turn with me?’ he asked in a low voice, his lip curling.

‘Not today, no.’ I replied sharply.

Cullen stopped in his tracks, grabbing my arm firmly to slow me down. ‘There is much to be said between you and I, as you are well aware,’ he acknowledged in a quiet voice, adding a little more sternly ‘and I don’t take kindly to playing games.’

With a sharp tug I pulled my arm free from his grasp, resulting in Cullen throwing me a surprised look. ‘Playing games is all you do.’ I whispered back angrily ‘You had the chance to talk before I left.’

Throwing him a scathing glare, I proceeded towards the main hall.

‘I waited for you on those battlements every day since you departed.’ Cullen called out.

It was a confession that stopped me in my tracks, pulling my gaze back to him once more.

Rubbing his hand through his sandy hair, Cullen revealed a pained expression ‘Every time an agent came riding through the gates I thought it was someone coming to tell me you had been killed. Every week that passed gave me more reason to believe the Red Templars had struck you down. I waited on that battlement and I swore that even if your dead corpse was carried through those gates, I would be there to greet you and to wrap my arms around you in an embrace one last time. To lay my lips on yours one last time. After what you had said, I thought you deserved that much...no matter how much it tortured me to think of such things.’

‘Maker stop.’ I pleaded, my eyes filling with tears as I moved back to the ex-templar. Grabbing his hands affectionately I interlaced his fingers through mine,

Cullen pulled me away from the entrance to the main hall so we remained in the isolated corridor. Wrapping his large hands over mine, he drew his body closer to mine, his demeanor growing softer as he looked down at me. ‘I am so sorry.’ he apologised in a low voice, drawing his forehead to my head and resting his brow against mine ‘What I said before you left was unforgivable.... It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.’

Breathing in deeply, I could smell that intoxicating scent of amber and spices lingering on the warmth of his skin. His words had stolen mine away, and all I knew was I didn’t want to break free from his hold.

Cullen’s jaw remained rigid and his eyes drew into mine, eyes that were full of regret and deep with pain as he moved his hands to cup my cheeks ‘Say you forgive me or Maker be damned I will curse him and myself for eternity. My temper is black and should never be cast upon you.’

‘I’ve been away for a month and a half with your hate in my mind. You have tormented me in my thoughts a thousand times a day.’ I muttered darkly.

Cullen looked wounded and he clenched his jaw ‘Do not speak that way. Do you not think I haven’t been tortured every second of the day knowing I sent you out into danger with that as your last memory of me? I have cursed myself day and night, wandering the battlements with only the stars to keep me company and knowing they looked down upon you while I could only gaze up at them. Those glittering jewels of devilish torment, laughing at me from up high. I damned the heavens each night for their advantage, and I grew bitterly jealous of the skies.’

Cullen closed his eyes, keeping me close as I drew my arms around his strong neck, pulling him into an embrace. Holding each other close, our cheeks now pressed against each other, I could feel the heat of his skin radiating into my very being. There was something intense and unspeakable that we both felt in that moment, with the quiver of his breath in the nook of my neck, and his tight grasp around my frame that threatened to break me.

‘Say you forgive me now,’ growled Cullen ‘please I beg of you, or seal my pain forever, for I will never forgive myself for an eternity if you do not.’

Drawing my lips to his, I placed a kiss on the ex-templar’s mouth, securing my answer.

‘I forgive you.’ I murmured as Cullen drew me to his lips again, a smile growing on his lips as he ran his hands through my hair.

‘Thank you.’ he whispered softly, nuzzling his head in my neck as he began to softly kiss the dip in my collar bone ‘You are my passion, both dark and light.’

Our breathing was drawing fast as Cullen softly caressed my neck with drawn out kisses that neither one of us wanted to pull away from. His hands ran across the curves of my body, as if touching me for the first time, running up the bend of my spine and down the side of my torso to my hips.

‘Commander! Uhhhh-’ exclaimed an unsteady voice behind us, and we both turned to see a flustered Josephine standing in the corridor trying to access her study.

Cullen threw me a devious grin before pulling away, turning to our intruder.

‘Yes, Josephine?’ replied Cullen plainly, with a calm countenance disregarding the intimacy that had been intruded upon. It was if nothing had happened at all. 

‘I have those letters you requested.’ she replied quickly, holding a group of papers awkwardly.

‘Please don’t let me interrupt. I really should go,’ I intervened quickly ‘before I fall asleep in the corridor. I am exhausted!’

Cullen threw me wink as he turned to Josephine. I threw him a grin and turned out the door into the main hall, drawing my eyes once more to admire his physique from afar. I longed to run over and draw the ex-templar into another embrace, but my eyes were lulling me to slumber. With a foolish smile I pressed on towards my chambers, leaving Josephine and her angry fist clenched tight, holding the papers requested by Commander Cullen…


	7. The Calm Before the Storm

**Chapter Seven: The Calm Before the Storm**

  


A large group were gathered around the training circle, mages and soldiers eagerly pressed shoulder to shoulder, with more citizens filing in behind, filling the outside courtyard of Skyhold. Desperately, the crowd tried to catch a glimpse of the two men facing each other ready to fight. Dressed in loose fitting white shirts, black pants and buckled knee boots, both combatants grinned at each other as they stood ready with their double handed longswords. Commander Cullen and Michel de Chevin were ready to entertain the growing sea of faces who watched on in delighted anticipation.

The sun was blazing down in a clear blue spring sky, while the larks and thrushes took turns and dives between the battlements as the crowd cheered on below. A warm breeze had settled in, a pleasant reminder that the long and harsh winter was finally over, and this in itself filled everyone with joy. Sufficed to say, nothing could dampen the spirits of the folk of Skyhold that fine day.

A smirk grew large on Cullen’s face as he stood face to face with Ser Michel, the ex-templar’s hair glowing like burnt sheaths of wheat at daybreak. ‘Do not have cause for concern,’ the Commander called out to the crowd ‘I will go easy on our newest addition to the ranks’. The crowd chuckled in reply, including Michel de Chevin.

‘Why Commander, I do believe you are sweating!’ jested Michel ‘_Is this fear perhaps?_ To face an opponent such as myself?’

‘Perhaps a fear of not giving the crowd an equal fight to enjoy.’ quipped Cullen, adding with a chuckle ‘I can change my sword to a wooden one if that would put your mind at ease?’

Grinning, the ex-chevalier moved towards Cullen in a sudden rush, his body agile and strong as he clashed steel with the Commander, drawing a few gasps from the onlookers. The men hit steel against steel several times over before pulling away once more, circling each other again.

‘If it would make you feel safer, I could change my sword for a feather? I’ve done it before for you Fereldens.’ taunted Michel with a mischievous grin. Michel was of course referring to his infamous duel with Teagan Guerrin, a duel that was performed with a chevalier’s feather. It was a weapon of choice requested by Empress Celene in order to placate the duel into nothing more than a harmless affair. Even after all this time, the story in itself was ludicrous at best, unbelievable at most, but nevertheless true in it’s entirety.

Cullen laughed loudly, the rich timbre of his voice echoing throughout the courtyard, and the crowd followed suit in their amusement. The Commander’s eyes shone bright, and there was a liveliness in his step. It was indeed a rare occasion to see Cullen so vibrant, and the recruits were eager to enjoy the experience. Everyone was well aware that the ex-chevalier, Michel de Chevin, had brought out the best in their Commander’s mood since he had arrived, and the soldiers were happy to relax for a brief moment while their mentors joked amongst themselves.

Cullen lunged towards Michel, hitting blades sharply once before jumping out of reach of the ex-chevalier’s swift, retaliating swing. Cullen lunged again, and Michel dodged the blade effortlessly, moving his own blade with a finesse that surprised even the Commander, landing a hard blow against his opponent’s sword that sounded a sharp ring, echoing out into the courtyard. The crowd gasped and applauded.

‘A man so strong, so powerful, a warrior commanding the world at his fingertips.’ yelled out Michel to the eager crowd ‘...and while we’re waiting for that man to come along for the tournament, I shall continue to practice on your Commander.’. The crowd chuckled loudly, and Cullen smirked with amusement.

‘A chevalier and a jester, what a splendid combination.’ remarked Cullen ‘Of course bravado will only get you so far in this tournament.’

The pair met with their steel again, sweat beading on their brows as they came at each other with focus and determination, the metal ringing in the courtyard as their blades hit hard against each other, moving backwards and forwards as each one gained the upper hand only to lose it once more. Their skill with a blade made the fight more of a dance than a combat, mesmerising and hypnotic as the clash of cold steel on steel transformed into a beautiful, haunting song.

The Inquisition was busy preparing for their first tournament, The Skyhold Grand Tourney, to be held on the mid spring festival. A popular tradition amongst the Orlesians, the grand tourney was an idea proposed by Michel de Chevin in order to booster the moral of the troops whilst simultaneously spreading the influence of the Inquisition further across Thedas. An idea that was welcomed with great enthusiasm and interest from all of those apart of the Inquisition.

The tournament was open to all men and women in the realm, to fight in single combat with a blunted, straight double edged blade until the first person yielded. The successful opponent would move on to the next round, until one combatant was remaining. The winner would be declared the Maister of the Blades, the most skilled swords person in the realm, and rewarded with five thousand gold pieces.

Naturally the prospect of a tournament and subsequent days of celebration created an ever growing buzz of excitement amongst the people of Skyhold, and as every day drew nearer to the day of the tournament the keep began to transform into a bustling place of festivity. Colourful banners, ribbons, and heraldry were being hung across the courtyard, wooden spectators seats assembled and a large gold tournament tree was erected, decorated with silk bows of green, purple and white; the colours of the mid spring festival. The darkness of winter and tragedy of Haven had all but quenched the people of their happiness, however a distraction such as this was, as Cullen put it, a step in the right direction.

‘Fighting with a longsword relies a lot on the strength of the upper body and the shoulders.’ informed Cullen towards the soldiers gathering around ‘However sword fighting is much more than strength and dexterity. You need to know your opponent before they know you. It is about reading their fighting style, anticipating their moves and using it to your best ability. You need to be alert, fast, and have your wits about you.’

Cullen stepped forward to Michel, lunging directly at his middle as he jumped backed, a little surprised, the Commander’s blade nicking the chevalier’s cotton shirt and ripping it from upper rib to navel, exposing Michel’s chiselled torso to the crowd as the wind whipped the loose material aside. More than a few whispers and giggles of admiration sounded across the courtyard.

Cullen grinned mockingly to his opponent ‘Sorry about that.’

‘Not at all!’ replied Michel brightly, flicking his golden locks off his brow ‘It must be nice to get a break from the admiration now that I am in Skyhold.’

With an amused smile, Cullen spun the hilt of his blade between his hands, swirling the weapon with ease as he studied his opponent. ‘The key is to avoid being on the defensive side of the fight.’ he called out to the crowd ‘You need to be on the attack and always be moving.’

‘Does that include spinning and juggling your sword? Are we teaching the recruits how to be entertainers now?’ mused Michel as he suddenly flanked Cullen in a short, swift flurry of steps, determined to the get an offensive angle on the Commander.

Without a moment's hesitation, the ex-templar crouched down, holding his sword horizontally across the ground, ever so slightly to the side of him, and with both hands still on his weapon lunged into a forward roll, before quickly jumping up with his blade in his hand once more as he turned to face an amused Michel. The crowd applauded loudly, with many people quite excited to see the agility of the Commander first hand.

‘And you call me the jester!’ chortled Michel.

With a satisfied smile, Cullen threw a brief nod to the crowd. ‘Perhaps we should let the others have their practice.’ he called out ‘The tournament is only five days away!’

A cheer sounded across the courtyard, a wave of excitement and delight spreading throughout. The ex-templar and ex-chevalier clasped arms with each other in a friendly shake, both highly amused at the effect they were having on the crowd, who still continued to whistle and applaud. They knew, as did the people of Skyhold, that finally things were changing for the Inquisition, and most likely, for the better.

****

Dashing through the kitchens that mid-morning, I narrowly missed a steaming glazed honey ham being carried out of the ovens only to step backwards into a table laden full of butteries, oatcakes, apples and warm bridies. The jolt into the heavy wood by my clumsy legs caused a jug of fresh milk to fall from the edge of the table and shatter on the ground, producing a series of curses from Skyhold’s cook, Madame Ruthie.

‘Now just what do yer think yer doing here skulking around the kitchens?!’ she chastised, pointing her wooden spoon accusingly at me ‘I just sent that damn Orlesian knight away, so don’t think I wont be doing the same to the Inquisitor.’

‘Surely I am more important?’ I protested with a foolish grin, trying to smuggle a few apples and butteries behind my back as cook glared at me.

‘Yer as just as important as the recruits or the smithy lads, and they have to wait until the sun is high above before they get their midday grub. So scram!’

Not wanting to stay around and be beaten with cook’s wooden spoon, with a leap and a dash I headed for the keep’s back door that opened to the outside stairs, leading down to the stables. As I departed the kitchen, I once again found myself colliding into something as I stepped onto the grey stone steps. It was Michel de Chevin, sitting at the top of the stairs, happily eating an oatcake in one hand and drinking a hot cup of tea in the other.

‘By Andraste!’ I cursed, pulling myself backwards before I tumbled to my ruin down the stone steps ‘What are you doing sitting at the top of the blasted stairs!’

The ex-chevalier chuckled in startle. ‘My apologies! I was trying to escape the kitchen and found this to be the perfect place of solitude and reflection.’

Like all the soldiers of Skyhold, Michel de Chevin was dressed in his full suit of armour, however his chevalier’s blue steel cuirass with the golden lion’s head had been replaced with a plain Ferelden steel plate mail. It seemed the ex-chevalier had abandoned his Orlesian armour, and whether it was done out of respect for his fellow soldiers or his own regard, I was glad to see the transition towards the Inquisition.

‘The perfect place for my untimely death.’ I muttered. Shaking my head, I suddenly noticed the fragrant steaming beverage in his hand. ‘How come you got tea!?’ I exclaimed in amused outrage ‘All cook gave me was a reminder that the Inquisitor doesn’t get any special treatment.’

‘Ah but did you compliment cook on her fine choice of dress,’ grinned Michel ‘a colour that certainly brings out the best in her blue-grey eyes. Eyes that remind one of the dawning of a winter’s day when all is calm and still on the frozen valleys, scattered with bracken and thistle more stunning in it’s simplicity than a thousand rose bushes in the Imperial City gardens in spring.’

I rolled my eyes in disgust as Michel started to laugh louder, jiggling his cup of tea tauntingly at me.

‘Mind if I join you?’ I asked, adding with a satisfied grin ‘I managed to grab butteries, and apples before cook could see.’

With a fine chiseled jaw, the ex-chevalier smiled warmly at me, moving near the edge of the steps that ended in a steep drop over the edge, so I could sit beside him on the safer side against the wall of the keep. It was a chivalrous gesture, and one of many I had grown accustomed to since getting to know the Orlesian knight.

‘It would be my pleasure.’ he replied pleasantly.

Michel de Chevin cast his blue eyes across the yard below us, a calm and serene expression on his face as he sipped away at his tea once more. Master Dennet was far below, eagerly discussing something with Blackwall, while a few people passed every now and then to peruse the merchant wares nearby.

‘How are you settling in, Ser Michel?’ I asked between bites of bread.

‘Please, it is just Michel now.’ remarked the ex-chavalier in a serious voice ‘I cannot go by a title that was stripped from me. I am no longer a chevalier, and can no longer be referred to as Ser anymore. I am simply, Michel.’

‘Of course.’ I replied regretfully ‘Sorry...’

He waved off the apology with a smile, before taking a deep sip of the warm brew. Michel rested his head back against the rough cut stones of the keep, exposing the small lump on his throat and his muscular neck. ‘When you train to be a chevalier, you are taught there is nothing more important than serving Orlais.’ remarked Michel ‘The honour instilled in our hearts is more important than that even of our own lives. There is no greater shame than being dishonoured.’. He grew silent, taking another sip before continuing ‘Even when I found myself disgraced and exiled, those feelings instilled into me as a chevalier never dissipated. I did not think I would be able to pursue another path, especially one that was not serving the Orlesian Empire….’. Michel drew his eyes to mine with a soft smile ‘...and yet I find myself serving the Inquisition with as much passion in my heart as when I began training at the the Acadamie des Chevaliers. I have a purpose here and a new chance to start over again. To make some good in the realm. It is an opportunity I wake up thankful for, each and every day. My old title offers nothing for me now, and only serves to remind of darker days.’

‘Do you miss your old life at all?’ I asked hesitantly.

Michel’s blue eyes grew somber, as if his mind was filling with unpleasant memories.

‘I’m sorry Michel, I did not mean to-’

He threw a small smile, rubbing his hand through his blonde hair and disheveling his tresses ‘You are very considerate, thank you. It is hard to long for a life that ended in shame and dishonour. By the code of the chevalier, I should have willingly gone to my death. There are times however, I have discovered of late, when we are forced to make a decision and either choice laid before us will be seen as both honourable and dishonourable. Different eyes see matters in a different light.’

With a frown, I struggled to understand the meaning of the ex-chevalier. Not wanting to pry, I resided to relate to my own set of circumstances ‘Well, I’m a mage and I dare say half of Thedas, if not more, see me as an abomination and would consider me better off dead. More perhaps, after what happened in Kirkwall. Others see some good in magic. As you said, different eyes.’

‘I do not think anyone who knew you would judge you.’ he replied warmly ‘Your skills as a mage have been used to help so many. You are a good person, with a unique talent.’

Shrugging, I took a bite of apple, not convinced.

‘There is a life energy here that I have longed to be amongst for some time.’ continued Michel as he cast his eyes around the keep ‘In Skyhold there are so many things happening around us, and so many people living their lives as they should. No suffering, no anger or lies and deceit. No drawn out politics and childish games. No cruelty and injustice, especially directed towards those of lower social standing. It is so different from my time in Orlais. To answer your question, no, I do not miss my old life.’

I handed across two butteries, which Michel took with a grin ‘And Ferelden food is growing on me.’ he added ‘Plainer perhaps, but heartier and more satisfying.’

‘Cullen says the key to happy soldiers is knowing at the end of the day they get a well cooked meal.’ I observed ‘Sometimes the simple things in life are the most satisfying.’

‘He’s right.’ replied Michel, taking a hearty bite into the bread.

‘It’s good to hear you are settling in so well.’ I added, biting into a butterie hungrily ‘Cullen says nothing but shining reviews about you, and trust me, that is saying something.’

‘I have never met a more honourable man.’ confessed Michel, taking another sip of his tea ‘He would have made a magnificent chevalier. Cullen acts for the benefit of others in such a selfless way, and he cares a lot for his soldiers, but isn’t afraid to reproach them for their betterment as warriors, dare I say even as respectable citizens. I find that healthy balance is the mark of a great Commander and a great man. Truly, I am humbled to be working alongside such a person.’

I bit my bottom lip as I smiled, quickly shoving more bread into my mouth lest my foolish idolatry should be noticed.

‘And this tournament you have organised,’ I added quickly ‘it couldn’t have come at a better time. It has rallied the spirits of everyone. Why I received word just this morning that over five hundred people are traveling on their way to attend!’

Michel turned to me, his eyes smiling ‘The Skyhold Grand Tourney will be celebration of magnificence. The people of the Inquisition deserve some happiness for all the hardship and sacrifice. You deserve some too. You rule over so many and are responsible for so many lives, and yet here you are eating stolen butteries with me on the steps on the battlements. It is humbling....’

‘Cook’s right, I’m nobody special.’ I shrugged.

Michel cast his blue eyes passionately to me ‘You are the Inquisitor. You protect, clothe and feed these people, and they in turn serve the Inquisition. You are special, Ophelia.’

Narrowing my eyes, I held Michel’s ardent gaze ‘You’re just after my apples aren’t you?’

‘Well you had no dress to compliment, so I improvised.’ he chuckled, before shaking his head and growing serious. ‘No Ophelia,’ he spoke in a gentle voice ‘I meant what I said.’. His blue eyes fluttered away from mine as I lifted my attention to him. Michel remained silent, deep in contemplation once more as he cast his attention out over the yard before continuing ‘I see a different sort of honour here and it is a disturbing revelation in itself, I fear. It is something I have being trying to come to terms with since arriving in Skyhold.’

‘How so?’ I asked curiously.

Michel sighed in frustration ‘The honour I see here is so...pure, more true in form than that of what we upheld in Orlais. There are many practices as a chevalier that are... anything but honourable.’. Michel paused, growing deadly quiet before adding softly ‘I guess being away from that life makes me realise that more and more each day.’

If Michel had looked troubled before, he looked downright miserable now. Perhaps the reflection of his former self, what he had considered himself to be compared to what he actually was, had somehow revealed itself since arriving at the Inquisition. A revelation, it appeared, that had filled him with deep regret and remorse.

‘Well it is like you said, this is a second chance.’ I replied lightheartedly, although I was feeling anything but. ‘We all come from different lives, old lives, and for many they have not been pure and honourable, but the Inquisition gives us all a common purpose and I believe that we are living our lives for the better now. Thedas is becoming a better place, and the realm is changing for the better. Our common enemy is a common cause.’

I felt terrible for lying so plainly to the ex-chevalier, considering my real opinions on the subject and my own inner turmoil on some of the decisions we had made. Irrespective of this, my desire to cheer up the Orlesian somehow justified my gallant fabrications. What was the point in filling Michel’s head with all the doubt I carried around on a daily basis? Surely there was no need for such cruelty.

Easing myself up, I shook the bread crumbs from my lap onto the grey stone steps. With a small nod and a smile to my companion, I set off down the stairs and into the courtyard below, a chevalier watching me descend into the plight of the day with ardor in his eyes once more.

****

To my dismay, Cullen’s study was abandoned that evening. The cobblestone walls of the keep enshrouded the room in an eerie darkness, with three lone, three-tiered candelabras struggling to fill the room with light. One large iron candelabra resided on either side of the arrowslit windows, and one nestled in the corner beside a large bookshelf. Cullen loved to peruse over the pages of his collection of written word late into the night, and I wondered what he studied so faithfully in his privacy. What were in these pages that delighted his senses?

Many loose papers lay scattered on his chair and desk, and one in particular caught my attention. It began with Dear Brother, and to my shame I realised I never knew Cullen had a sibling.

‘I heard a curious piece of gossip today.’ remarked an amused voice from behind me.

I spun around to see the Commander standing at the entrance, arms folded and leaning against the arched doorway, a smirk on his lips, obviously entertained that he had caught me red handed reading his private letters.

He walked slowly into the room, the sound of his boots cutting the silence of the room sharply on every step. Cullen held my eyes, demanding my attention in his authoritative demeanour, as he came up to take the letter off me, placing it on the table once more.

‘This looks bad,’ I replied with a sheepish grin ‘I would say I wasn’t reading your letters but it appears that I may have been doing just that. In my defence I came here to find you, but the study was empty...’. I trailed off nervously as Cullen watched me calmly, a smug look ever present on his face. ‘You never told me you had a sister?!’ I added quickly.

‘You never asked.’ remarked Cullen, raising an eyebrow ‘Of course there is not much to tell. I have two sisters and a brother, but I haven’t seen or heard from them for many years. We are not close.’

‘Mia? Is that your sister?’

‘Yes.’ replied Cullen disinterestedly ‘She found out I was here somehow and sent me a letter full of annoying questions.’. He threw me an amused smile ‘You are inquisitive, aren’t you?’. He drew his amber eyes to mine, still smiling with some recently discovered information lingering on his lips.

‘Ok, don’t tell me about your family.’ I muttered ‘What is this curious information you speak of?’

‘I overheard two of my recruits discussing the latest gossip,’ continued Cullen ‘of the Inquisitor and Michel de Chevin sharing an intimate moment together on the battlements.’. Cullen threw me a taunting grin as I rolled my eyes.

‘Are the recruits that desperate for topics of conversation these days?’ I groaned.

Cullen continued to watch at me, his amusement not wavering, refusing to ease the uncomfortable silence with a reply.

‘I stole bread and apples from the kitchen, and bumped into our chevalier on my escape.’ I remarked casually ‘We shared my stolen goods and had a chat. I had no idea it would result in such a scandal amongst our troops. I also spoke to Iron Bull, Krem, Scout Harding, and Pip the stable hand before midday.’. I shook my head, adding in a mocking tone ‘Would you and your recruits like to know about those intrigues as well?’

Cullen refused to let the subject go, nor his mischievous smile, adding in jest ‘Should I be concerned?’

‘About me stealing from Skyhold’s kitchens?’ I remarked ‘Quite possibly yes, I can’t promise you I won’t try it again.’ A laugh escaped from my lips as I drew my attention to the Commander. He was joking to be sure, but I could sense there was an ever so slight hint of jealousy in his comments. An underhanded sting of envy, concealed in a handful of jests and mocking remarks. I couldn’t resist adding teasingly ‘Are you...jealous, Commander?’

‘You would like that wouldn’t you?’ Cullen scoffed ‘However fear not, I do not think for a moment that Michel de Chevin would cross that line. Aside from the fact that he would willingly talk the ear off a stone wall given the chance, he is a chevalier at heart, and knows duty and pleasure do not mix. Chevaliers are extremely disciplined, they go through the some of the most intense training I believe an order can put its members through, both mentally and physically. Michel would know that was a line he could never cross. Me on the other hand...’. Cullen threw me a devious look as he ran his fingers through my hair ‘I enjoy crossing that line time and time again, indulging in the darkest of deeds with my Inquisitor.’

Cullen swept me up in his arms, placing a brief kiss on my lips before biting my bottom lip softly, withdrawing with a devious grin.

‘I’m not a jealous man,’ he smouldered ‘but I would damn any person that tried to come between us.’. He stroked my cheek with the back of his forefinger as he held my gaze ‘Maker knows it, I would not rest until I had cursed their very soul and plagued their life and death with my lament. Any person who dared take you away from me would be sealing their fate, as they surely would have done mine.’

‘Would you defend my honour then?’ I grinned ‘In the name of The Skyhold Tournament?’

‘Hah!’ exclaimed Cullen, his eyes narrowing in scornful delight ‘I knew you were after some display of courtly love in that tournament. Once a lady, always a lady!’

‘I’m no lady.’ I scowled.

‘Of course you’re not, Lady Trevelyan.’ taunted Cullen ‘You’re one step away from coating me in ribbons and lace, and forcing me to read love sonnets to you while I brush your noble hair!’

Unable to stifle a laugh, I pushed his shoulder in playful annoyance. Smiling, Cullen mischievously pulled me into a tighter embrace around my waist so I couldn’t pull away. I ran my hands across his cuirass, admiring the armour as Cullen grinned at me.

‘I could offer you my scarf to tie around your arm, while you fought for me.’ I replied with a smirk.

‘I want you, not your damn scarf.’ mused Cullen wickedly ‘Besides, even if I wished to combat a dozen or so ridiculous nobles and rough peasants, which I assure you I do not, I am not permitted to contend in the tournament.’

‘On whose authority?’ I frowned.

‘The Commander of the Inquisition.’ quipped Cullen ‘Someone needs to be defending Skyhold when we open our gates to every troublemaker in the lands, lest we be entertaining Corypheus as one of the contenders!’

‘So none of Skyhold’s soldiers are participating?’ I remarked.

‘Not exactly, there were nominations.’ informed Cullen ‘A few select soldiers are participating. Michel de Chevin is one of them actually, although he was more of a popular choice rather than a self nomination. There is also a handful of men and women from the ranks, including our very own Knight Commander Rylen.’.

‘Oh.’ I remarked, slightly disappointed.

Cullen’s amusement was growing by the moment ‘Maker’s breath! You were serious? You wanted me to fight in your name! Admit it!’

‘Never!’ I grinned.

Cullen wrapped large his arms around me tighter ‘Don’t you worry, there will be plenty of time to celebrate in between my official duties during the tournament.’. Grinning devilishly, he began running his lips along my neck ‘Perhaps I can lure you into a dark and isolated corner of Skyhold and fuck you with all my honour.’. His amber eyes smiled wickedly as he drew his lips to mine ‘I don’t need the title of Maister of Blades to prove my longsword is worthy enough for the Inquisitor.’

‘It has served me well thus far.’ I observed, producing a chuckle from the Commander.

‘I should hope so.’ purred the Commander, placing a soft kiss on my cheek before drawing his mouth to my ear. ‘I know how busy you will be in a few days time and I intend to take you whenever I can.’ he whispered darkly ‘There is something about all this damn celebration and cheer that is making me want to pervert you in public all the more. I ache for it...’

‘You’ll get your gossip then.’ I smirked ‘Commander Cullen and the Inquisitor. Come to think of it, how have they not talked about us yet?’

‘I value my privacy, and I shall take care to keep it that way.’ growled Cullen ‘There is a reason we don’t share meals together on the battlements in the open of day. As you can see it draws attention, and these men and women are desperate for it.’

I drew my hand through his sandy waves, running my fingers across his brow and feeling the soft skin of his temple and jaw, a shiver growing on my skin as I felt the ex-templar so close to me.

‘There are so many things that could pull us apart, but I am not one of them.’ I whispered ‘You are everything to me.’. I turned away, recalling previous confessions that had long gone undiscussed. ‘You already know that.’ I added darkly.

Cullen’s amber eyes darted towards the arrowslits, a heavy sigh departing from his lips. ‘I have grown to know a lot about the world,’ he muttered ‘a great deal too much most would say. I knew why I remained in the shadows while others lingered in the light. I knew the happiest people that roam this world are the ones that experience the least of it, and in their naivety and childish state of being, this life is full of nothing more than endless possibilities, good deeds and happy encounters. Dreams that have yet to be shattered.’. Cullen shrugged, turning back to me ‘Of course the saddest people are generally the ones that have experienced the unforgiving realities of the world, with that memory ever present in their minds until they live out their days.’. Cullen’s frown softened a little ‘The harsh realities I endured have taught me so much about life, you have no idea Trevelyan, and yet I am ashamed to confess it seems I know little about myself at times. I was so certain there was no redemption from the shadows....’

Cullen’s eyes were full of passion as he held my face with his hands ‘I am yours, in flesh and blood and bone. As black as it is, my heart is yours...’. He drew his lips to my hand, placing a soft kiss on it as he kept his eyes fixated on mine ‘It was something I was unwilling to say in the Undercroft only because I feared of what I felt. But I know what I feel, and I know how I felt when you were away in Emprise du Lion. I know how I feel now, now that you have returned. It is anything but nothing.’

‘Nothing ever is.’ I murmured, my heart pounding at Cullen’s words. Words that melted my defences and fused into my very soul. How could mere words make all that was, now, forgotten?

‘No, I suppose not.’ muttered Cullen, pulling me towards the ladder of the loft, eager to retire for the day.


	8. A Fool's Pursuit is a Fool's Rue

**Chapter Eight: A Fool’s Pursuit Is A Fool’s Rue**

_For love, love who art thou?_   
_ Playing the happy tune of the piper’s song_   
_ When all around doth shine the sun_   
_ I am yours and you mine, we are but one_

_For love, love who art thou?_   
_ Playing the jealous tune of the piper’s song_   
_ To see your smile bestowed on another_   
_ When you, you promised your heart to no other_

_For love, love who art thou?_   
_ Playing the loathed tune of the piper’s song_   
_ My heart has been shattered, my love gone away_   
_ And I am alone at the end of the day_

The first rays of the golden morning sun filtered in through the three arched, double paned stained glass windows that rose high above the back of the main hall of Skyhold. Broken fragments of blue, red, purple and yellow scattered onto the tired stone slabs of the floor, crafting a beautiful pattern of swirls and lines. The chandeliers hanging above were lit, torches mounted to the walls were a blazing, while many candles on ledges were burning brightly, and the fire pits roared with intensity. Despite such a warm and welcoming start to the beginning of a fine mid-spring day, there was not one person in the usually busy hall. Instead the people that filled the room had been replaced with row after row of wooden banquet tables and chairs, awaiting the festivities later on that evening.

Footsteps echoed against the cold stones and into the empty spaces amongst the wooden rafters of Skyhold, with only the heavy flap of raven wings to greet them, as I departed my chambers and entered into the isolated hall, looking around in wonder.

‘Darling that colour on you looks positively simple!’ remarked a voice near the fire pit by the Undercroft door.

Questioning whether that was in fact a compliment or an Orlesian slight, I turned to see Vivienne approaching. The first enchanter was outfitted in a scooped, floor length moon-white gown, her dignified refinement outshining everything else in a murky shadow of clouds.

‘I could have sworn those dreary black clothes that you insisted wearing on a daily basis were stitched into your very skin!’ she added pleasantly.

With a cynical glare, I looked the mage up and down ‘I see the seamstress favoured you. I, on the other hand, look like a fool.’. I peered down to my attire with a grimace, adding ‘A fool with my chest on show for all of Thedas. I can't go out looking like this.’

To my somewhat dismay, the council had agreed that formal attire should be worn for Skyhold Grand Tourney, however it was too little too late to know what that actually meant until I was sprung upon by the keep’s seamstress a few days prior. Presented with a corseted forest green dress worn over a crinoline caged skirt, I was convinced someone was out to punish me or disguise me as some sort of strange shaped shrub. The seamstress informed me the attire was in tune with the latest Ferelden fashions, and the green would make the most of my complexion, eyeing my unruly chestnut hair and pale skin with a pair of disapproving pursed lips.

Sidling up to me, Vivienne interlaced her arm through mine with a charming smile ‘Low cut bodices are all the rage my dear, and besides, one would rather a lovely display of apples than nary a fruit in site. You also may find it to be the most dangerous weapon in all of Thedas, if presented right.’

‘I have my magic for that,’ I muttered darkly ‘and a sharp sword if that fails.’

Vivienne lifted her eyes to the ceiling with an exasperated sigh ‘Dresses are the expected formal attire for a lady on occasions such as this. You are on display to the entire of Thedas, and the people wish to see a magnificent, dare I say mythical, creature that is the Inquisitor. Today may be all about a grand tournament and other such nonsense, but we all know the real reason we are putting on this parade. Political purposes, my dear, always political purposes.’. Vivienne nudged me with her hip ‘Besides we couldn’t have you looking like a vagabond for Ser Michel, could we?’

I cast her a pair of narrowed eyes ‘You’ve been entertaining gossip.’

The first enchanter’s flighty laugh filled the main hall like the call of a bellbird, light and free spirited ‘Oh darling, gossip only serves to entertain me!’

As we reached the main doors of the hall, I noticed the council of the Inquisition standing on either side outside on the stone platform, formally facing the courtyard, awaiting the appearance of the Inquisitor. Cassandra was dressed in her Inquisition plate armour, and Leliana was wearing a smart green tunic over black pants, while Josephine had donned a high collared red and gold damask patterned dress. Cullen was standing tall in his full plate armour with his sandy tresses neatly combed back, rather than the usual dishevelled state it found itself in.

Passing the council members, I threw a side glance towards Cullen. As if we could sense each other’s gaze, and to be honest I never knew how we managed to find each others eyes at the same time, Cullen drew his sight to mine, a deep and intense stare before running his wicked amber eyes up and down my outfit, holding a devious smile that I knew was fueled by thoughts that were anything but pure.

I felt a soft pull of my arm and my Orlesian companion led me to the top of the outdoor stairs of the keep. ‘Cullen is looking scrumptious as ever, wouldn’t you agree my dear?’ whispered Vivienne. It was a loaded question that I wasn’t about to give credence to. I remained silent, but threw her a closed lipped smile.

As we looked down upon the open courtyard, we were met with hundreds upon hundreds of men, women and children from all over Thedas. Our ears were overwhelmed with the sound of merry tunes playing, and a plethora of loud and eager voices talking amongst each other. Bellows and guffaws of laughter sounded across the keep, of hearty conversations and giggles and cries of cheer, of the tune of fiddles playing a reel and dogs barking to the notes of tin whistles being entertained by groups of children. There were many nobles engaged in gossip, eyeing one another dressed in silk and satin, lace and ruffs, sitting on the wooden spectator seats while the peasants gathered around, resting on the dusty ground, on stones of the keep and even in the trees, eager to secure a good viewing spot for the day. There was shouting and cheering, laughing and dancing, frolicking and prancing. A merriment of soul filtered throughout the courtyard along with the morning sun, and as the clear blue sky greeted us above without a cloud to trouble ourselves, we all knew that the Skyhold Grand Tourney would be a day to be remembered.

‘Darling, there he is!’ remarked Vivienne teasingly, who had spotted the ex-chevalier in the far corner near the quartermaster’s, Ser Morris, door. ‘What a magnificent specimen of masculinity looking absolutely stunning in such plain armour! One could only guess he looks even more becoming with nothing on at all, wouldn’t you agree? He has large hands, and you know what they say about that!’

I stopped in my tracks to throw a bewildered look to my companion. ‘How are you a mage and not a scout? You must have the eyes of a hawk! There are over a thousand people down there and you spot Michel de Chevin without a moment’s hesitation.’. Vivienne continued to smirk at me, although I too couldn’t conceal the smirk on my lips or the devious wandering thoughts of our Orlesian agent. ‘If you like him so much Vivienne,’ I added nonchalantly ‘perhaps today will be your lucky day?’

‘Oh my dear you are too sweet!’ oozed the Orlesian ‘However chevalier’s are not to my taste. No matter how delectable they appear, a chevalier is merely an entree. Richly satisfying in small portions, and always secondary to the main meal. Also to steal the favourite of a friend is very unbecoming.’

Descending the stairs to the stone mezzanine platform between the main entrance of the hall and the courtyard below, we were greeted with a cheer as the people applauded the Inquisitor’s arrival. Two heralds stood on either edge of the stone mezzanine floor and blew their long herald trumpets with a regal sounding tune as I stood between them uncertainly, taking a short bow before sitting on the awaiting throne chair on the viewing platform.

‘They do realise I’m not royalty?’ I muttered to myself under my breath, already well tired of the pomp and ceremony that came with the title of Inquisitor.

The crowd settled down as the melodic tune of the trumpets blared again, and this time a short bald man, as wide as he was tall, dressed in an opulent pair of oversized breeches and gold shirt emblazoned with a large Inquisition crescent approached the platform, facing the people below. ‘Good women and men of Thedas,’ he cried out ‘the Inquisition welcomes you all to The Skyhold Grand Tourney!’. The crowd responded with claps, whistles and cheers before settling down once more in eager anticipation. ‘Hear ye now, the Code of Tourney.’ continued the announcer ‘Each competitor is to fight on foot, in armoured combat with one blunted, double handed blade, against one other combatant, the winner being the first to disarm his or her opponent. Let it be known that no spoils of combat are recognised in this tournament and claims to armour or weapons cannot be made by the successor. The successor shall move to the next round to compete against another successor of that round, and so forth unto the next round, until there is only one combatant prevailing. The winner shall present this red rose to the Inquisitor of Skyhold.’

The announcer waited as a young woman came up beside him holding a white velvet tasseled pillow with one long stemmed, deep crimson rose lying upon it. ‘Upon presenting the Inquisitor with this rose, the title of Maister of Blades shall be declared, and they will be known henceforth.’ continued the announcer ‘A purse of monies shall be awarded to the sum of five thousand gold pieces, and a blade of the Inquisition bestowed. Good luck to you all. Let the tournament begin!’

The trumpets sounded again, and the commencement of excited chatter grew thick once more amongst the people. Over the next several hours eager combatant after combatant faced each other in the fighting arena, and surely but slowly the competitors grew less and less. Many a lace hanky coated the fence line, and it appeared every maiden, and even a few lads in between, had come to promise tokens of affection to the brave competitors of the tourney.

I confess I grew somewhat weary of the festivities after the first few hours, being obliged to remain in my chair for appearances sake and watch Pots the Baker duel Dawson the village idiot with a rusty blade, and many copies of their like. There was much name calling and running away between competitors, with more than half a dozen pairs of combatants so drunk they were unable to wield a blade between them if their life depended on it. However by the early afternoon the level of competitors had improved greatly, with the riff raff, as Cullen had referred to them, being finally eliminated.

The crowd eagerly watched Michel de Chevin defeat an extremely talented sellsword from the Anderfels, Krem Aclassi fight a barbarian from the Frostback Mountains that towered over seven feet tall, Knight Commander Rylen go up against an Antivan Merchant Prince coated in gold, and Threnn combat a wild looking Nevarran pirate lord with only one hand. It was around this time that we all begun sitting on the edge of our seats, nails and lips gnawed and bitten, until finally there were only two combatants remaining. The heralds blew their trumpets and the crowd grew deathly quiet as the announcer stepped forward.

‘For the final round of The Skyhold Grand Tourney, I present Michel de Chevin, soldier of the Inquisition, and Ser Perth, knight of Arl Teagan Guerrin of Redcliffe.’ 

Low whispers and murmurs filled the courtyard as a tall and elegant knight in his early forties, clad in the gold armour of his order, with a dragon’s head sigil etched on his breastplate, stood before the crowd. His hair was a deep reddish brown, the same colour of the rich soil Redcliffe boasted, and his locks were long and straight, tied in a low ponytail down his back. Ser Perth held a handsome face, with pale blue-grey eyes and elegant brows, a Ferelden nose that was slightly longer than that of an Antivan or Orlesian, a chiseled jaw and high cheekbones, and a slight unshaven ruggedness on his chin. Standing proud, he faced his equal in grace, Michel de Chevin.

The bright eyed Orlesian stood ready, armoured in full steel platemail as his blonde hair scattered loosely in the cool breeze of the afternoon. His strong and broad neck was encased in a steel gorget, while his torso was covered by a silver cuirasse, the symbol of the Inquisition carved onto his breast. Attached to one shoulder, a magnificent silver spaulder presented itself, etched with ornate swirling patterns of silver and gold, while steel bracers adorned his forearms. His legs were covered in steel cuisses and plate greaves, and simple black ram leather boots adorned his feet. In his hands, Michel held a magnificent double edged silver long sword with strange markings carved into the blade, and on the silver hilt a green metal was entwined, like that of wild vines from the forest. Unlike any Orlesian or Ferelden blade I had ever seen, it was a magnificent weapon in its craftsmanship, and I wondered where Michel had found such a treasure.

Both Michel and Ser Perth faced towards where I and the rest of the Inquisition council were sitting, bowing respectfully before turning to face one another. In tradition of the Grand Tourneys of Thedas, the two opponents were allowed an exchange of words before the combat began; one rule of quite an extensive chivalric code of conduct. A fight was considered to be a common affair and knights facing each other were worthy of formalities, even at the commencement of a mock combat. The exchange of words elevated the combatants from common feuders of the lower classes, to chivalrous competitors. The chivalric codes of conduct had always been somewhat of an odd assortment of perplexities to most who were not a part of the order, however we all knew the two men before us were as knightly as they came and worthy of whatever traditions they chose to uphold. As a consequence, the courtyard held a respectful silence.

Ser Perth held up his steel Ferelden bastard sword, two hands on the hilt, secured tight, to the middle his sternum, and held his gaze with Michel. ‘With pride in my heart, I fight with honour.’ he announced loudly, resulting in a wave of applause from many in the crowd.

Michel de Chevin held his own longsword across his torso, on the left side where his heart lay. ‘Death before dishonour.’ he called out to Ser Perth, a common phrase that the chevalier’s of Orlais used to salute one another before a fight.

Once again, the crowd applauded eagerly. The men stood ready, as the sound of the herald’s trumpets sounded to commence the final round of the tournament.

With swords outstretched, the pair began to move in a circular motion around the fighting area. It was Ser Perth who stepped forward first, lunging at Michel and hitting his blade hard, a loud ringing of steel echoing throughout the yard, before the knight pressed forward five or six steps, clashing steel on steel at every pace. Michel used the final impact of blades to gain momentum off Ser Perth’s sword, spinning around the knight and gaining a side attack of which Ser Perth was not entirely ready for. Gasps sounded as Michel swung at Ser Perth, and landed his blade heavily on the right arm bracer of the Ferelden knight. The force would have rendered any ordinary warrior to drop their sword instantly, however it appeared Ser Perth had a high endurance for such things and held his blade fast despite the pain that would be surging in his forearm and wrist.

With adrenaline pumping and a flash of red hair, Ser Perth swung his blade horizontally across in front, swiping at Michel’s chest, and the ex-chevalier moved swiftly backwards, only to be faced with Ser Perth rushing at him in a series of attacks, hitting his sword again and again. On the final blow the knight refused to leave the steel of his opponent, instead swirling his blade with Michel’s so the pair were circling their swords round and round. It was a disarming tactic, and once in the cycle it was near impossible to hold onto one’s blade for long. Regardless, the ex-chevalier held his sword firm, refusing to drop his sword in the assault.

Ser Perth finally relented and lunged into a flurry of short spars on the attack, pressing Michel further and further back, the agile ex-chevalier dashing aside before colliding with the wooden fence, producing more gasps from the onlookers. Pressing onwards without hesitation, Michel headed back to the center of the fighting arena once more.

The knight refused to let the ex-chevalier gain his breath and came at him aggressively, hitting blades with a loud clash of steel, their blades crossed outstretched, held upwards with one arm each. Coming from underneath, Michel swiftly grabbed Ser Perth’s hand that was holding the hilt, scooping the sword and twisting his wrist so the knight was forced to let go of his blade. Without a moment’s hesitation, the ex-chevalier grabbed Ser Perth’s blade, while still holding onto his own, and with a chiseled smile held up both blades to the crowd as they roared in applause. Cheers rose across the grounds and the trumpets blared. Michel de Chevin had won the Grand Tourney.

Ascending to the entrance of the outside doors of the main hall where the rest of the Inquisition council now stood, I joined in with the crowd in their applause for the fight just won. Michel de Chevin was a brilliant warrior, that much we knew already, however the finesse he displayed with a blade was humbling, and the Orlesian was indeed a master in his bladework.

Ser Perth and Michel warmly clasped hands, a knightly display of defeat and victory, and both exchanged a few pleasantries between one another, united in their honour no matter what the result of the day had rendered. Meanwhile, the announcer of the tournament sailed merrily across the courtyard to the middle of the fighting arena where Michel de Chevin was standing, presenting the rose to him on the white pillow.

Sheathing his sword and with a spring in his step, the ex-chevalier grabbed the rose from the pillow, holding the crimson bud upwards to present to the crowd, who cheered loudly in response, before turning his attention towards where we, the council, were standing. Rose in hand, Michel begun in the direction of the main doors but refused to ascend the stairs. Instead, the dashing ex-chevalier bypassed the stairs altogether and approached the cobbled stoned wall of the keep. A cloud of confusion fell over the crowd as they watched on in slight confusion, which turned into great applause and excitement as they witnessed Michel de Chevin place the long stem of the rose between his teeth and proceed to climb the rock wall up towards the entrance of the main doors.

It was a feat none of us fathomed could even be possible, especially by someone who had just competed in a day of gruelling combat and was donned in full plate armour. Nevertheless Michel scaled the wall, with the sheer determination and will of a knight, placing his hands and feet on the jagged jutting grey stones of the cobbled wall, one by one, pulling himself up until he climbed to the top platform. With the red rose still between his teeth, Michel knelt on one knee, finally removing the stem from his mouth to present to myself, a brilliant smile on his lips as his bright eyes held mine. Only a chevalier would be so theatrical, and to the delight of the onlookers they were more than a little delighted by the feats of Michel de Chevin.

‘If the Inquisitor will permit it,’ called out Michel as he remained kneeling ‘I would ask for the purse of monies to be donated to the people of the Inquisition. But as I offer this rose to our Inquisitor, I would also ask a favour.’

‘Of what favour is that?’ Leliana asked in wake of my confused silence.

Michel held my attention but spoke loudly enough for all the courtyard to hear. ‘I fear I am not worthy of such a token, but dare I be so bold as to ask for one kiss from our lady Inquisitor?’ he asked in reply, rising from his knee with a soft smile, his blond hair shining in the afternoon sun.

Cheering, clapping and whistling grew louder as the ex-chevalier turned his dazzling beam to his adoring crowd. Nary less than a thousand people filled the grounds below and I had no doubt each and every person, from peasant to noble, child to adult, unconditionally adored the ex-chevalier. How one man could manage such a feat was beyond me, but there it was, and done as effortlessly as he had won the tournament and climbed the wall of Skyhold.

Narrowing my eyes with a grin, I presented my outstretched hand, which was met with loud booing and hissing from below. Michel graciously accepted and with strong hands held my palm as delicately as if it were a flighty dove, his large fingers running along mine with an electricity that sent tingles across my skin. Protests of booing, and yelling for a proper kiss sounded even louder below, and the ex-chevalier turned his head towards the crowd, genuinely surprised at the reaction, yet amused at their fervour.

‘I fear we may both have to do better than that.’ observed Michel softly, raising his blue eyes into mine, respectfully and gallant.

The crowd continued to yell out kiss, kiss, kiss, and a few other obscenities that were best forgotten in the moment, as we continued to look at each other in awkward silent anticipation of what, I confess, neither of us knew what. As the chanting grew louder and louder, and before I was able to offer my cheek, the ex-chevalier gently pulled my outstretched hand towards him, drawing me to his chest. Cupping my head in his strong hands, Michel held my gaze fast, and the sea of people below melted away, as silence filled the air. There was nothing, nothing at all, except Michel and I.

As softly as the breeze blowing around us he whispered to me ‘With your permission, my lady?’

Looking at the ex-chevalier, he stood there so graciously. Michel had been cast aside by the order of chevaliers but his honour and respect had remained stronger than that of a thousand knights. Full of valour, he was a true knight of the realm, and I found myself unable to refuse such a proposal.

‘Of course...’ I replied.

His chivalrous face reflected a smile of one who was genuinely happy, as he tenderly drew his head closer, his lips searching for mine, and presented one soft lingering kiss on my mouth. Michel’s scent was warm and masculine, of citrus, clove and cinnamon, and tingled my senses as he drew near. His lips were warm and salty from the sweat of the day, his bottom lip full and large, surprising me with how soft it was as he melted into my mouth, his hands like velvet on my cheeks. The tenderness of his mouth on mine made my insides flutter, his supple lips so gentle. The kiss was brief, but full of passion and even when Michel pulled away it felt like his lips lingered on mine.

Michel may have withdrawn his lips but he didn’t pull away from my gaze, and perhaps he didn’t want to, as he continued to hold my face with his strong hands. Letting out a shaky breath, the sound of the crowd filled my ears once more, and we were transported back into the thick of the tournament, mid stage for all to see. The people below applauded and whistled as Michel pulled away, a bashful smile on his face, his cheeks flushed pink as he drew towards the delighted crowd, that grew louder and louder by the second. Michel turned back to me and bowed once more.

‘Such is the generosity of our Inquisitor.’ he called out loudly so the crowd could hear below ‘I am as always, now and forever, your humble servant.’

Interrupting the moment, and perhaps for the better, Leliana stepped forward with a brilliant steel greatsword lying flat on her outstretched palms, the symbol of the Inquisition etched on the hilt in gold.

‘The Inquisition presents to you, the people of Thedas, Michel de Chevin; The Maister of Blades.’ Leliana called out.

With shaking hands, I reached for the ceremonial longsword and presented it to Michel, who threw me a smile in return as he accepted it from me.

Bowing lowly, Michel rose once more and grasped the hilt strong in his right hand, turning to present the blade to the delighted crowd with an outstretched hand.

The merry tune of crumhorns, dulcimers and lutes commenced and finally, the people began the celebrations of the Mid-Spring Eve. There was, however, one person who refused to place their hands together and take pleasure in the moment. One person who refused to break into smiles and festive cheer for the victor of the day. An ex-templar stood at the entrance of the main hall, eyes deathly cold, as he pressed his unforgiving gaze hard on Michel de Chevin, The Maister of Blades.

****

The calm of evening had brought with it the soft sprinkle of rain, falling lightly as mist on the courtyard as twilight arrived and a deep blue-black sky grew overhead. The main hall and upper level of Skyhold had been converted into a giant feasting room for the night, while the outside of the courtyard and The Herald’s Rest provided drink, food and entertainment for the many guests of the tournament.

A lively band of lutes, pipers, fiddlers and a harpist played merrily in the fighting area, while fire jugglers and jesters on stilts entertained delighted onlookers. Many of the men and women donned brightly coloured masks, the usual attire of the mid-spring festival, dancing happily with each other in circles. While there were many who upheld the ways of the chantry, there were many who still followed the old ways of the land, and it was widely believed that a good crop would be yielded only to those who celebrated the festival of the gods. In large groups, the people danced wildly under the moonlight, the magic of the fairy folk in their steps as they lightly treaded the happy tune of the pipers song that carried along in the wind.

Indeed the courtyard had transformed into a mecca of bustling ethereal energy, and sadly I had been whisked away into the main hall to continue my official duties with the lords and ladies of Thedas that had graced our grand tourney instead of partaking in its splendour. Politics. The only thing that consumed my mind at that moment however was Cullen. I wondered how he would react to what had happened earlier that day, and to my dismay the longer I pondered on it, the lower and lower my heart sank into it’s shameful depths. Surely it was no coincidence that the Commander had been avoiding me since the ceremony? 

As the time dragged on in my regretful state of reflection a moment of opportunity finally presented itself and I managed to escape from the hall. Perching in the shadows at the entrance of the main hall, I scouted the courtyard for any sign of Cullen before I noticed the light in his study burning bright. Without a moment's hesitation I commenced to set across the courtyard, and half way across I spotted the ex-templar on the stairs of the battlement.

To my somewhat amazement and somewhat novel delight, Cullen descended the stairs of the battlements into the main courtyard dressed not in his usual attire. He was adorned in a crisp white shirt under a waist length, black velvet doublet, etched with a silver brocade pattern, and wore black knee length breeches with a vertical striped charcoal panels, and knee high black boots with silver buckles. Cullen entered the courtyard looking more magnificent than any king or lord of the land. His hair was set loose and wild once more, giving him an untamed rugged look, and his unshaven jaw line remained, thankfully unaltered, for the no doubt disapproval of the awaiting nobles of the banquet.

‘Cullen!’ I cried out, weaving my way past the festive folk who spun around the gold tournament tree with coloured ribbons in their hands.

The Commander had stopped for a moment, exchanging a few words with a group of soldiers standing nearby, and I pressed hard on through the thicket of men and women, desperate to reach the ex-templar before he disappeared into a sea of faces. Finally I managed to cross into his path, or stumble into it, but to my dismay Cullen threw me the blackest of looks as I approached. Reaching for his arm, he recoiled furiously.

‘Don’t.’ he warned darkly before passing me with a cold shoulder, leaving me amongst the merriment of the courtyard.

Curse that festive music that taunted my ears, for there was nothing merry in that moment. Angrily I turned my heel and chased after the Commander, who continued walking through into the lower outdoor courtyard. He pressed on hard, determined to depart without me, and I kept on following at a distance, unable to catch up while wearing my confining green garb, narrowly dodging masked folk here and there.

Stumbling through the grey arched cloisters, we finally approached the keep’s rose gardens, full of all the colours of spring; of reds, whites, pinks, purples, yellows and greens. Less people were gathered in this part of the keep, although there were still plenty around to hear me call out to Cullen, and turn their heads curiously.

Not caring who saw me, I lunged for his hand and with a lowered voice I whispered ‘At least let us talk about this?’

The ex-templar frowned, his jaw clenched in displeasure as he cast his attention back to me. ‘Come then.’ he muttered, turning once more and walking further into the depths of the garden, finally finding a place that was quiet enough to exchange words without any wandering ears.

Cullen’s eyes met mine, and they were dark and serious. Indeed they were the kind of eyes that haunt a person until their very last breath; tormented, ardent and overflowing with emotion. Like a wild horse he was untamed and beautiful, his passion raw and unbridled, yet savage and frightening.

‘Please don’t be angry,’ I began ‘it was nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ scoffed Cullen, shaking his head in disgust ‘Nothing.’. Raising a clenched fist, filled with all his aggression and frustration, Cullen slammed his hand into the wooden trellis besides me, shaking petals onto the ground and causing me to startle. ‘Did you enjoy it?’ he asked heatedly 'Did enjoy that little bit of nothing with the Maister of Blades?'

‘I didn’t have a choice.’ I argued defensively ‘I didn’t know Michel de Chevin was going to do that in front of everyone, I don’t even think he did. All he asked for was a kiss on my hand. The damn crowd took over and pushed him into it.’

‘You dare defend him to me? Damn your wickedness!’ growled Cullen ‘I warn you Trevelyan, don’t play me the fool.’

‘This whole tournament was based on securing more support.’ I continued, trying to conceal my frustration ‘I couldn’t flatly reject the champion of the day, regardless of what I wanted to do. What would that have made me look like?’

‘What else would you have let him have done to you in the name of the Inquisition?’ the Commander asked cynically. He kicked the ground in fury, green grass ripped up from under his boots ‘I’m no daft dullard, Trevelyan. I saw the way you kissed him, Maker knows I had the best damn view of it in the keep. Indeed, we all enjoyed that ridiculous spectacle, and saw that it was no innocent peck. Dare I ask what else have you done with him?’

‘How dare you!’ I hissed, furious at the accusation laid at my dust covered feet.

Cullen began to laugh bitterly ‘Oh don’t you dare play the slighted party here. You dance around the question like a common whore dances for coin in a brothel.’

With a scathing look, I turned to leave. ‘I refuse to make this a bigger deal than it is.’ 

Grabbing my arms, Cullen forcefully threw me against the rose trellis, the sharpness of the thorns stabbing into my back as he secured me in front of him. I yelped in pain but the Commander refused to release me.

‘Damn you to the Maker, you will answer me!’ threatened Cullen ‘Do you want to fuck Michel de Chevin, Inquisitor?’

I glowered as Cullen growled at my disdain, holding me tighter. ‘Look at your devilish state and tell me who is the wicked one here!’ I reproached.

With pain and turmoil, passion and fire, I held Cullen’s eyes and he held mine, and our chests rose and fell in a silent chaotic pool of swirling anger. There was nothing to be said until our lips drew passionately together, and our tongues searched aggressive reassurance from each other, as our hands bound our bodies closer together.

Cullen devoured me in kisses, grabbing my hair in angry fistfuls as he drew me heatedly to him, sucking and biting and licking and gnashing his mouth against mine. Roughly he ran his right hand down my dress, grabbing handfuls of material and hitching up the skirts until he reached my undergarments. The Commander proceeded to aggressively push his hand down them, past my waist and further below, his warm hands finding my most intimate parts before tracing to my lips and parting them with his digits.

‘Do you think about Michel touching you like this?’ Cullen growled huskily, rubbing his fingers along my labia in drawn out, teased strokes.

‘Cull-’

‘Do not speak.’ he ordered sharply ‘Look into my eyes and imagine it is him, if that is your devilish will?’

Suddenly he moved his fingers inside me, curling them higher, reaching a pleasurable spot that I wasn’t aware existed myself, leaving me gasping for air.

‘I don’t want him.’ I moaned ‘I want you.’

‘Liar.’ growled Cullen, continuing to stroke me deeply inside, knuckles high and unforgivingly rough, yet pleasurable beyond words. He started to unbuckle his belt with one hand while fucking me with the other, his eyes blazing with lust.

The tightness of the corset and my heavy breathing made me fade in and out, and as I drew my gaze to Cullen I could see his fleshy member between his left hand.

‘Undo this corset, it’s too tight.’ I begged.

Falling to my knees, Cullen spun me around roughly, like a limp rag doll, as I waited for him to loosen the cords that bound me. I could feel him grabbing for the green ropes, but instead of loosening them I felt them being yanked tighter, each lace through each rivet, one by one, being tightened further and further, drawing me in. I gasped as he bound me snug with a series of unforgiving sharp tugs, finishing with a firm knot tied at the bottom of the corset, before spinning me around again.

‘You’ll get no sympathy from me.’ warned Cullen as he climbed over me, positioning himself over my nakedness, all the while ignoring my pleas.

With undivided concentration, the ex-templar suddenly rammed hard up into me with his hot, hard prick. Crying out, the sensation was more intense than I had experienced before, and I fell back onto the soft green grass behind me, lying amongst the scattered rose petals. Deep into my core, I was buzzing from the spot Cullen’s hard cock had just hit. Intense and heady, I drew short, shaky breaths as I felt his throbbing, bulbous head linger at my entrance. With a loud grunt, the Commander pushed in once more and thrust hard a second time, producing a loud scream from my lips. The pleasure was more than I could handle, every nerve and fibre of my being being sparked with delight as they took in every part of Cullen, from the thickness of his warm cock, to his soft skin melting into my depths, and the hardness of his member stroking me deeply in my core.

The veins in Cullen’s neck bulged as small moans evaded his lips, enjoying the sensation of tightening around his shaft, his breathing heavy as he fixated on me below, intensely watching my reaction as he thrust into me even harder than the former, producing another cry from my lips as my head grew lighter and lighter. A deeply warm, vibrating electricity buzzed in my core, starting from my deep within my belly and filling me deeper and deeper as I desperately opened myself up to Cullen’s fury, trying to take every inch of him, to feel every inch of him. I needed more and more, there was nothing else in my mind except needing him in me as deep as he could reach, over and over again.

Concealed amongst the roses, Cullen began to grunt and groan as he unleashed himself on me, his member twitching and trembling to my inner shudders, resulting in more moaning from the ex-templar. Restricted in breathing from the binds, every breath I drew came from my belly rather than my chest, and heightened my response to Cullen’s fucking. It was more than either of us could handle, and I could see how hard Cullen was trying not to release himself into me.

A more furious creature I had never beheld, his eyes wild as Cullen began sating himself.

‘Yes’ the ex-templar murmured hotly as he unleashed all his stamina on me ‘...yes ride it, go with it.’. Supporting his weight on his strong, muscular arms, he lunged harder and harder, drawing his lips to my neck. ‘Let me fill you...surrender yourself.’ he growled ‘Take me in and consume me. Yes, by the Make-!’

With head spinning euphoric bliss, I began to tighten and I knew Cullen could sense I was about to tip over the edge. He drew his hands hard across my mouth as I let out a blood curling scream, before releasing himself deep inside me with a roar of his own. His member spurted a few more times, his seed filling me with a warm satisfaction I had grown to fiendishly crave.

Cullen had always carried a smirk on his scarred lip, but the smirk he held on his lips as he drew his hand from my lips was the largest that I had ever witnessed. He looked totally and utterly spent, heavy breathing and sandy hair falling messily across his brow as he remained deep inside.

‘Maker’s breath.’ he groaned, finally withdrawing and pulling me up off the ground, reaching around quickly to undo the ties, loosening them as I remained somewhat breathless. ‘Deep breaths now Trevelyan, slow and deep, that’s it. Good girl.’ he murmured, stroking my neck and chest as I regained myself.

Gasping for breath, my head was scrambling for words. ‘I’ve never.....never felt...’

Cullen drew his thumb to his lip, his pink tongue peeking from behind, as he held a wickedly devious smile ‘...that good?’. He rubbed his neck, keeping his eyes on me. ‘Andraste preserve me, fucking you in a corset was better than I anticipated’ growled Cullen, as he placed soft kisses on my cheek ‘Next time perhaps no damn ridiculous skirt with more fabric than I care to contend with.’

I threw him a small chuckle before growing serious, once again reminded of our previous discussions. It appeared for a moment Cullen had forgotten also, only to be awakened once more.

‘I know.’ replied Cullen, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. He ran his hand through his hair, struggling to find the words until he abandoned them altogether and began to adjust his breeches and doublet, with pulls and tucks back to its formal state.

‘I’m sorry it happened, Cullen’ I murmured.

‘So am I.’ he muttered. With a frown, Cullen drew his attention back to me, still sitting with loosened ties among the rose bushes. ‘You said it yourself Trevelyan.’ he remarked plainly, perhaps a little sadly although it was dark and his mood always reflected the shadows ‘Nothing is always something.’

‘No.’ I frowned ‘This was nothing. Damn the rumours that have tainted your mind Cullen, Michel means nothing to me, surely you know that?’

His eyes looked up at the stars, a serenity covering his face as he stood beneath their grace. ‘I cannot know you how to feel.’ he murmured ‘You are the keeper of your secrets, something I will never be privy to.’. Cullen let out a cynical laugh as he kept his sight on the heavens, whispering half to himself ‘Of hideous demons that we fear from the murky depths of our imagination, we forget the cruelest of creatures oft hold pretty faces, with damnable intentions, stealing what small light we hold within and replacing it with handfuls of darkness.’

'No.' I replied adamantly 'You're wrong.'

Cullen turned his amber eyes, a swirling pool of melting honey and sap. ‘I offered you my heart and I cannot take it back now whether I wished to or not.’ he remarked darkly ‘If you choose another...if Michel de Chevin has your affections, even in the slightest, then we cannot be. I would rather damn myself, and you for that matter, then share you with another, Perhaps my envy will be my demise, but it can be no other way. Whatever you choose, know this. I will not take my heart back. It is yours, to my ruin, it will always be….yours.’. With a look of daggers, he added ‘Yet do not think I will dwell in my misery. You may be keeper of my ruined heart, but it never served me well when I was it’s owner. I hope it curses you as much as it has me.’

With a sharp turn, Cullen melted into the darkness of the night, leaving me alone in a maze of roses, wondering how nothing had all of a sudden become something that could destroy everything?

My heart grew heavy that evening. I knew what had happened at the tournament would have displeased Cullen, but I could never have fathomed to the extent it had procured. My love was strong for the ex-templar, if not to a shameful obsession, and there had only ever been Cullen. So I couldn’t understand why Michel stirred these small, insignificant feelings. Mere trifles that made me feel terribly ashamed, and I was ashamed, because I knew if I further pursued these feelings, entertained those thoughts, I would be throwing my happiness away. It was a foolish thing to do and yet, as often others have learnt, a fool's pursuit is a fool's rue.

In truth, I felt myself falling back into that pool of despair, knowing I deserved neither of them. They played the merry tune to my heart and it was a sweet melody. Maker forgive me, or better damn me here and now, for what mere mortal could turn a deaf ear on such a sweet tune?

****

Determined paces echoed throughout the cloisters, somewhat lighter than the owner’s usual stern step. Even in all her seriousness, there was something about an evening of merriment, song and banqueting that made Leliana feel light-hearted and happy. Passing the blazed torches on the wall, one by one, she finally reached the wooden door painted red with patterns of gold and blue, a traditional Antivan design.

Knocking three times, the spymaster waited, only to be greeted with silence. With a frown, Leliana knocked louder, yet still no answer presented itself, prompting her to try to turn the handle. It was unlocked and Leliana entered into a dark room with only the light from the moon outside shining in. A figure sat by the window, catatonic and as silent as the grave.

‘Josie?’ remarked Leliana hesitantly ‘What are you doing here in the dark?’

Josephine remained quiet as her friend approached, taking a place behind her as the Antivan continued to look blankly out into the void of the Frostback Mountains.

‘I detest her, Leliana.’ murmured Josephine.

The spymaster raised an eyebrow in interest ‘Who Josie? Who do you detest?’

A pause followed, before Josephine replied darkly ‘The Inquisitor.’

‘Ophelia Trevelyan?’ remarked Leliana in more than a bit of surprise ‘Why?’

The ambassador frowned, continuing to hold her undivided attention to the darkness outside ‘She has him.’

‘Him?’ queried Leliana ‘Who Josie? Ser Michel de Chevin?’

‘No, Cullen.’ hissed Josephine ‘I saw them. In the corridor.’

‘The corridor?’

‘Yes. A few weeks back.’ replied Josephine sharply

‘You saw them….in a corridor?’ remarked Leliana, somewhat still confused as to her friend’s meaning.

‘Kissing.’ Josephine added bitterly.

Leliana raised her eyes in surprise ‘You fancy...the Commander? For how long? You kept it hidden well, not even I suspected anything.’

‘Did you see her at the Grand Tourney today?’ grimaced Josephine ‘Poor Cullen. What an insult. He deserves so much better. If it were me-’. She hesitated before growing silent.

‘What?’ smirked Leliana ‘You wouldn’t have accepted the rose from Ser Michel?’

‘That kiss was unforgivable. Cullen deserves better than...that.’ scorned Josephine.

‘Oh Josie,’ sighed Leliana ‘you are so innocent in love. Cullen is not all sweetness and chivalry. You deserve someone like that, someone like Michel de Chevin.’

‘Ser Michel is a disgraced Orlesian noble.’ scorned Josephine.

‘Cullen isn’t a noble at all.’ quipped Leliana ‘Your family would never approve.’

‘I know,’ muttered Josephine ‘but I don’t care. All I care-’ 

‘Josie stop.’ interrupted Leliana hastily, if not a little firmly ‘You know Cullen fancies the Inquisitor. Why continue to torture yourself for someone who does not hold you in his affections?’

‘If he was with someone worthy I would stop.’ replied Josephine indignantly ‘All I have are my eyes to inform me, and the actions of others to guide me. Any woman who truly cared for him would not have accepted that kiss from Michel de Chevin. Cullen deserves better.’

‘And you think you are that person?’ mused Leliana ‘Has Cullen said something to you?’

‘No...we never speak.’ murmured Josephine. She shook her head, turning to her friend ‘When the Inquisitor was away in Emprise du Lion we spoke once, for a while. Cullen looked so dismal, and I stayed awhile hoping to cheer him up. Oh Leliana we only spoke of general matters, day to day life at Skyhold compared to our former homes. It was nothing really, oh but it was something to me.’

‘Hush’ replied Leliana ‘Trust me, this will only end badly for you. Poor dear Josie, you must not think this way for a moment longer.’

‘I can’t help thinking maybe there would be a chance, maybe a small one, if the Inquisitor were not with Cullen. If he could see the harlot she is, maybe...’

Leliana shook her head sadly ‘Josie, no. All the Inquisitor did was accept a kiss, that I’m sure was more for display than real feelings. Michel de Chevin is no fool, he knows we desperately need the people of Thedas to be talking about the Inquisition. He merely gave them something to talk about. Ophelia is with Cullen, and from what I have gathered she has been for a while now. And consider this, why would she kiss someone she fancies so openly in front of all of Thedas? If it were a secret they would not display their affections for all the grand tourney to bear witness. No, it was all for show, nothing more.’

Josephine’s face changed suddenly, and she turned to her friend once more ‘Perhaps you are right. I shall not think on it any longer. Yes, I promise Leliana, I will put Cullen out of my mind. Forget we ever spoke of this, I am ashamed to even think about now.’

Leliana smiled softly to her friend ‘Come now, the banquet starts in an hour and you are not even dressed! I’m sure once you have a glass of vintage Lake Calenhad Estate in your hand and a lovely noble by your side at the feasting table, you will be none the worse for it.’

The spymaster nudged Josephine playfully before leaving the room once more, leaving Josephine to her company once more.

‘Fear not, Cullen.’ murmured Josephine, returning her attention to the darkness of night ‘I’ll make you see the true nature of your sweetheart yet, and when I do you will rue the day you met Ophelia Trevelyan....’ 


	9. Anywhere but Here

**Chapter Nine: Anywhere But Here**

The fragrant scent of Elder tree blossoms lingered on the breeze and enticed our senses as the weeks moved on after the Mid-Spring Festival and the Skyhold Grand Tourney. Twenty five days to be precise. Twenty five days since Skyhold had opened it’s gates to Thedas and presented to the realm all that was the Inquisition. I confess I was not entirely sure what that was, but when passing people in the halls they whispered of the magnificence of the Inquisition in it’s righteous pursuit of cleansing the evil of the realm. Such sweeping grand statements were flattering indeed, but left me somewhat uneasy as I walked by, wondering what magnanimous expectations were attached to such opinions, and whether we could truly live up to them?

The aftermath of the tourney had been significant to say the least, and the support overwhelming. Sovereigns began to flow into our coffers from all over the countryside, while offers of land were graciously bestowed, possibly in the hope that the Inquisition’s influence would protect the manors and estates scattered throughout the realm. A favour for a favour, and more obligations were secured for better or for worse. Many a skilled warrior, talented mage and learned scholar made pilgrimages from all over to join the Inquisition, offering up their skills for the benefit of our plight. Finding ourselves in a position none of us dared dream of, with more resources and numbers at our fingertips than we could have ever hoped for, we knew the events of the last month had not been in vain.

Twenty five days. It had also been that long since I had exchanged words with Cullen, our last conversation being a few heated moments in a flourishing rose garden. For all his anger and passion, his silence was the worst side of him. I had been exposed to this part of Cullen before, a cold and aloof persona, an emotionally detached person devoid of any real feeling or sentiment towards me. His eyes never met mine, briefly skimming over my person, his indifference suffocating and causing me to turn my heel in an instant. Even in his most darkest of moments, it was nothing to what I endured from him now. With no council meetings arranged whilst we were all busy entertaining the guests of Skyhold, Cullen was not obliged to exchange one word with me, and he took that opportunity with great aplomb. If I existed, he did not acknowledge it, and I ceased to be all together. It made me miserable beyond words, a sadness that leaves one cold and empty with a shiver across one’s skin and a heavy pit in one’s stomach. Questioning my own self worth, I resided to the fact that I was not only hated by Cullen, but by the entire Inquisition. A Serpent card in a game of Wicked Grace, a lowly pawn in a game of chess. All that I was, all that I ever could be, was an insignificant piece in a game too large for me to contend in, let alone win.

Unable to digest the steady stream of rumours about the Inquisitor and our ex-chevalier, I had made it my top priority to avoid each and every person. Perhaps it was an irrational goal, considering I was the Inquisitor and lived in a bustling keep full of hundreds of people, but I diligently kept to my room most days, busying myself in the study of arcane tomes that had never caught my interest in the past, and happily signing as many documents as were delivered to my door. Every morning I awoke hoping to be notified that I was required to venture into Crestwood or the Hinterlands, secretly wishing a lair of troublesome Darkspawn, or even Red Templars, had been discovered and I was required to drive them out. To my dismay, however, I was told that my presence at the keep was essential while we had visitors. Visitors that were happy to overstay their welcome for many a tedious week, armed with ceaseless chatter, wiggling eyebrows, flamboyant limbs, and tiresome questions. A sea of nameless faces consumed my every waking moment and the charade dragged out for weeks, and weeks, until finally, on the twenty fifth day since we had opened our gates, the last noble departed the gates of Skyhold.

Resting my head against the moss covered stone wall of the keep, I let out a heavy sigh. I had made it my duty to find the most secluded part of Skyhold to escape to, whenever the confines of my room became too much to bear. A small arrow tower in the east corner of the stronghold became my abandoned abode, a prison of sorts that I felt I deserved, scattered with broken glass and split rotting wooden chairs and tables, cobwebs and dust, graciously left by the previous occupants of the keep. Small splits of light filtered through the arrow slits in the walls, and it was there, amongst the squalor that I sat on the dirt covered stone floor with one lone candle burning, and played out the obsessive thoughts in my mind, with the shadows to keep me company and the silence to amplify my fears.

‘Mind clouded, cold and awake, sweat beading and hands shaking, a dagger in one’s heart.’ whispered a small voice in the bleak room ‘The heaviness drags until there is no will to fight anymore. Sadness, despair, loneliness, helplessness. Soaring through the air, flying higher than ever before, only to be dashed upon the rocks the next. He wants to be away from here, but he knows that his duty is to protect the people. So he stays, trying to think of a way to leave, and all the while you are also trying to think of a way to leave. Even in your desire to escape, neither of you can see that you desire the same thing. Running away will not take you further from the pain, distance doesn’t heal pain. People always think that it will, but it never does…’ 

‘Cole.’ I muttered, casting my eyes around the dimly lit room, searching for the spirit until I recognised his shape sitting on a broken cupboard in the far corner of the room. With hunched over shoulders, and a miserable expression, his hair spilling loosely across his face, Cole looked even more disheartened than even I was at present.

‘Twenty five days,’ continued Cole darkly ‘twenty five days since your thoughts, and his thoughts, have plagued me night and day. I cannot walk the battlements for he fills my head with such torment, and you are in the keep and fill the rooms with thoughts that make me want to cry. Of demons and mages and death, and chasing the coat tails of a man who cannot be caught. Scattered hopes and shattered dreams, the purest of intentions now transformed into the darkest of actions. The heart is a powerful weapon that can heal old wounds….or cause new wounds that never heal.’

‘It was one damnable kiss!’ I barked into the silence. Fists clenched and trembling, I shook my hands willing the anger away.

‘That is not of what I speak’ murmured Cole sadly.

Miserably I looked back to the lone flame before me. ‘I’m sorry Cole,’ I replied woefully ‘I would never wish you to feel what I’m feeling these days.’

‘Tired...so tired.’ whispered Cole ‘You dream. Why do you dream so much? You chase him in your dreams, trying to get him to notice you, but he always turns his foot before you reach him. You wish he will talk to you. Look at you. Want you. But he never does, and you spend those sleeping hours being ignored, only to wake up and realise it is also your reality. How can dreams be so real? How can dreams be so sad?’

‘I don’t know Cole, they just are’ I replied, biting my lip to hold back the tears that his accurate words had revealed. Hating the spirit knowing my every dark thought, I wished he would go away, only to look up and notice...he was gone.

A sharp collection of small steps sounded, ascending the stairs towards the tower, and caught my attention. I lifted my head wearily to see a ginger haired spymaster appearing at the doorway.

‘Leliana.’ I remarked.

She flickered her eyes curiously around the empty room before drawing them finally back to me ‘Inquisitor-’

‘Everything is fine’ I interrupted sharply, anticipating the question ‘I came here to be alone.’

A smile curled on her lips as she took a few cautious steps into the room, navigating between broken bottles and ripped, soggy parchments from books ‘Not missing the company of half of Thedas?’

Rubbing my eyes wearily, I shook my head ‘Not one bit.’

‘I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the Inquisitor cannot afford the luxury of hiding away from the world.’ Leliana informed, resting against the edge of a broken table ‘Your absence is starting to be noticed.’

I threw my council member a frown ‘You refuse to send me out into the realm to actually do any good, I have been trapped here for weeks. What do expect me to do? Dance in the courtyard for my supper?’

‘Would you?’ smirked Leliana, before adding ‘I was going to suggest you merely come out of hiding, but a dancing Inquisitor seems more fun for all of us, no?’. The spymaster let out a little giggle before noticing my half serious face. ‘I shall get the point then.’ she added in a more serious tone ‘I need you to set off to a town near Jader, tomorrow at dawn.’

Flashing my eyes to hers, my demeanor sparked up without a moment's hesitation. ‘Of course!’ I blurted out a little too enthusiastically ‘What’s in Jader that needs to be done?’

‘Jader is a port town on the coast of The Waking Sea, directly north from the Frostback Mountains. It is the main port of call that our Inquisition supply ships arrive at and depart from. Food, supplies, materials, weapons, armour, you name it, we bring it in through this route. The goods are then taken via land through the merchant paths up to the Frostback Mountains and into Skyhold.’

‘Has something happened in Jader?’ I asked.

‘It’s actually a coastal town slightly to the east of Jader that has come to our attention.’ replied Leliana ‘The village of Shrimstoke, that resides in a rather rocky and perilous part of the coastline, and has been causing somewhat of a problem for the ships that pass it’s way.’

‘What could a bunch of villagers be doing that affects us so?’

‘Most coastal villages have lighthouses or beacons to guide the ships through the perilous parts of the The Waking Sea shoreline.’ explained Leliana ‘Shrimstoke, however, has never been one of those coastal villages. In fact they refuse to aid the ships. Our boats have relied on the kindness of a hermit that lives in the upper cliffs of Shrimstoke, providing a large fire at night from his abode to guide the ships. However the villagers have become somewhat displeased at his endeavours over the years. The number of shipwrecks have diminished significantly and the people of Shrimstoke have been left without the spoils of their treacherous coastline.’

‘What?’ I scoffed ‘You mean they actually want the ships to wreck?’

‘Indeed.’ replied the spymaster ‘There are many valuable goods on the ships that sail from the Amaranthine Ocean through into the Waking Sea. One fully loaded carrack would allow enough goods for the fellow villagers of Shrimstoke to survive the better part of the year.’

‘What about the people on board, or the owners of the cargo?’ I scorned ‘Surely they would not reside to the villagers being the owners of their cargo if the ship goes down?’

Leliana raised an eyebrow ‘You’re not familiar with the rights of salvage, I take it? Any ship that is at peril at sea, and its cargo, is allowed to be salvaged by any other person. The salvager is entitled to the monetary value of the cargo salvaged, or if that is not awarded by the ship, then the cargo itself.’

‘That sounds unfair.’ I remarked.

Leliana shrugged ‘Such is life, no? Regardless, we have received word from the hermit in question begging for protection. He fears for his safety after a number of failed attempts on his life in the last year. We cannot afford to lose our ships, crew and cargo to the village of Shrimstoke, therefore I need you to go and address the matter.’

‘Do you think they’ll listen to me?’ I asked doubtfully.

‘I’m sending Cullen with you.’ Leliana added ‘I believe a stern word from the Commander of the Inquisition will set them straight, that along with half a dozen soldiers in tow. However it doesn’t hurt to send you as well, so the people can see how serious the matter is.’

‘Irrespective,’ I continued ‘if this is their livelihood we’re talking about, I doubt a stern word from anyone will set them straight.’

‘You would be surprised at what people would be prepared to do when they feel unprotected and vulnerable in such dangerous times.’ replied the assassin.

‘Is Corypheus planning to do a spot of sailing to Shrimstoke in the near future?’ I mused with a grin.

‘Stranger things have happened,’ smirked Leliana ‘but no, I don’t believe so. Of course the people of Shrimstoke need not know how far or close to real danger they actually are. All they really need to know is they will be defenceless and ruined if they do not have the support and protection of the Inquisition.’

I shrugged, still unconvinced but not wanting to forego a trip with the Commander. ‘Of course’ I replied pleasantly ‘I shall prepare for the journey straight away.’

Easing myself up from the floor, I noticed Leliana lingering at the doorway. ‘Michel de Chevin is supposed to be arriving back in Skyhold in a day or two.’ she added, looking at me carefully for a reaction.

‘I didn’t know he was gone from Skyhold’ I remarked in honest surprise. My isolation had left me in the dark on a number of matters, and of this one, I confess, I was grateful to be none the wiser.

The spymaster’s lip curled ‘I just thought you would like to know.’

‘Not you as well’ I exasperated ‘No, I assure you it doesn’t concern me even in the slightest.’

‘Of course.’ replied Leliana, standing erect once more ‘I shall take up no more of your time. Safe journey, Inquisitor.’. With a brief nod, Leliana departed the room as fast as she had come, a frown on her face as her mind filled with thoughts she had no time to contend with.

****

‘So let me get this straight.’ exclaimed Varric ‘There’s a man who lives in a seaside cave by the shore of Shrimstoke, and he spends all his time trying to direct ships away from the rocks, but the local villagers are angry because they are losing their main source of income. From pillaging the wreckages of ships! So they want to kill this man?!’. The dwarf chuckled as he stoked the fire, the plumes of grey smoke shrouding his shoulders in the dark of night ‘You know that’s gotta be true because it sounds completely unbelievable.’

‘A good deed, Varric, is not necessarily the most popular one, or the most economical.’ replied Cullen, resting his back comfortably against the trunk of a large oak tree near the campfire ‘You’ll soon find the coastline of The Waking Sea to be a barren, wind swept place peppered with dry shrubs and coarse thicket, where crops do not grow because the soil is too salty and animals cannot be reared because there is no grass to feed them. The survival of the people of Shrimstoke depends on the ruin of the ships that steer its course into the rocks of their shoreline.’

The rogue shook his head ‘Well I’d wager it’s time for the fine people of Shrimstoke to move on to greener pastures.’

‘Bloody land pirates, aren’t they?’ muttered Blackwall in disapproval ‘What happens if they refuse to let alone this man? What was his name again?’

‘They call him the Star of the Southern Shore.’ replied Cullen ‘Well, the sailors do. I’m sure the villagers just refer to him as bastard, or dotard, or something of the like.’

The dwarf chuckled in amusement. ‘No way did I just hear the Commander of the Inquisition just make a joke!’ remarked Varric with glee ‘This journey has more promise than the house ale at The Pearl.’

‘Yet less than the house whiskey at The Hanged Man.’ added Cullen with a smirk.

‘Why Curly,’ exclaimed Varric clutching his chest dramatically ‘don’t tell me you actually drank at my dear home in Kirkwall?!’

‘To my everlasting regret and shame.’ replied the ex-templar dryly ‘I remember venturing in there when I first came to the city. A few of my fellow templars and myself made the unfortunate decision to try a few dozen drams of The Hanged House Whiskey. I woke up a day later in Darktown with a dragon of a hangover thumping in my head, and a pile of rats for my bed.’

Varric’s laughter echoed into the night, lighthearted and free, a faint memory of his old self coming through. ‘Ha ha ha! I’ve seen an entire crew board the wrong ship and try to sail into the wharf after drinking that fine drop all night!’

The ex-templar chuckled, the shadows and the light from the flames dancing across his face. Cullen looked at ease this particular evening and it was apparent the Commander found more pleasure being out in the wild, with the rich soil under his feet, the evening breeze on his skin and the clear night sky overhead. Grabbing a piece of wood lying nearby, he tossed it onto the flames, sending orange sparks flying before the light engulfed the timber in molten licks. ‘Well, I learnt enough that night never to go back, not even for the pig oat mash.’ remarked the ex-templar.

‘You see that’s where you went wrong!’ chimed Varric ‘The pig oat mash is notorious as a hangover cure. Why, drinking at The Hanged Man and eating a bowl of the stuff go hand in hand. Ah, you templars never learn.’

‘Hah!’ scoffed Cullen ‘We templars learnt that there was a time when the mixed meat stew at The Hanged Man was more human than animal.’

‘Do they eat humans in Kirkwall?’ queried Cole innocently, sitting above Cullen on an overhanging branch.

Cullen nodded ‘Apparently so, although I suspect our long term Dwarven tavern resident here wasn’t aware of it. There used to be a cook at The Hanged Man, went by the name of Denny Dawson, more infamously known as The Butcher of Lowtown?’

‘The Butcher of Lowtown?’ remarked Blackwall, sitting up in interest from the overturned tree trunk that lay before the fire ‘It sounds like he wasn’t your typical butcher.’

‘Unfortunately no.’ muttered Cullen ‘When I started working in Kirkwall we were faced with a task of investigating the disappearance of some of the mages from the Circle. It coincided with the disappearance of a handful of residents from Lowtown. The Kirkwall City Guard and the Templars set out to investigate it, although neither of us could locate any of the missing parties. At first we thought they had simply run away, it’s not uncommon for mages to escape, or for people to leave their partners or family, especially in the poorer areas of the city where hardship is thrust upon the people more than they care for it. The Templars and the City Guard were ready the dismiss the case in it’s entirety, turning up no promising leads as we could not find one body. Not one. It was around that time, however, that the owner of The Hanged Man notified the City Guard of something strange that had come to his attention. He was becoming suspicious of the tavern’s cook, Denny Dawson, after he realised Denny had been cooking meat every night but the owner hadn’t paid for any meat on the stock orders in over three months.’

A few of the soldiers looked at each other in confusion, although Varric and Blackwall looked at each other nervously, knowing exactly where the story was going.

‘Meat, as you know, is not an item that comes cheap, especially in Kirkwall.’ continued Cullen ‘It turned out Denny Dawson had a perverse little hobby of abducting and murdering his victims, and putting them into the mixed meat stew of the day at The Hanged Man. A different meat each day of the week.’

‘‘I’m going to be sick.’ muttered Varric, looking mortified ‘I’d wager I ate that stew nearly every night of the week.’

‘Did they taste like chicken?’ asked Cole to Varric ‘I heard people taste like chicken.’

Cullen burst into laughter at the look of the dwarf’s face, and even Blackwall couldn’t keep a straight face. A few of the soldiers gathered round broke into hysterics as Varric remained gobsmacked.

‘And that, Varric, is the reason you never saw me down at The Hanged Man.’ informed Cullen, a wicked smile on his lips.

‘And on that note, I’m going to sleep.’ grimaced Varric, clutching his stomach as if he had just eaten a bowl of the corrupted stew.

‘I think I’ll retire as well’ remarked Blackwall with a chuckle, rising from the ground and heading towards his tent.

Cullen nodded, pointing to his soldiers ‘You’d best do the same, we set off early tomorrow and I want everyone to be their sharpest.’

The men and women shuffled away on the order from their Commander, silence finally ascending upon the campsite as Cullen was left alone staring into the flames, the smile on his lips slowly fading until it was serious once more. The orange of the fire made his amber eyes radiate, his features softened by the warm glow, his bare hands outstretched to feel the raw heat on his skin.

‘You’ve been awfully quiet since we left.’ he murmured, looking past the flames, over to where I was sitting in the shadows near a large Black Walnut tree, a distance from the fire, concealed in the darkness ‘I don’t think you’ve said one word this evening.’

‘I didn’t have much to add to the conversation.’ I muttered, my heart beating nervously knowing that Cullen was finally talking to me again. I half expected the Commander to ignore me throughout the trip.

The Commander rubbed his neck and moved his shoulders stiffly, looking across the flames towards me ‘You must be freezing.’ he remarked ‘Come, sit closer by the fire.’

‘I’m fine here.’ I replied darkly. Twenty six days of silence from Cullen had turned my regret into anger, and while in my weaker moments I dearly missed the ex-templar, in my stronger moments I detested his cruelty towards me.

Pulling off the black woollen cloak surrounding his shoulders, Cullen unclasped the silver buckle at his neck and arose from his spot by the oak tree, approaching me slowly. Stopping at my side, he crouched down to drape the material across my shoulders.

‘I won’t be responsible for your sickness if the cold reaches your bones tonight.’ he murmured, wrapping the cloak tight and buckling the clasp once more. His fingers lingered across my upper arm for a moment more than was necessary, and I turned to catch his deep eyes staring into mine. ‘Please, let us sit closer to the fire.’ he added in a lower voice, well aware our companions were in tents close by.

The Commander reached out his hand gently and pulled me up to him, our bodies face to face, his head tilted down to mine looking up at him as he held my fingers, a moment of electricity building up between us. It was an energy that surged whenever we were near, and awoke every nerve and fibre of my being. Maintaining the grip on my hand, Cullen led me closer to the fire, directing me to where Blackwall had previously been sitting on a tired log near the embers. The soft hum of crickets filled the silence as we sat side by side, staring intently into the flames with more concentration than was warranted.

‘I thought you incapable of talking to me’ I observed bitterly, throwing some loose leaves scattered on the dirt into the fire. I could hear Cullen sighing heavily at my comment, stirring impatiently next to me, possibly agitated at the bluntness of my manner.

‘I was merely giving you the space to make a choice.’ muttered Cullen after a few moments of silence ‘Clarity to follow your own path without interference or influence from myself.’

‘My path has been chosen for some time,’ I replied sharply ‘and it has been isolated and dark thanks to you.’

‘I am sorry to hear it.’ he muttered.

‘I haven’t spoken one word to him,’ I continued angrily ‘considering it was never an issue in the first place, why would I? Michel has never tried to meet me in secret. Maker knows we never talk in private, and we knew that kiss was only for display, and there it has remained. Indeed, Leliana mentioned to me just yesterday that Michel de Chevin was not even in Skyhold at present, and I hadn’t the faintest idea of it!’

‘I know that now.’ Cullen replied with a frown, waving his hand in dismissal as if to stop my continual assault of words. He raised a cynical brow, tilting his head to mine ‘You can hardly blame me for questioning your intentions?’

It was my turn to return the frown and I did it rather well, and Cullen held my expression intensely. ‘Your silence towards me cuts me like a thousand blades.’ I scowled ‘You may find it easier to dismiss me for weeks at a time, but I confess it takes a little part of my spirit each time you do. You have no idea how your actions affect me Cullen.’

Cullen drew his eyes shut, as if pained by my confession ‘Trevelyan, please.’

‘It’s true.’ I replied, almost ranting ‘I spend all my time sitting in the abandoned parts of the keep drowning in my thoughts. And for what? For the actions of Michel de Chevin? I shouldn’t have kissed him, I know that, but your coldness towards me was unwarranted. Why do you have to be so hurtful?’

Cullen sighed ‘I am only human, Trevelyan.’. Reaching his large hand, he reached out to grasp mine, pulling my palm to his lips and placing one deep kiss on it, holding my gaze as his mouth lingered on my skin. ‘After my time in Kirkwall,’ he remarked ‘I’ve finally had the benefit of being able to put some time between me and the events I have experienced.’. He added with a bitter laugh ‘You’d think it would have done me some good, but I fear after everything that has happened it is hard for me to return to a normal life. I’ve forgotten what it is to live...just live. To be human once more...’

‘I can’t imagine what that would have been like.’ I replied, almost immediately regretting my heated accusations, no matter how warranted they may have been ‘I’m so sorry for what you went through.’

‘Thank you.’ murmured Cullen, drawing his gaze back into the flames.

With a squeeze of his hand I added with a soft smile ‘But you survived….’

The ex-templar shrugged, his face half cast in shadow, half in light ‘I was tortured Trevelyan, tortured for so long in that tower that I knew I was never going to survive. After all that pain, all that fear, dragging myself on the cold stones screaming for the Maker to take me, finally I knew I was going to die. I made peace with that fact, I welcomed it, for I knew that I didn’t want to live after what I had been put through and what I had witnessed.’. The ex-templar shuddered, suddenly drawing his hand away from mine and pressing his fist in the palm of his other hand ‘The demons made me watch as they flayed my fellow templars alive. Six in total, stripped of their skin and screaming in curdled pleas of terror and despair while it happened. I can never erase the sound from my mind. And there was nothing I could do....’

‘Cullen,’ I replied gently, although my heart was pounding in fear, grabbing his arm in reassurance, trying to hold his hand once more ‘you’re not alone anymore. I want to help you through this.’

He shook his head sadly ‘Trust me, there is no getting through something like that. I’ve changed and I accept that. After being tortured for so long, I was ready for death. I was prepared for my departure from this place.’. Cullen went silent, his sandy blonde hair spilling over his forehead ‘But I didn’t die. The one thing I knew that would take away all the pain, my death, and it never came. When all hope was lost and there was not a skerrick of chance left to absolve me, I was saved. Somehow I survived.’

‘But you didn’t want to?’ I queried in a mumble, knowing the answer already but hoping I was wrong.

‘I didn’t know what to think at the time.’ muttered Cullen ‘It was surreal. Walking out of the Kinloch Hold was stranger than any experience I have ever experienced. I knew I was alive but I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t trust it. It felt like at any moment it would be taken away from me. Sometimes I felt like I didn’t even deserve it, that I had somehow managed to cheat death. I felt like some strange spirit lingering between life and death, trapped in between two places, and not knowing where I belonged. The memories were so fresh, and I tried to move on and for the most part I was able to block my thoughts of the past. Distract myself. At first I was sent by my Knight-Commander to Greenfell, where I stayed a while at the Chantry to rest. Eventually I was sent to Kirkwall to serve at the Circle, and later on I was promoted to Knight-Captain.’

‘So things turned around for you?’ I remarked, half unconvinced by my broad sweeping statements. How could things ever turn around for someone who had been tortured by a tower full of demons?

The Commander raised his brows ‘I finally had a purpose I had longed for, and I saw it as my chance to turn things around, yes. Unfortunately, I discovered you cannot ignore the past forever and it has a remarkable way of reminding you of it. The memories began to creep back into my mind. Flashbacks, nightmares. Drenched in sweat, clinging to my sheets in sheer terror, feeling like I was reliving the horrors every night. Every time I saw a mage I began to see the abominations at the Kinloch Hold. Can you imagine?’. Cullen let out a bitter laugh ‘A templar and I couldn’t bare to look at a mage. I began to take more and more lyrium, more anything that I could get my hands on, anything that could dull the pain. It’s funny how many templars were doing the same, although they had not even witnessed what I had, yet still they desperately wanted to drown out their reality. Perhaps that says more about the Order than we care to acknowledge?’

‘Mages and templars alike.’ I added, half to myself.

‘Despite my efforts to dull my senses, nothing ever worked,’ continued Cullen ‘and just made things worse. I drowned my sorrows in addiction, sex and the righteousness of my position, determined to the very end that what I was doing would make a difference. A difference that I couldn’t make at the Kinloch Hold.’

‘You were in a terrible situation Cullen, you must see that?’ I defended ‘You weren’t to blame.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ he scoffed, narrowing his cynical eyes towards me ‘You, a mage of all people? I would have executed you, or tranquilised you, had you been in Kirkwall at the time I was there.’

‘I don’t believe that.’ I murmured in unease.

Cullen drew a sharp breath, looking away before turning his eyes on me, eyes that were stern and very, very unforgiving ‘If you had cast magic on me in Kirkwall, like what you did back in Ortik’s Tavern, I would have had you tranquilised.’

Somewhat shocked at the confidence of his predictions, I remained silent.

‘Knight-Commander Meredith was my greatest advocate in my hatred of mages.’ continued Cullen ‘Say the wrong thing, try and escape the circle, even utter the words blood magic, and you would have sealed your fate. I was a merciless master, I can assure you that much.’. Gnashing his teeth, Cullen ran his hands in frustration through his hair. ‘If you could have seen how many mages were turning to blood magic in Kirkwall,’ he grimaced ‘it was as if the city was cursed with damn blood magic, and we needed to display a firm hand. However I forgot a firm hand keeps the guilty, as well as the innocent, in check, and not always justly. What we did to some of the mages....’

I knew Cullen’s silence meant terrible things, although I knew I didn’t want to know the details. He came to me in contrition, but in truth I did not know whether I could absolve him.

‘Well,’ muttered the Commander ‘sufficed to say it disgusts and shames me what Meredith made me do, but to be fair, when all is said and done, I can’t even blame her, can I? My actions are my own and they were horrific. I look back at that man in Kirkwall and I am loathed to think he is the same person here professing to….’. Cullen drew quiet.

‘Professing to?’ I remarked in confusion.

Turning his head, Cullen leaned towards me suddenly and drew his lips to mine as his hands ran up through my hair, his strong mouth devouring mine, his warm pink tongue searching for mine. Finally he drew back, inches apart, looking deeply into my eyes, holding my head in his hands. The sandy tresses falling over his high forehead, the dark stubble running over his chiseled jaw, his amber eyes full of light, deep set brows and a defined Ferelden nose. It was a handsome, stern face full of intense affection and admiration.

‘I love you.’ Cullen whispered ‘I love you, Ophelia.’

His words were powerful, beautiful, yet foreign and strange, welcomed with joyful enthusiasm by myself as I reflected his smile. I was drowning in his eyes, and it was there I wished to stay forever. ‘

I love you.’ I whispered back ‘I don’t care what you have done in your past, by Andraste I swear it.’

A soft smile formed on his lips as Cullen pulled me onto his lap, straddling me across his thighs as I sat face towards him. The Commander’s metal chausses dug hard against the underside of my leather thighs, although I barely noticed, my attention being consumed by the man before me. Cullen ran his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against him, his lips running lightly across the skin of my neck, my cheeks, my forehead, and then finally fluttering onto my lips, the ex-templar exploring my mouth with increasing enthusiasm. His amber eyes filled mine as he reluctantly pulled away.

‘How can I love you and protect you,’ he murmured ‘if I can’t be certain I can protect you from myself?’

‘I trust you.’ I whispered, softly kissing his neck with a grin ‘Maker damn you, how many times do I need to say it!’

Throwing me a devious smile, Cullen nodded ‘I know.’. His amusement turned serious all of a sudden, a cloud drawing on his face. ‘I want to take you away from all this fighting and death.’ he muttered ‘I’ve seen history repeat itself over and over again. One man falls, only to be replaced with another, blood spilling into more blood, until there is nothing left to fight for. It’s only a matter of time before one of us will be expected to spill our own blood for this cause, and Maker be damned I don’t intend to wait for that to happen.’

My eyes drew away, and Cullen noticed the troubled expression ‘Trevelyan? What is it? What is the matter?’

‘I meant what I said to you on the road to Ortik’s Tavern’ I replied shamefully ‘I don’t want to be the Inquisitor and I don’t want to be here.’. Running my hands through his sandy locks I added ‘I have more to lose now than I did before I joined the damn cause.’

‘As do I.’ replied Cullen softly, holding me tighter in his arms ‘Life is fragile and it can be taken in a moment’s breath. Look around at the people of Thedas. Most of the common folk struggle to survive a winter, let alone the onslaught of a crazed ancient Magister. I’m the Commander of this Inquisition, I serve to protect the people....’. He clenched his jaw, his eyes dark ‘..but I know I can’t protect them all. To add further insult, I can’t even protect the one person I care the most about, and living with that truth is killing me. I want you away from harm.’

I drew my eyes to my glowing hand. ‘As do I’ I murmured ‘However there is one small problem.’

‘That damnable tear in the sky.’ scorned Cullen, grabbing my face in his hands suddenly ‘I want you to leave all this. Ride away into the dark of night, find some place better.’. His eyelashes fluttered, his face in confusion, struggling to understand the thoughts in his head ‘I’d rather see you ride off into the distance and never see you again than live with the fact that I sent you to your death.’

‘As would I to you,’ I replied firmly ‘but I will not leave you.’

‘I fear, then, we are both as stubborn as each other’ chuckled Cullen sadly.

‘Cullen,’ I murmured ‘I used to trust in fate, and know that if something was meant to be, then it would happen. Now however, especially after how close we all came to death in Haven...how can we trust that fate is on our side? How do we know this isn’t all in vain?’

Cullen shook his head. ‘Welcome to the wonderful world of warfare.’ he scorned ‘Trevelyan, you are no warrior. You were a shielded mage living in a cage that us templars like to call the Circle. A mage that has been flung into a fight that was never yours. Now you are the one responsible for pulling us all out of this mess. Whatever happens, I will be by your side until the very end. However if I can find a reason to keep you out of danger, I will be fervently advising it. I fear the other council members will not be so solicitous.’. Cullen held my attention sternly, like that of the Commander to his recruits ‘Do not trust the other council members with your life, they do not make decisions with that concern as their primary objective.’

‘I want you out of danger also.’ I replied, trying to ignore the shiver that crossed my skin from Cullen’s warning ‘I couldn’t bare if something happened to y-’

Cullen drew his finger to my lips and whispered a shhhh, softly smiling at me as I remained quiet. ‘You forget Trevelyan,' whispered Cullen 'I am a warrior. My job will always be to fight and defend. Let me put it to good use, for you.’

Unable to bear thinking of what a life would be without each other, running my arms around his neck and his around my waist, we embraced in the calm of the night, not letting the other go, feeling our chests rise against each other, and the sweet warmth of our breath against each others skin, bound together until the crackling fire had died down into nothing more than glowing coal. We wanted to run, but we chose to stay, and the reason was apparent. Our cause was a mutual one, stronger than stone and wilder than flame, and it had nothing, nothing at all, to do with the Inquisition.


	10. No Helpful Act Came Without A Price

**Chapter Ten: No Helpful Act Ever Came Without A Price**

Gusts of air breezily swept along the grey stone floor, invading from the outside through insignificant cracks and stones missing in the walls of the keep. All was deathly quiet in the late hour of night, so still that the light patter from the feet of mice could be heard across the floor, the gentle ruffle of feathers from the ravens stirred every now and then, and the soft coo of pigeons nestled in the rafters above that lulled the evening into a dreamy embrace.

With a nervous tap tap tap of her calligraphy pen, striking hard against the sturdy writing board clasped tight in her hand, Josephine Montilyet paced the isolated lower chamber of the keep, waiting and watching for any sign of movement in the shadowy room. Catching her breath, she edged closer to the door as a few kitchen hands passed by, in blissful ignorance of the dealings that were going on within.

‘Lady Montilyet.’ called out a low voice with a common tongue.

Josephine spun around to see a soldier stepping out from the shadows, wearing a cuirass of the Inquisition on his breast. He was stout man with a barrel chest with a head full of shaggy red hair, a face riddled scars old and new, and skin like tanned leather.

‘Webb, did anyone see you come here?’ she asked nervously, stepping hesitantly towards the soldier. Her wide dark brown eyes scoured the room, half expecting someone to jump out. ‘Were you seen by anyone? Anyone at all?’

‘No, me lady.’ replied Webb ‘I’ve been ‘ere for about an hour as you asked, an’ I entered through ‘em lower doors.’. The soldier hesitated a moment, casting his eyes around the room before adding in a whisper ‘I did what you asked ov me...you know, on my recent journey to Shrimstoke.’

‘And?’ asked Josephine, disinterested at lingering on civil inquiries as to whether her companion fared a good journey or not. Her eyes pressed sharply on the soldier ‘Did you hear anything of import?’

The soldier frowned ‘Aye, I tried to listen in on their conversations an’ such.’

‘Tried?’ replied Josephine agitatedly 'What do you mean you tried?'

‘As much as would’na draw suspicion to me’self.’ added the soldier defensively.

‘Stop dragging this out.’ snapped the Antivan ‘Did you hear anything of interest or not? What did they say?’

The soldier shuffled uneasily on the spot, apparently not too comfortable at being asked to report on spying on his superiors. ‘Few times Commander Cullen spoke ‘bout his early days as one of em’ templars. Most in hushed whispers mind you, but there were parts I heard. Oh and a lot was just sweet nuffings between lovers, between Commander and the Inquisitor, know what I mean?’

Drawing a sharp breath, Josephine turned away for a moment to gather her composure. Finally she turned back to her companion, anger seething in her eyes. ‘Well? What did he say about his past? Did they talk about Michel de Chevin?’

‘Maister ov Blades?’ remarked the soldier, slightly confused at the question. ‘Nay, heard no talk ‘bout him during the journey.’

With tight fists, the ambassador let out a frustrated sigh ‘What then did they speak of?!’

The man paused for a moment before answering. ‘Commander Cullen did talk a lot about his hatred ov blood mages...one evening when we was all gone to bed for the night I heard him and the Inquisitor talkin’ ‘bout that, all serious an’ everything.’

‘Hatred of blood mages?’ Josephine repeated in slight confusion.

‘Aye, heard him say he tranquilised a lot of ‘em in Kirkwall. That and his time in Ferelden before that, somethin’ ‘bout some demons an’ such.’

Josephine nodded hastily. ‘Yes, yes Leliana mentioned Cullen was at the Circle Tower in Ferelden...but how does that help me?’ she muttered.

‘Help you?’ replied Webb uncertainly.

Waving her hand to dismiss the question, which was not directed at her companion in the first place, Josephine looked at the soldier sharply. ‘Anything else Webb? How did the Commander and Inquisitor get along on the trip?’

Webb shrugged ‘Commander was in good spirits, an’ he spent most ov the time riding with the Inquisitor during the day and talking with her ‘round the fire at night. Got pretty cozy in front of us, why they even shared a tent most nights.’

Brow furrowed and pursed lips, the Antivan shook her head as she tried to muster her thoughts, a swirling pit of jealous inflicted sickness churning in her gut.

‘What of the Inquisitor?’ pressed Josephine, her eyes growing madder by the second ‘Did she do anything that aroused any suspicion? Any conversations with other people? Did she go off without Cullen? Was she hiding anything?’

If Webb looked confused before, he looked downright bewildered now. ‘No, me lady. The Inquisitor did nothing ‘cept ride out to Shrimstoke, an’ kept to ‘erself most ov the time. She wasn’t up to nuffin’ dark or unnatural, if that’s what you mean?’

With a roll of her eyes, Josephine’s lips began to curl into a grin, an idea suddenly coming to mind, a splendid epiphany that her face could not contain.

‘Of course...’ she whispered in delight ‘It is so simple and yet...yet I never thought of it before. OF COURSE!!!’. Tapping the board in delight, her spirits lifted once more as she turned back to her companion.

‘Lady Montilyet?’ remarked Webb hesitantly.

‘You’ve done splendid,’ replied Josephine promptly ‘and as promised.’. Diving her hand hastily into her pocket, she thrust a blue velvet pouch of coins into the hands of the soldier ‘Speak of this to anyone, even a whisper, and you will be silenced by my own means.’

The soldier nodded seriously ‘As always, you ‘ave me word, me lady.’

‘One more thing,’ she added eagerly ‘are there any crones in these parts of Thedas?’

‘Crones, me lady?’

‘Yes crones, or witches? Or hags? Charmers?’ replied the Antivan impatiently ‘Are there any? Someone who would dabble in a little blood magic perhaps? I need someone who can do blood magic.’

The soldier frowned, shaking his head and crossing himself with the sign of the Chantry. ‘Nay none o’ that round these parts, thank the Maker. An’ I don’t know any crone that’ll dabble in blood magic, that there is what they call molifi...meelificrum...nay, what is it? Maleficarum, aye that’s it. Folk would stone a maleficar before ‘em kind could settle round these parts.’

‘Three pouches of coin.’ replied Josephine firmly ‘I need you to find a maleficar for me.’

The soldier shook his head wildly. 'Nay mistress, I couldn't be involved in such darkness. The Maker would hang me by the boots.'

'Six pouches of coin.' replied Josephine sharply.

With the promise of that much coin, his moral dilemma suddenly melted away and a name came miraculously to the soldier’s mind. ‘Aye,’ piped up Webb ‘no crones come to mind but there be a wise woman who aids ‘em folk ‘round these parts, deals mostly in ‘erbs and such. Mistress Margery, most folk go to her for cures and a few curses in between. I’m guessin’ she knows a lot o’ people, might be a malificar or two. She’s as old as the hills ‘emselves. I could ask ‘er perhaps, if she knows ov any such folk that could help you?’

‘Go tonight.’ ordered Josephine ‘We cannot waste any time. If you want more coin than you know what to do with, you will find me the location and arrange a meeting with a maleficar who is willing to sell their services to me. Discretion is imperative Webb, I don’t have to tell you that.’

With a dismissive flick of her hand, the soldier threw an uncertain half bow to the ambassador and departed quickly. Josephine followed on a few moments later, the nervous tapping of her pen on her board echoing through the corridors as she pressed towards her study, her mind consumed with more thoughts than she could possibly contain.

****

The sun had already sunk behind the mountains for a few good hours when we were called to the war council room that night. The torches were blazing bright attached to the walls as we traipsed the halls to our meeting. Fingers entwined amongst the darkness of the cloisters, Cullen and I pressed on at a somewhat leisurely pace, hoping to steal a few more moments together before they were inevitably stolen from us.

‘You’ll be off by tomorrow, mark my words.’ muttered Cullen in displeasure. Pulling at my arm to slow me down even further, he drew me close to his chest. ‘Maker damn them all.’

Succombing to his embrace, I relished his brood frame with my fingers. ‘We just got back from Shrimstoke a week ago. Surely the council wouldn’t be that sadistic? No, they must be calling us tonight because of some new information. Another agent missing perhaps?’

Casting his gaze across the deserted walkway, the ex-templar shook his head. ‘We don’t call late night war council meetings for such things. I've a bad feeling.’ Squeezing my hand, he somewhat reluctantly pulled me onwards ‘Come on. The sooner we find out what it is, the sooner we can return to what we were doing before that blasted messenger knocked on your door and ruined our night.’

With a grin I followed on. Cullen and I had been enjoying the evening away from the people of Skyhold, tucked up in my room with more food and wine than was feasible for either of us to consume. Cullen had jokingly referred to our stockpile as equalling, if not outdoing, the supplies at the siege of Castle Perrinbrock, an infamous siege that had lasted for the duration of two impressive years. The Commander had a knack for spouting random historical facts that I had neither heard nor likely ever would, yet he knew the facts of each and every story with prestigious detail, and I suspected took great delight in recounting them, like that of a bard entertaining patrons at an inn.

Despite the glut of food and wine we had hoarded, we were even more so ravenous for each others company, and our recent return promised some time alone that we desperately craved. After weeks of travelling in the close confines of an entourage of Inquisition soldiers, the temptation of a roaring fire, crimson wine, roasted boar, fresh oat bread drizzled with warm butter and complete and utter privacy held our interest more than anything else in Skyhold, or even Thedas, ever could.

Walking further down the narrow corridor Cullen stopped suddenly, a sinful smile revealing itself from the light of the moon shining through the lead glass paned windows. He pulled me into a dark nook behind a pillar and drew me close, his lips pressing against mine wantonly as his hands explored with a familiarity that was anything but chaste.

‘Damn the council,’ he growled 'come, let’s ignore this one’. His warm breath lingered on my neck as he proceeded to playfully bite at my left ear lobe, teeth grazing my flesh as his fingers grasped harder into my skin. ‘I have pressing matters of my own.’ he added, pushing himself hard against me.

‘They know where to find us.’ I groaned, running my fingers along the soft skin of his temples, and tracing down his jaw to the scar on his lip, his amber eyes holding mine as his chest rose and fell. 'There is no escape Commander.'

‘I wager you could find us a murky, isolated, filthy place in this keep that no one has graced in over a hundred of years.’ Cullen mockingly replied, drawing his lips to my collarbone and neck to continue with kisses, his growing hardness pressing firmly against my lower stomach as he secured me against the cold stone wall of the keep. 

‘Thanks, I think?’ I grinned ‘Still, even Leliana managed to find most of my hiding places. I’m afraid we are doomed to grace the war council on this night.’

Cullen groaned in frustration, wrenching himself off me as he took in a few deep breaths of the cold night air, trying to regain his decorum now knowing our small tryst would not be fully indulged until after the council matters were attended to. With a reluctant tug of my hand, the Commander led me onwards, and after a few more twists and turns down numerous passageways we finally reached the wooden doors to the war council room. Cullen pushed them open forcefully, with me following in tow.

‘There had better be a damn good reason for calling a meeting at this abominable hour.’ announced the Commander sternly as he entered the room. His eyes looked accusingly across the room at Leliana leaning against the table with Josephine next to her, and Cassandra by the window who was looking out into the still dark of night below.

Raising an amused eyebrow, the Spymaster darted her eyes behind Cullen to where I was standing before bringing them back to the Commander. ‘Did we disturb something?’ she asked politely, yet even more so tauntingly.

‘As a matter of fact you did disturb Ophelia and I.’ informed Cullen plainly, moving towards the table where a pile of documents were laid out ‘We just returned from your last irritating mission but a week ago and deserve some time alone.’

Biting my lip, I turned to secure the doors shut, trying to wipe the smile on my face. It was the first time Cullen had openly acknowledged some form of involvement with me, and for the most part I was glad to be out of hiding, although I felt myself growing more sheepish by the moment as I turned to face my companions and their curious faces.

‘This should not take long.’ interjected Josephine sharply, briskly drawing a letter from her board to lay out on the table ‘I have received word from Orlais. It seems they were unaware of the Inquisition’s dealings with their ex-chevalier until word of the recent Grand Tourney drew their attention.’

‘What of it?’ muttered Cullen ‘They declared him a traitor, they wanted nothing to do with him.’

‘A matter of principle it appears.’ replied Leliana ‘Empress Celene is not happy that her disgraced champion is now Skyhold’s new champion. The Maister of Blades.’

The Commander scoffed, shaking his head in disgust ‘Then you need to send Empress Celene a clear message that the Inquisition is not concerned with the politics of Orlais. We have bigger issues to contend with than the hurt feelings of that mockery of an empire.’

‘Whether we agree with the opinions of Orlais or not, we need them as an ally and we must try to keep the peace.’ observed Josephine firmly ‘There is more at stake here.’

‘What does keeping the peace actually entail? I asked precariously, an ill premonition overcoming me of where this meeting was tending towards.

‘Empress Celene has asked for a public trial,’ answered Leliana ‘for the people to determine Michel de Chevin’s fate, and justice to be finally served.’

‘But they’ll murder him!’ I retorted angrily.

‘Michel de Chevin is too important to lose.’ observed Cassandra ‘The Inquisition and he are bound together now. There are many people from all across Thedas that support us purely because of the antics performed by the chevalier during the Tourney. The people love him.’

Cullen threw a dark look to the spy-master and the ambassador ‘Even more importantly, he a good soldier. Michel had aided in the betterment of my men and women from the moment he stepped foot into Skyhold. He is popular in the ranks, and it appears across the whole damn realm now. We need him alive and in the Inquisition.’

Leliana nodded ‘I agree. Which is why Josephine has managed to offer the Orlesian court a compromise.’

‘What compromise?’ I asked suspiciously, producing an equally sceptical look from the Commander.

‘I wrote to the Orlesian Court suggesting a meeting, a meditation of sorts,’ replied Josephine ‘between you Ophelila, Michel de Chevin, and Empress Celene.’

‘What could that possibly achieve.’ scoffed Cullen ‘For all we know all she intends to do is obtain justice through her own underhanded ways while he is there. You are putting him in danger, and the Inquisitor for that matter.’

I cast a concerned look to Cullen, recalling what he had warned me at the campfire on our recent journey away. ‘I agree with the Commander. The Orlesians are not renowned for their compromising nature. Empress Celene has requested we send Michel de Chevin back with the intention to be tried. She would never reside to a civil mediation in its stead. He was declared a traitor, and a chevalier who is a traitor is expected to take his own life.’

‘It is the only way to try and keep some form of peace and good relations between the Inquisition and Orlais.’ replied Josephine in slight agitation. ‘If you do not agree to this meeting, the Empress will see the Inquisition as being hostile. Our relationship will turn sour very quickly, and when we need the aid and support of Orlais when facing Corypheus we will soon regret not keeping them close by our sides. Is one man really worth the collapse of our main cause?’

‘It’s a matter of principle.’ argued Cullen sternly ‘If you begin kowtowing to the demands of every ally then we become less about serving for the greater cause and more about serving the interests of rulers who have no qualm in using the Inquisition to their own advantage.’. The Commander threw a frustrated scowl to Leliana. ‘Why are you playing into the hand of this wretched Empress? If Gaspard de Chalons were ruling Orlais, he wouldn’t be wasting our time with pointless trivialities like this over one man that fled the empire.’

'And yet he's not.' replied Leliana a little colder 'Celene is, and she is someone that does not forget.' 

‘Cassandra, what do you think?’ I asked, looking towards the Nevarran who had been rather quiet during the meeting so far.

‘I agree with Cullen,’ replied Cassandra ‘it is a waste of our time. However I think you should go and meet with Empress Celene as a formality, to keep the peace for now. Our ties with Orlais hang by a loose thread, I would not want this to be the severing tie.’

Leliana nodded. ‘I agree. Orlais is not an ally to insult by ignoring this request. They have been generous enough to accept a compromise, despite their initial request, and we should not keep them waiting.’. She looked towards me adding ‘Of course, it is up to the Inquisitor.’

Being caught between a rock and hard place was an understatement as I pondered the matter with displeasure, with every pair of eyes in the room pressing hard on me in silent anticipation. Everything in me wanted to say no, but my role as Inquisitor informed me that I should say yes. ‘A mediation means I will be bringing Michel de Chevin to Orlais and then back to Skyhold at the end of the trip. There is no compromise in that. ’ I declared with a frown ‘As long as we are all clear about that, I suppose we must go.’

With a displeased sigh, Cullen rested his hands heavily against the strong oak table. ‘Very well, I shall escort the Inquisitor with a dozen of my own soldiers.’. He raised his head to mine, his amber eyes holding mine sternly ‘That is not a request.’

‘Then you shall set off the day after tomorrow. I shall send word to Val Royeaux of your impending arrival.’ replied Josephine animatedly ‘We cannot delay this journey I am afraid.’

‘Someone is going to have to tell Michel de Chevin.’ added Cullen darkly.

‘Leave that to me.’ replied Leliana ‘I will make him see reason, and convince him that he is in no danger.’

Rolling my eyes, I knew Michel deserved better than that. ‘He’s not stupid, Leliana. He’ll know the Inquisition is most likely sending him to his death.’

‘Perhaps you can talk to him also?’ added Josephine, throwing a half smile in encouragement. ‘Michel may take your words closer to heart?’

Casting my eyes across the table, I looked to Cullen who was growing more agitated by the moment, both of us distracted from the slight smirk on Josephine’s face, or the disapproving glance that Leliana was throwing towards her friend.

‘You want Michel de Chevin to go to Orlais, fine.’ growled Cullen, casting his unforgiving gaze upon the Antivan ambassador ‘But you tell him yourself. He needs to know who is behind this devilish plan.’. Flinging the papers loosely onto the table, Cullen proceeded for the door ‘If that is all, I've a dozen soldiers to ready in a days time.’

Drawing his attention to me, Cullen waited at the door for me to join him, and I was more than a little thankful for a way out of the room full of displeased women. I hurried my pace to try and keep up with the Commander as he bore heavy strides across the cold stones of the corridor.

‘They're putting you in needless danger.’ he growled, his eyes flashing with anger. ‘Sending you to fucking Orlais for a damn assassination attempt.’

‘I agree, but we really do need the Orlesian support.’ I replied softly, reaching out for his hand to slow Cullen down. ‘It'll be alright. And thank you for insisting on coming with me, I feel safer knowing you’ll be there with me.’

Stopping by the entrance of the main hall, he turned to me momentarily ‘There is no way I would have let you make this journey by yourself. There is more at play here, you do see that? Josephine is too smart to know this is a simple mediation, and Leliana is all but too aware of the ways Orlais hands out justice. One way or the other, I intend to bring you back from that damn place alive and breathing. I cannot guarantee Michel de Chevin will be so lucky.’

Drawing his lips to my cheek, Cullen placed a kiss, the stubble from his cheek rubbing against my skin combined with the supple tenderness of the warm flesh of his lips. With a certain possessiveness, he wrapped his large arms around my waist firmly. ‘I must go ready my soldiers for this mockery of an expedition.’ he murmured ‘You should go and sleep, you need to rest before we leave.’

A few idle stares and whispers passed our way as we lingered at the entrance of the hall, with Cullen finally letting his fingers go from my hips to descend into the courtyard below. With a worried expression, I turned my gaze from the departing Commander up towards the clear sky above, where a prominent red ring around the full moon caught my attention. 

Blood on the moon, an ill omen commonly known across Thedas.

An ill omen I was desperate to dismiss as idle folklore this particular eve, even though in my heart I dreaded to turn my gaze upon it for a moment longer. Turning my heel, I was determined that ignorance would be my bedfellow for the night, and the journey ahead would be one without trial or tribulation.

****

On the back of a black steed, she mounted in the early hours of morning before the stable hands had even risen from the soft hay in the loft of the barn. The sky was still dark overhead, although the night had begun to transform into the swirling grey pool of dawn, that eerie moment between night and day, when both meet momentarily and all the world seems to stand still. It was at this time that she galloped out into the frost covered gravel road that followed the curve of the mountainside and eventually descended into the greener parts of Ferelden.

As early morning passed into early afternoon, she came to the edge of a small forest growing beside the base of the mountain, a pretty part of nature where the plants grew wild, reaching up towards the trees, as if dancing together in a blur of different shades of green and brown intermittent with speckles of floral red, purple and white. The soft chirp of crickets and low hum of cicadas could be heard, baking in the rays of the warm sun that filtered through the trees, and spilled onto the old hut covered in ivy and vines, that sat nestled amongst the tall trees, rock and thicket, concealed to those who were unaware of it’s whereabouts. A narrow dirt path lined with smooth pebbled stones drew to the entrance of the dwelling, a tired and sagging abode with a splintered, brown wooden door.

Dismounting with a certain degree of uncertainty and apprehension, Josephine walked along the path and hesitantly knocked thrice on the door of the hut.

A few moments passed until a voice on the other side finally answered ‘Who is it?’

‘My name is Josephine.’ replied the Antivan with an air confidence that concealed her nervous flutterings ‘I was told by an acquaintance of mine, Webb, that I could find someone called Levyn living here that could aid me?’

The door clicked twice, a locked being released, and a muttering of words sounded before a flash of light from under the door revealed itself. Josephine caught her breath as she watched the door open, and a tall man greeted her. He had pale white skin and dark black hair that fell to his shoulders, heavy set brows and black intense eyes that fixated strongly to wherever he looked. The man was in his early thirties, yet held a face that had seen many more trying experiences than was deserving. Calm and collected, if not serene and borderline smug, his was an intelligent and pleasant face that greeted the Antivan at the door.

‘Josephine, I have been expecting you.’ greeted the man ‘I am Levyn. Please come in.’. His dark eyes scattered quickly past her, scouring for any sign of unwanted guests ‘You have come alone?’

‘Naturally’ replied Josephine, adjusting her green riding coat that had become tangled in her dark hair ‘I believe both of us value our secrecy in matters such as these.’. She hesitated at the threshold for a moment before taking a step in to the unknown dwelling.

Levyn closed the door behind her, and muttered some words under his breath, the door suddenly glowing in strange blue markings.

‘It is a dwelling protection spell.’ reassured Levyn, beckoning her with a smile into the large room in the centre of the hut ‘One can never be too careful these days. Please, take a seat by the fire.’

‘I must admit, I expected someone older.’ begun Josephine.

‘And more evil looking? With blood drenched robes and a sinister appearance?’ chuckled the mage in playful jest ‘I'm afraid I have disappointed?’

With a nervous grin, Josephine shook her head. ‘I admit I have never met a blood mage so I should not know what to think.’ she replied, taking her attention around the room to the many shelves full of herbs and poultices, stones, metals, feathers and dried vegetables, some familiar but most not, with cluttered piles of books and scrolls in between.

‘Not that you know of.’ remarked Levyn with a raised eyebrow ‘To be certain there are many mages that practice blood magic, and most of them try to remain as anonymous as possible.’

‘Then Webb mentioned to you that I was looking for someone to aid in me in such practices.’ acknowledged Josephine ‘I will speak plainly. I need you to turn someone into a maleficar.’

The dark haired man threw her a bemused look, almost as if he was entertained yet slightly annoyed by her ignorance. His black eyes drew intently towards his guest with a slight tilt of his curious head. ‘It doesn’t quite work like that. To practice blood magic, the art of the maleficarum, there needs to be intent. A true practice of blood magic. You cannot turn someone into a maleficar, they become so by their own will, by choosing to practice blood magic....amongst other things.’

‘You are a blood mage, yes?’ asked Josephine

Levyn nodded ‘I have practiced blood magic for over a decade and have grown to know it very well.’

‘So, could you teach someone how to cast a blood spell?’

‘I could teach someone to practice blood magic, yes’ replied Levyn.

‘Could you do it so the person did not know it was actually blood magic they were being taught?’ asked Josephine hastily ‘The person I speak of is a mage already.’

‘Without them knowing?’ Levyn remarked cynically ‘Unless the mage in question is the most dim-witted mage in all of Thedas I don’t see how that would be possible. I would assume this mage you speak of has been raised in a circle, and taught from an early age that the use of blood magic is strictly forbidden. This mage would know, for you need to use blood to practice blood magic.’

The ambassador narrowed her eyes in concentration, her fingers nervously pulling at the loose thread of her grey sleeve. ‘What if we were to convince her it was the only way, the only option?’ murmured Josephine, half to herself ‘A solution to a riddle, the answer to a question that can never be answered any other way?’

‘I’m not sure I quite follow your meaning.’ frowned Levyn, settling down into a chair by the fire.

‘What if we could convince this mage that summoning a demon was the only way out of a bad situation?’ replied Josephine ‘That might work just as well?’

‘A situation?’ replied Levyn curiously ‘What situation might that be?’

‘I’m not sure what, I was hoping you could tell me.’ replied the Antivan impatiently ‘I’m not familiar with such things.’

‘Perhaps you can start by telling me who this mage is?’ replied Levyn calmly, his black eyes narrowing in the slightest annoyance. ‘Josephine, please I assure you there is nothing to be fearful. Like all my clientèle, I guarantee you of my complete silence. Anything you tell me will remain within these walls.’

With nervous eyes dashing around the room, noticing the side room behind him, one that was sparsely furnished with a small wooden bed, to the humble table laden with strange bowls of salt and root powder, Josephine was desperate to avoid the question presented to her.

‘Fine.’ she finally murmured 'It is the Inquisitor'

The mage looked surprised, before shrugging and reaching for an iron poker to stoke the fire. ‘Might I ask as to why her of all people? By all assertions it would seem your Inquisitor is not unpopular, or useless in this plight of yours? Why would you seek to make her practice blood magic, for what I can only assume will lead to her untimely disgrace from the Inquisition?’

‘Too many questions from someone who is standing to gain a great deal from this.’ replied Josephine sharply.

The mage's lip curled at the spiteful reply, as if hostility amused him more than anything. ‘In the past I have worked for people of great status against people of great status, and came a little too close to death for even my liking.’ remarked Levyn flatly ‘I cannot be linked to something involving the Inquisitor, it is too risky. There is a reason I live as a hermit these days in the middle of nowhere, and it has nothing to do with a love of dry rot and sparse company.’

‘There would be no way of connecting you to this as I am the only person, aside from Webb, who knows of our dealings. And if Webb is a problem for you I can deal with him.’ reassured Josephine ‘I would not risk my own reputation either, I promise you. I am also willing to pay you whatever you require for your services.’

The mage tapped his foot against the wooden chair, deep in contemplation before raising his eyes to meet Josephine’s.

‘Money I have plenty.’ remarked Levyn ‘But I find favours are always a valuable commodity.’

‘A favour?’ replied Josephine uncertainly.

‘When the time comes, if at all, I would seek a favour from you. All I require is that you aid me when I ask of it.’

‘That all depends on the request’ replied Josephine cynically.

Levyn shrugged with a carefree chuckle ‘Well there is a dilemma, for I shan't know of what that would be until the time comes that I need a favour! It is unknown, and I was never any good at foretelling the future.’

‘As long as this favour doesn’t involve death or a kingdom’s worth of coin, then you shall have my help.’ replied Josephine urgently, eager to begin with her own plans ‘Can we proceed now?’

Levyn threw a dark smile to his companion ‘With pleasure.’. Strumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair, the mage pondered over his thoughts in silence, finally turning his attention back to the ambassador who was watching him somewhat impatiently.

‘I cannot make someone a maleficar, nor teach them blood magic without suspicion. However there are other ways to lure one into the pool of blood magic. Say I bring a demon into somebody of interest to your Inquisitor?’ suggested the mage ‘The Inquisitor could be forced to make a deal with the demon, and perhaps that deal may involve her releasing the demon? Using, say, blood magic?’

‘Convince her into performing blood magic to release a demon?’ puzzled the Antivan ‘Why would she want to do that?’

‘To release the person the demon has possessed, and save them from death.’ replied Levyn brightly ‘Does the Inquisitor have someone she is close to?’

'Not Cullen’ frowned Josephine ‘He needs to be able to see all this when it happens.’. The ambassador stared intently into the fire ‘A child perhaps? Could you summon a demon into a child? Or a mother?’

The mage frowned, memories coming to mind of a time that he would rather forget. ‘Of course it is possible.’ he informed darkly ‘However if I can avoid such things I would prefer to do so. May I ask why specifically a child or mother?’

Josephine shrugged carelessly, waving her hand nonchalantly. ‘A mother, a child, a sweet innocent maid, I care not. It just has to be someone vulnerable enough that Trevelyan could not refuse. She needs to be in a situation where saving the person is more important than killing them to vanquish the demon.’

‘Well,’ replied Levyn ‘you will need the Inquisitor to deal directly with the demon either way.’

‘It’s not enough that she speaks to it.’ replied Josephine with a frown ‘Yes...we need her to be convinced that the only way to save the person is to perform blood magic.’. She drew her dark brown eyes to the mage ‘I need her to perform blood magic.’

‘Does the Inquisitor have family?’ inquired Levyn politely ‘Family often pulls at the heart strings where others do not.’

‘I’ve never seen them, let alone heard her speak about them.’ muttered the ambassador ‘They never have visited her at Skyhold so I would assume there is no close bond between them.

‘A friend perhaps?’ asked Levyn ‘A lover?’

‘No.’ replied Josephine sharply ‘Perhaps one of the members of the Inquisition...Varric? Sera?...Oh...’. With bright eyes, Josephine turned her gaze on the mage watching her curiously.

‘You have someone in mind?’ he asked with a knowing smile.

‘Michel de Chevin!!!’ blurted out the Antivan in delight ‘How could I have been so foolish? The answer was there all along. Yes, he is perfect!’

‘That name sounds familiar.’ frowned Levyn ‘Where have I heard it from?’

‘He is a member of the Inquisition.’ replied Josephine ‘He won the Skyhold Grand Tourney.’

‘Ah of course, that is it.’ the mage nodded ‘You see? Even us hermits know of the champion of the Grand Tourney. Is he someone the Inquisitor values enough to perform blood magic to save?’

‘Yes I believe so.’ she replied confidently ‘How long will it take for you to...find a demon?’

The mage frowned, pausing for a moment ‘Josephine, I must be certain that you understand what I propose? You are asking me to release a demon into the realm?’

Looking away sheepishly, she nodded briefly ‘Some things need to be done regardless of what may come of it. I would not do it if it was not the only way….will-will it cause trouble? The demon that is, once it is released?’

‘Most likely yes.’ answered Levyn seriously ‘Once it is released there will be more death in it’s trail, you need to know that. Lives will be lost.’

‘It is the only way.’ reassured Josephine.

Levyn shrugged ‘Well, as long as you are aware. I can perform a summoning ritual whenever you are ready. When and where you wish this possession to take place, well, that will require more details.’

The ambassador nodded ‘The Inquisitor and Michel de Chevin are to travel to Val Royeaux, the matter has been pressing for some time and they make this journey tomorrow. Could the demon take possession on the road during their travels?’

‘A better arrangement I could not have proposed.’ replied Levyn cheerfully ‘There will be less people around and I can set up a trap along the way.’

‘A trap?’ frowned Josephine.

‘A demon snare.’ explained Jowan.

‘A trap to snare a demon?’ remarked an even more confused Josephine.

‘Not quite.’ replied Levyn ‘A trap that contains a demon, to snare a human. A place for the demon to remain waiting until Michel de Chevin passes by. Would I be correct in assuming your party will have to ride along the Imperial Highway into Halamshiral before crossing over the Waking Sea to Val Royeaux?.’

‘You are well travelled for a hermit.’ observed Josephine in surprise.

Levyn nodded with a knowing smirk ‘A seasoned traveller yes, but perhaps not by choice. I'm very familiar with the Imperial Highway and know of the very tree I can fix the trap to. Your party will have to pass under it, anyone travelling along the highway passes under this tree. When Michel does, the demon will be free to possess his body.’

‘And can you be certain a demon will agree to this?’ she asked, her eyes grower more excited by the moment as she could finally see her plan coming to fruition.

‘Finding a demon that is willing to work with us in exchange for their freedom should be relatively easy.’ shrugged Levyn ‘It shouldn't take too long to find a willing participant if you will give me a few moments to perform a summoning.’

‘What? Now? Shouldn't you do that..by yourself?’ asked Josephine a little fearfully.

‘If there are any details the demon needs, I would prefer it if you are in the room to answer any questions.’ informed the mage ‘You won’t have to speak to it, you can direct all your answers or questions to me.’

With a warm smile, as if he had done this a million times before, Levyn beckoned his guest to the side of the room, along with the chairs and the rug spread over the wooden floor. Underneath a large circle was carved deep into the wood, almost as wide as the room itself, with strange markings scrawled over it.

‘Whatever you do, do not enter the circle.’ advised Levyn, pushing his black hair back from his face, revealing the deathly white skin of his high forehead.

Josephine nodded, her face ghostly white. ‘I assure you will remain where I am.’

Grabbing a large dish of white salt from the table, the mage scattered it loosely across the circle, murmuring a chant under his breath softly as he circled, a chant that grew louder and louder until he reached the beginning of the circle once more and was now shouting at the top of his voice. Duirth di monantan ro-argth. Duirth di monantan ro-argth. Duirth di monantan ro-argth. DUIRTH DI MONANTAN RO-ARGTH.

A low tremor shook the room, and the light from the fire grew dim as a swirling flame intertwined with crimson plumes of smoke appeared in the middle of the circle, weaving over and over, a symbol of eternity searing into the air like hot metal into flesh.

‘I seek a demon to aid in the possession of a man named Michel de Chevin.’ yelled out Levyn 'Who will answer my call for aid?'

Silence filled the room for a long period of time before a low, dark laughter erupted forth. Once it began however, it never seemed to stop and Josephine clutched the wooden table in terror, her nails digging into the splinters and drawing blood.

‘Jowan, Jowan, Jowan…..’ an oozing voice growled, filling the room with a heavy atmosphere as the red swirling smoke and flame remained in the centre of the circle ‘You asked for someone to possess the body of Michel de Chevin? I have answered.’

The mage narrowed his eyes in suspicion. ‘I can sense you demon. You are a much older and stronger than I would have expected for such a trivial task. Surely you could possess any human of your own accord without the aid of my workings?’

‘I have recently been exiled from the realm of men.’ growled the flame in the middle of the circle ‘I lack the strength to return immediately, though I wish it dearly.’

‘I’m not interested in unleashing a powerful force into the realm’ replied Levyn dismissively 'You sound like too much trouble to bargain with.'

‘Do you think a weaker demon would cause less chaos?’ the voice scorned ‘You, malificar, should know better than that. I’ve seen young demons cause more terror than you would dare dream in your darkest nightmares. However I know that such deeds will only bring attention to myself, and I intend to remain permanently in the realm of men this time. If you are seeking to release a demon into the realm, then let it be me.’

‘What is your name?’ Levyn asked firmly.

‘Imshael.’ replied the voice.

‘Imshael.’ repeated Levyn ‘Well, Imshael, I shall aid you back into the realm with my magic in order to possess the body of Michel de Chevin as your vessel. You must first agree to some conditions, for they are the only means by which you are to secure your freedom into the realm once more. Stray from them even a little and my magic will send you back from whence you came.’

‘Then state your conditions, Jowan.’ replied the demon in a low voice.

Running his hands through his limp black hair, Levyn nodded in satisfaction. ‘The deed shall take place on the Imperial Highway about forty miles out from Halamshiral, coming from the direction of the Frostback Mountains.’ informed the mage ‘First you must inhabit the body of Michel de Chevin, but this is only to gain the attention of his travelling companion. The Inquisitor, Ophelia Trevelyan.’

The demon hissed at the name, resulting in Levyn to pause momentarily with one raised black eyebrow.

‘This is not the first time you have heard of that name, I suspect?’ observed Levyn.

‘She and her minions sent me back into the fade.’ growled Imshael 'They made me weak so I now linger in this tepid place.'

‘Well the world is full of irony, isn’t it?’ dismissed Levyn ‘Is this going to be an issue for you, Imshael?’

‘No.’ hissed the demon.

‘Good. Now back to my conditions.’ responded Levyn ‘Trevelyan will want to save Michel de Chevin, and you must allow her to release you from Michel’s body.’

‘If that happens I will have to return to the fade.’ growled Imshael.

‘Not if she performs the blood rite of release.’ informed Levyn ‘You must tell her yourself that this is the only way to save Michel de Chevin.’

‘Very well, I accept your terms.’ replied the demon. ‘And if she kills Michel de Chevin? What do I get in return if I am sent back?’

‘I will release you into the realm myself, you have my word.’ confirmed Levyn.

The demon laughed, an evil and blood curdled laugh that filled the room with loathsome feelings in the pit of one’s stomach ‘Jowan, you would expect me to take you on your word? A mortal’s promise is more feather light than a dandelion floret on the wind.’

The mage’s eyes grew blacker than the still of midnight, when the moon hides behind a cloud of grey remorse, and drew dangerously to the swirling plumes of red smoke and flame. ‘Do not think you are the first or even one in a handful of demons I have dealt with, Imshael.’ warned Levyn dangerously. ‘My word is my word. If you cannot accept it then I will find another demon who will.’

‘Very well.’ snarled Imshael ‘You will have my cooperation in this matter. I am ready. When will this happen?’

Josephine looked frightened, but spoke clearly towards Levyn, who gave her an encouraging nod ‘Tomorrow they will set out from Skyhold to Val Royeaux.’

‘Most likely they will reach the Imperial Highway by the second day.’ observed Levyn ‘I will summon you again before then Imshael, to arrange your transportation. There is a large oak tree, a giant and aged species of blackened gnarled limbs and twisted roots, whose thick and contorted branches overhang a part of the Imperial Highway, about forty miles before you reach Halamshiral. You will possess Michel de Chevin at this spot, and it is there that I will set up the trap for which you can snare him, in the branches of that old Oak tree. I will tie the red flowers of a Hollyhock and white flowers of Hemlock around the drugged body of a rat. When I summon you again I will transport your spirit into this rat and you will remain in the possession of the rat until the moment Michel de Chevin passes under the very branch it’s body resides on.’

‘You must carve the ruins of release on the bark of the oak with a red handled scythe.’ growled the demon.

‘I know.’ replied Levyn matter a factly ‘It will be done when I place the rat in the tree. Even in your weakened state you will find it easy enough to pass from the body of the drugged rat into Michel de Chevin, and at that time you will reveal yourself to the Inquisitor. You must not wait until you reach Halamshiral or there will be others to aid her. I stress that time must be a factor, she must not think she or any of her companions can ride out for help. Tell the Inquisitor that Michel de Chevin will die immediately unless she performs the blood rite, and it must be then and there, or else you must kill Michel and return to the fade.’

‘With pleasure.’ hissed the demon.

Levyn turned his gaze on the demon sternly, sensing there was more to those words than he was privy to ‘There will be witnesses to tell me what has happened on this occasion. If I find out you merely killed the man without trying with all your will to convince the Inquisitor to perform blood magic, I promise you you will stay in the fade for longer than anticipated. You may be a powerful demon Ishmael, but have no doubt that I am a powerful Maleficar. Do not test me on my skills to hunt you down and destroy you.’

The swirling red grew larger, the demon obviously seething at the threat but unwilling to respond. ‘Is that all of the conditions?’ growled Imshael.

Levyn looked over to Josephine who nodded silently. ‘Yes, you may go now.’ replied Levyn.

The red plumes of smoke and flame died down and the fire in the pit grew strong. Levyn and Josephine were alone in the room once more.

‘Thank you.’ she whispered shakily, wiping a few beads of sweat on her dark brow ‘I will make sure the party set off tomorrow morning without fail.’

‘The less people, the better.’ replied Levyn firmly ‘For all our sakes. You need to send someone to watch over this and report what happens.’

Josephine nodded and proceeded to the door, before pausing and looking back to the mage. ‘Jowan?’ she remarked curiously ‘Why did the demon call you that?’

The mage held her gaze, his face stern and his black eyes clear and deep. ‘That was my name a long time ago.’ he replied coldly ‘However there are some things that we must let go in order to secure our anonymity in the world.’

Josephine nodded and turned to leave.

‘My curiosity will get the better of me.’ the mage called out suddenly, hands crossing in comfort across his chest ‘Forgive me Josephine, but why are you doing all this?’

The Antivan continued to the door, determined to ignore the question, but even in her blinding determination she knew there was no one else she could confess her dark secrets to. No one to listen and hear her, and perhaps empathise at the jealous green snake of envy that burrowed in her heart.

‘Have you ever done something drastic for love?’ she asked softly, shoulders falling forward as she continued to face the door, hands pressed against the wood as if in confession.

Jowan pursed his lips, displeased at reminiscing to darker days. ‘Indeed I have done terrible things in the name of love. Years later, however, I realised my deeds were selfish and had nothing to do with the person I professed to love. In the end, it was only ever about me.’

Josephine turned around sharply, a coldness in her eyes ‘Then your experience and mine are nothing alike. Everything I do, every action I take, is only for the person that I love.’

With a sharp turn, Josephine left the hut and into the murky depths of the night, leaving Jowan alone in his cabin once more. With a wide curl of his lips, he turned back to the fire and drew a chair close to the flames. He was less interested in the childish outbursts of his newest client, and more interested in the fact that no helpful act ever came without a price.


	11. The Journey Awaits

**Chapter Eleven: The Journey Awaits**

Warm and snug in my four poster bed, tangled amongst the soft cotton sheets and wolf pelts, I reluctantly stirred from my slumber. A thin sliver of sunlight had managed to sneak in through a narrow opening of the red curtains in the room and crept onto my pillow, whispering to me to wake up. Eyes fluttering open drowsily, I became aware of a large hand with coarse fingers gently running along my cheek and up through my hair.

'Shhh.' whispered Cullen with a gentle smile, his head resting on the pillow beside me as he lay on his side 'Let me enjoy this moment a little while longer before life and all its woes return to my head.'

'Is it really today?' I murmured, my tired eyes drifting shut once more.

'Unfortunately it is.' replied Cullen darkly 'Time to put us all in danger for the sake of good relations with Orlais. Utter madness. As long as Celene sits on that throne I say curse them and their opinion of us.'

There was more concerning me that just that, and last night I had tossed and turned thinking about how the council meeting had played out the prior day. 'It worries me that Josephine made agreements with Orlais without consulting us first.' I frowned 'She went over our heads on that one.'

'Josephine Montilyet is a fake, social climbing fool like the rest of them.' muttered Cullen 'Never trust anyone who values status and money over everything else.'. Looking more and more irritated by the moment, Cullen sat up a little straighter in annoyance and began to rub the knot in his shoulder.

'You really hate the nobility don't you?' I mused 'Not a fan of social climbers?'

With a stern face Cullen rose to meet my eyes. 'Tell me what chance do the people of Thedas have when it is filled with people like Josephine and Celene? Nobles. These vile creatures that leave children, women and men starving in the streets, while they ride by in their gilded carriages, more interested in assets than lives. The very people who stitch their rabbit trimmed boots and gowns, clean their chimneys and grow the very food that passes their teeth are the ones who are dying right in front of them. We live in this world where people are happy to turn a blind eye to the suffering while they chase idle pursuits of fancifulness. That is something I utterly abhor. How can we endure being apart of all this? Playing this damn game of politics with nobility. Hang them all.'

He turned to me with a teasing smile 'Of course, I forget that you are a noble so I should better stop now.'

'A Trevelyan with a Rutherford. How scandalous.' I replied haughtily 'Honestly though, I agree with you. Anyone who steps outside their front door can see the unfair divide between the rich and the poor, yet no one bats an eyelid. It is the way it has always been. I admit I was never exposed to the suffering out there, being a child from a noble family and then being locked away in the Circle, but since the Inquisition I've seen it in spades. The unfortunate truth is we need people like Josephine to win over the hearts of these rich bastards so we can have more influence, and hopefully, help more people for it.'

Cullen shrugged, not fully convinced 'I've seen how power plays out Ophelia. I saw it Kirkwall, and by the Maker I see it even more now in the Inquisition. We hope to make a difference, but let us take care not to fall into the game like everyone else. Treading over the peasants to get what we want.'. With a yawn and a stretch he added wearily 'I envy you. I never sleep before an expedition. Last night was no exception. You on the other hand could have snored through a blight!'

With a playful nudge under the sheets towards a smirking Commander, I ran my hands through my dishevelled hair. Frowning suddenly, I turned to my smiling bedfellow. 'You didn't sleep? You needed rest, especially since we're heading out today.'

'I relish the nights I can evade my dreams.' muttered Cullen 'Even if they are replaced with troubled thoughts and sleep deprivation.'

I could tell his mind was already filling with these thoughts, the woes of life that he spoke of already returning to him as he stared off into the distance with a detached expression, his amber eyes aloof. Mere echoes of his pain, a torment that never left him. How I wanted to take it away from him, but the more time I spent with Cullen I realised all too sadly that Cole had been right. The maddening terror that Cullen had been exposed to had become part of him, and there was no way to separate the man from the torment of his former reality. Cullen carried this weight on his shoulders, including the well being of his soldiers, and now it seemed he carried the troubles of the underprivileged across Thedas as well. It was a lot for one man to bear.

Reaching for his arm, I squeezed it gently. "Cullen? What is it?'

Propping himself to sit up, muscular bare arms outstretched and resting on his bare knees, he shook his head 'Nothing, just a feeling...'

'A feeling?' I remarked dubiously.

'When you've spent most of your life entertaining danger you tend to have a sense of these things.' he observed bitterly. Noticing my silence, Cullen turned to me with a softer expression 'I did not mean to worry you. I just want you to be careful on this trip.'

'Surely you don't think the Orlesians want me dead?' I replied uncertainly 'I never did anything to them.'

The Commander shrugged 'No one has my full trust. Perhaps you have yet to learn that.'

Oblivious to what Cullen was actually saying, and thankfully perhaps for my own feelings would have inevitably been hurt by such a comment, I replied defensively 'I don't trust everyone!'

'Says the most naive woman in Thedas.' scoffed Cullen 'Why I believe you would let Corypheus come to dinner at Skyhold if he promised to be on his best behaviour.'. With a deep laugh, quite amused, Cullen reached his large arms around me, pulling me up to his chest . 'My lady! Did I offend you?' he added with a chuckle 'It wasn't meant as a slight. I like that about you, truly.'

Rolling my eyes, I tried to evade his arms to no avail as he held me tight, enjoying to watch me struggle against him 'Sure, you like the naive fool that's running the Inquisition. I wonder if you would be so fond of the idiot if they were a man?'

Cullen grinned devilishly 'Are you saying I am only nice and accepting towards you for more sinister reasons Inquisitor?

'I don't doubt it Commander.' I accused, running my hands along his naked chest as he continued to chuckle.

'Perhaps there is an element of truth in that statement.' continued Cullen with amused eyes 'However I do recall a time, back in Haven, when we were not so intimately acquainted. A time when I saw you perhaps a little too fresh and inexperienced to fill the role of a leader, and perhaps a little doubt filled my mind. Actually a lot I confess. However your somewhat innocent, dare I say naive, faith has brought us further than I suspect even the most well experienced and sceptical leader could ever have done.'

'Thanks, I think?' I replied with a yawn.

'Don't tell me you're still tired!?' chortled Cullen.

'No I dreamt too deeply,' I muttered 'and I feel more tired for it now.'

'Corypheus?' remarked the Commander darkly.

'No.' I muttered, shaking my head as I recalled the dream that had disturbed me. 'There was this bird with brilliant scarlet feathers..always the same dream, again and again.'

The Commander raised an eyebrow in interest and I nodded.

'It's always the same. It's a grey morning, bleak and still, with not a whisper of a breeze on the air.' I continued 'I'm walking along a small creek, with small trees and shrubs on the banks, and clear water trickling over moss and stone. I'm not sure how long I walk. Hours? Days? it feels like I am walking forever down this river until I reach the edge of a cliff and the stream turns into a rushing waterfall. I look over the edge and the drop is deep, so deep I can barely see the water at the bottom. I turn to step away, and I am confronted by this shrieking large bird with scarlet feathers, wings outstretched and furious. The creature is so angry. I'm not sure why it scares me so much, but I'm terrified of it. It pushes me backwards and I fall over the cliff.'. I sighed with a shrug 'Perhaps I envy you for not sleeping last night.'

Easing back to lie down and rolling onto his stomach, resting on his elbows, the bed sheet pleasantly covering only the lower half of his buttocks, Cullen threw me a reassuring smile. 'I will be by your side this entire trip, and you must promise to stay close to me. Nothing will harm you, and Maker help any red birds that dare get in my way.' Leaning towards me, Cullen placed a soft kiss on my lips, lingering for a moment or two.

A relaxed sigh to my lips, I lay back down and stretched in comfort on the soft bedding of the four poster, as the ex-templar suddenly rolled on top of me with a grin, a thick and firm member brushing against my thigh.

'Why Commander, is this what you meant about me staying close to you?' I taunted, a grinning Cullen lowering his lips to my chest, revealing a loose mop of sandy tresses, before raising it once more.

'Surely you wouldn't deny me one last tryst before we set off?' he whispered lasciviously in a deep voice oozing with desire. 'Surely you wouldn't be that cruel?'

Cullen held a deviant smile on his lips, dark amber eyes smouldering as he lowered down my chest with soft kisses, travelling lower past my stomach with drawn out kisses and finally to my legs, kissing the soft skin of my upper inner thighs. Looking back up at me he teased my pink lips with his warm breath, the stubble on his jaw scratching me delightfully, and the light brushing of his mouth teasing me before finally running his tongue along the length of my clit. Arching my back, I began to writhe in pleasure.

'Yes.' growled Cullen between licks 'Make sure you stay close to me for the entirety of our trip and I'll be extremely happy.'

Lowering his mop of hair down once more, I ran my fingers through his soft tresses as he continued to devour me, swirling and sucking and lapping with great enthusiasm before retreating to meet me, face to face, once more. Cullen's cock was hard and prodded heavily between my thighs and up towards my entrance, finding it's familiar place and easing in thickly, producing a sigh from both our lips as his member moved slowly and deeply to the hilt.

'Just when I was enjoying fucking you in this rather comfortable bed, we must go back to tents again.' growled Cullen as he stayed inside for a moment looking down at me with lust as I adjusted to his girth.

'I'm sure you can find a back alleyway somewhere in Orlais for a change of scenery.' I taunted.

Pulling out again slowly, he pushed his hard cock back in more firmly with a grunt. The ex-templar rested his weight on his bulging arms and I had the pleasure of running my fingers across them and his chiselled abdomen and shoulders as he busied himself with more pressing matters producing moans from both our lips. His skin had become more tanned since spring, his arms, neck and chest more muscular from the extra training he had been doing with the wave of recruits that had flooded the gates since the Grand Tourney. The man was taut, sunkissed, and hard as stone.

The Commander grinned as his pushed harder into me, thrusting with more aggression now. The ex-templar liked it rough and to my delight it was never too long before his thrusts became unforgivingly straight to the point. My lips met his collar bone and playfully I bit him quite hard on the shoulder. Cullen moaned in pleasure.

'Wicked creature, I knew you'd enjoy that morning in Denerim when I took you against that wooden beam.' he growled 'You're not so sweet and innocent are you? Bite me again Inquisitor.'

Again I bit harder, feeling my teeth sink into his firm, warm tanned skin. Cullen twinged, and raising his hips higher began administering firm short fucks that reached deep inside.

'Who's the wicked one now?' I grinned, grabbing fistfuls of his sandy locks in torturous, blissful agony as I tried to hold my own composure.

'I'm your master.' murmured Cullen darkly as he wrapped his arms around my neck 'And you will surrender to me.'. Holding me firm, I could the tightness around my neck, loving his full control over me, as he continued to stare deeply into my eyes, fucking me, that wave of pleasure growing and growing, his strong arms holding me down firm before...

Knock, knock, knock.

'No ignore it.' groaned Cullen.

Knock, knock, knock

'Hey Inquisitor? Are you in there?' called out a deep dwarven voice.

With a grin, Cullen covered my mouth firmly with his hand, preventing me from answering, as he slowed his thrusting, evidently determined not to finish quickly in order to accommodate our guest on the other side of door. Reaching my hands down and around Cullen's torso, I grabbed his tight ass in both my hands and sunk my nails hard into his flesh while simultaneously biting his hand rather unforgivingly. Cullen yelled out quite loudly in surprise, foiling his attempt at silence, and I burst out laughing.

'You'll pay for that.' growled the ex-templar, bracing his arms and planting them firmly on either side of me, slowing down to short, sharp thrusts that used all his stamina and strength and pushed my whole body upwards quite aggressively as he began to fuck me as hard as he could. It was my turn to cry out as he impaled me, which turned into loud moans as Cullen unleashed himself on me. Refusing to let him get the upper hand, I lifted myself up to bite his chest, the sweet smell of his skin intoxicating me as his muscles tensed from the sensation of my teeth.

'Andraste's knicker weasels...' moaned Cullen, trying to stave off the inevitable high that he was reaching, his pace intensifying in a series of frenzied fucks. Teeth gnashing and grazing, I continue to penetrate his skin and with this act of pain his wildness was revealed, beads of sweat forming on his neck, veins throbbing with lust. His breath was heaving and his moans were loud as he felt me come hard around his cock.

Knock, knock, knock

'Inquisitor? Are you in there?' called out the voice again.

'Fuck off.' roared Cullen as he came hard, releasing himself deep inside.

Silence followed before the voice at the door replied uncertainly 'Ahhh it's rather important...Curly?'

The look on Cullen's face was priceless, furious and perplexed, hair wild and panting hard. I burst out laughing, and Cullen's scowl turned into amusement, raising an eyebrow curiously down to me.

'Andraste's knicker-what?' I teased.

With a deep laugh, Cullen shrugged as he withdrew himself and propped onto his knees, a wide smile on his lips 'I have no idea, but you can use that one whenever you want.'. Throwing a wink before jumping off the bed, Cullen grabbed the bed sheet to wrap around his waist as he marched to the door. No longer smiling, he wrenched the door open to be greeted by a smirking dwarf.

'Well well, if it isn't Curly in nothing but a bedsheet.' quipped an amused Varric with a smug grin 'I was actually hoping to find her Inquisitorialness? Is she about?'

'Can't this wait, Varric?'. The Commander shook his head, growing more impatient. Even in his bare skin, wrapped only in a sheet, Cullen's authoritative sternness was not diminished in the slightest.

'Believe me I wouldn't be here right now unless it couldn't wait.' chuckled Varric, eyeing the sheet with amusement.

'It's okay.' I called out to Cullen, hastily grabbing a sheet of my own to conceal my own bareness.

Cullen grinned as he watched me fumble with the oversized cloth, stumbling down the stairs and over to the door, ungraciously sidling up to him. Two guilty parties facing the worst possible witness; Skyhold's most enthusiastic pair of loose lips. Varric Tethras.

'Ah now kids, don't act so caught out.' dismissed Varric light heartedly 'Everyone in the keep knows about you two love birds. I'd be more surprised if Curly wasn't in here.'

'That's reassuring.' muttered Cullen.

Grinning at the Commander, I turned back to our guest. 'So what's so important Varric?'

'Ah.' replied the dwarf more seriously 'Well it's about your journey today. I'd like to tag along, if you don't mind?'

'You want to go to Orlais?' I remarked in surprise "Why?'

Cullen's eyes narrowed cynically. 'Precisely, why?'

'Why, Curly,' chuckled Varric 'your suspicion in me is flattering but unnecessary. I merely have a meeting lined up with a publisher in Val Royeaux. With you fine fold going there it's a prime opportunity to follow that up.'

'We're walking into a potential assassination attempt.' replied Cullen dryly 'You do realise this?'

'All the more reason for me and Bianca to come with you!' replied Varric cheerfully 'I'll wager any assassin will think twice before taking on our Orlesian Goldilocks with us by his side.'

Shrugging, I looked over to Cullen 'I don't see why not? Although this expedition is being run by you. It's your call.'

'Curly I will be forever in your debt if you say yes.' pleaded Varric 'I can't pass up an opportunity with this Orlesian paperhouse, and you know these folk never leave an invitation open for too long. Ah those Orlesians, frustrating bunch eh?'

'I wanted this expedition to be as small as possible, so as not to draw attention.' replied Cullen shortly.

'Well thank goodness I'm a dwarf then!.' quipped Varric 'Thanks heaps Curly, and thanks Inquisitorialness. I'll get my things and we'll be on our way. The soldiers are getting ready in the courtyard as we speak, so lets get a move on. Chop chop you two!'

With an amused nod, Varric turned and departed down the hall, a spring in his step as he whistled a tune out of sight.

'Funny, I don't recall actually saying yes to him coming along.' muttered Cullen, closing the door sharply.

'Yes Varric has a knack for doing that.' I grinned 'He swears I gave him full rights to write the official story of the Inquisition after this is all over. I still can't recall having that conversation with him.'

Cullen scoffed. 'If he is anything like the Varric I knew in Kirkwall, he has already written the damn thing, made a deal and this meeting is probably a book signing. He's probably been promised more coin if he can bring the Inquisitor and Commander along with him.'

'Perhaps we should read a copy of what he is planning to publish on the road?' I frowned.

'Maker's Breath, don't encourage him!' sighed Cullen 'I can't tell you how many copies of Hard in Hightown have mysteriously made its way onto the bookshelves in my study.'

'Oh yes you'll be hard pressed to find a book that isn't written by Varric in Skyhold' I added in jest 'Although between you and me, Cassandra is his number one fan of Swords and Shields.'

'And here I thought Cassandra was the most sensible of us all in Skyhold.' muttered Cullen shaking his head 'There's no hope for us now.'

Cullen growled as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a tender embrace, nuzzling his head to my neck 'I need to saddle my gear and weapons for the journey. You, regretfully, need to get dressed.'

Our lips met each other, a soft kiss leading into a deeper one. Cullen grinned as he pulled away reluctantly, his deep amber eyes filling mine.

'Andraste's knicker weasels...I must go.' he added playfully.

Rolling my eyes, I gave him a push away and Cullen scampered off with an amused chuckle, quickly pulling on his clothing that lay scattered at the base of the bed. The Commander passed once more with a cheeky slap and a peck on the cheek before descending the stairs humming a tune to himself as he moved out into the cold halls of Skyhold, ready to prepare for our departure to Val Royeaux.

The warm late morning sun of summer welcomed our departure with a clear blue sky overhead and a promising warm breeze predicting an even more promising day of travel. A small entourage of seven Inquisition soldiers, Varric, Cullen, Michel de Chevin and myself set off, bound for Orlais and whatever trouble was awaiting us at Val Royeaux. Leliana had sent several of her spies ahead, ready to offer aid once we reached the palace. However Cullen was not convinced they would be of any use and remained disgruntled.

Our Maister of Blades was unusually quiet along the narrow, windy path of the Frostback Mountains. In truth I felt sick to my stomach that we were forcing the Orlesian back to the home that had declared him a traitor and demanded his life. I was furious at Josephine for agreeing to this mediation without consulting the council. Even more so however I was furious for going along with it. My hands were tied, and so were Michel's.

I hadn't seen Michel de Chevin for a long time, not since the Skyhold Tourney itself, give or take a few days after the ceremony. At every chance we happened upon each other, even at the banquet afterwards, we never brought up that kiss. Not once. I knew there were things to be said but if I had been distant before, Michel de Chevin seemed to have now taken my cue and followed suit. Varric had already confirmed that my personal relationship with Cullen was common knowledge, and inevitably our ex-chevalier would now have been privy to that fact. Not that I considered Michel jealous or even interested. However he seemed more distant towards me, and I wondered whether that could have played a part in it?

In my own humble opinion, and upon many hours of painful reflection in my own miserable isolation after the Grand Tourney I had come to the sound conclusion that everything that had happened between the ex-chevalier and I had been nothing more than a grand gesture solely for the entertainment of the guests of the tournament. Unfortunately what made it awkward now was that Cullen was riding alongside us, like a strict ever watchful mentor, painfully aware of any exchange of conversation between Michel and I. I wasn't willing to reveal Cullen's somewhat justifiably jealous nature on this trip, and resided to an uncomfortable silence in its stead.

As a result of my deliberations on the matter, the Commander and the ex-chevalier led the entourage and shared more than a few deep discussions over our first day of the journey, leaving Varric and I lagging at the back end of the company of soldiers.

'This is terrible.' observed Varric in amused outrage 'I can't hear Curly or Goldilocks from back here. How about you?'

'Of course not, why would I care to listen to-' I began, before noticing Varric's raised eyebrow. Rolling my eyes, I sighed in frustration. 'Okay, I admit I can't hear a damn word either. I don't suppose we could overtake the soldiers and ride behind them without them noticing?'

'Oh yeah.' chuckled Varric 'I'm sure the two most talented warriors in all of Thedas won't hear the clumsy mage and dashing dwarf trotting up to eavesdrop behind them.'

'Cullen thinks I'm naive, and now you think I'm clumsy?!' I replied in outrage 'What a great dolt your Inquisitor has turned out to be. I should do you all a favour and run myself through with my blade.'

Varric laughed merrily 'Take off your armour first, I know a man in South Reach that would pay top coin for that.'

Rolling my eyes again, the dwarf playfully prodded me in the arm with his finger.

'Now now, we can't all be brave, brilliant rogues with outrageously good looks that would make even Ser Perth jealous. Seriously though, out with it. What did Curly do after the tournament?'. Varric added with a grin 'If I know our Commander he was probably more serious and gloomy than usual?'

'Something like that.' I muttered.

'Oh come on!' protested Varric 'Don't tell me you're not going to spill the beans even to your favourite dwarf!? You sulked away for weeks after the tournament, so much I reckon you gave the kid a run for his money.'

Chuckling, I nodded. 'Actually it caused Cole to sulk even more.'

'Out with it.' demanded Varric.

'Ok Cullen was furious,' I sighed 'and rightly so. That kiss at the tournament was for Thedas, not for me. Michel did it all for show. But Cullen didn't know that at the time.'

'I knew it!' exclaimed Varric gleefully 'If you could have seen Curly's face when Goldilocks planted one on you. Ha ha ha I swear that look could have killed a horde of darkspawn. So he was angry at you, and I'm guessing...' Varric nudged his reins towards Michel '..Goldilocks over there?'

'Let's just say he wasn't a fan of our Maister of Blades on the day. I don't know if Cullen spoke to Michel about it.'. With a frown, my attention turned to where the men were talking amongst themselves at the front of the line. 'They appear to be on ok terms now I suppose?'

'Ah well, it seems things worked out for the best.' replied Varric, pausing with a smug grin 'So...her Inquisiitorialness and the Commander?'

A smile curled on my lips. Hearing that being said out in the open felt good and I liked people knowing Cullen and I were together despite Cullen's preferred secrecy on the matter. When I wasn't frustrated with the man, I wanted to sing it from the rooftops. Then again, it seemed everyone already knew and most likely would just tell me to shut up.

'Is there anything in particular that you want to know Varric?' I replied in amusement.

'Why Inquisitor, I would never pry into the affairs of others!' mused Varric 'I'm just perplexed as to how our naive and clumsy mage managed to end up with the most serious Commander in all of Thedas.'

'Oh thanks, now I'm unworthy!' I replied defensively in jest, although perhaps there was a little truth in it. Truth be told I often had wondered the same thing. Why me?

'Now hold up,' remarked Varric more seriously 'I didn't mean you're unworthy. You're great, kid. It's just..well, how do I say this? Look I knew Curly in Kirkwall and he's not the guy I would have ever picked to have fallen for a mage. As in ever. '

'I think he surprised even himself' I replied with a shrug 'I'm under no illusion as to his true opinion of mages. He hates them.'

Varric shook his head. 'Ah now, don't be too hasty. You'd be surprised how one person can make you change your whole opinion on things like that. Like magic. Hawke is a mage and I remember thinking when I first met him- oh shit, why am I inviting this kind of trouble down into the Deep Roads with us? Bartrand was enough to contend with! Ahhh but by the end Hawke showed me that magic wasn't to be feared. No, it was the person who held magic in their hands that makes it good or downright terrible. I soon learned some mages, like Hawke, were good sorts and used their magic to help others. Then again, that damn Blondie...'

'Blondie?' I puzzled.

'Anders.' muttered Varric 'Bloody Anders. You know, the one that blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall and pretty much ruined everything and sealed you mages with a reputation as nothing but evil for eternity.'

With a grimace, I nodded. 'Ah him. Is he truly a bad person? I mean, wasn't Hawke with him?'

'Well that's a good example of love blinding one partner to the other's fucking insanity.' muttered the dwarf with a shake of his head. 'Blondie wanted freedom for mages, and Hawke knew he was passionate about it. Heck we all got an earful of Blondie's shit. We never thought Anders was capable of blowing up the chantry. Hawke loved that idiot so much that even when he was faced with what Blondie had done, Hawke still fought by his side to the very end and ran away with him. That's how loyal Hawke is. True to the end, no matter the cost. You see? It's not magic that makes you the person you are, it's all about your actions. Curly knows that. He's gotta or he wouldn't be shaking sheets with you.'

'I think that's harder for Cullen to acknowledge after his time in Ferelden and then Kirkwall.' I frowned grasping the reins tighter in frustration. 'He's been through a lot of shit.'

'I didn't know Curly well back in Kirkwall but I can tell you this much. The Knight-Captain Cullen I knew in Kirkwall is nothing like Commander Cullen of the Inquisition.'

'What do you mean?' I asked, intrigued by his meaning.

Varric laughed. 'Heck the Cullen I saw this morning at your door is alive compared to the frustrated templar I knew back in Kirkwall. The one that stood second in command to that nutbag Meredith. You could tell Curly was dealing with some heavy shit back then, he looked pretty damn deflated every time Hawke and I came across him. Real good guy but with the weight of the world on his shoulders, know what I mean? But now? Now he's helping others, and leading the soldiers, heck he even jokes sometimes. I dunno about you, but if I had to guess I would say he may have even eased up on his opinions of mages a bit.'

With a small smile to myself I nodded in appreciation 'Thank you Varric.'

'The way I see it, Cullen ended up with the best naive and clumsy mage in all of Thedas.' added the dwarf with a grin 'Come on, I think we can squeeze our way a bit further up the line. Maybe hear a word or two of gossip along the way, eh? I need some more material for my book.'

'What!?' I asked suspiciously.

'Nothing!' replied Varric hastily 'Come on, there's a gap over there between those soldiers.'

Exchanging nods, we continued the day's journey. For my part it was more light-hearted and fancy free than I had felt for a long, long time.


	12. An Act Unforgivable

After everything I went through, from the explosion at the conclave, to Corypheus and my certain demise at Haven. Of the rejection of my family when they found out I was a mage, to the isolation and loneliness at The Circle at which I was raised. To have never felt loved or cared for, alone and miserable in a world that I didn't belong in. For the times I looked down to see the blood of the dead, red on my hands, that I scrubbed and scrubbed yet never came off. For all the days I woke up wishing I could fade away and cease to be, and for all the time I spent in sadness and despair, nothing made me feel like you did.

For good and for worse, you made me feel both, and for that I love you…and I hate you.

We awoke on the second morning of our travel to Orlais a little less cheerful, with a thick fog shrouding our camp site heavily. After a lot of cursing on the weather depriving us of a cooked breakfast and damning the marshy terrain of the south coast of the Waking Sea, the Inquisition entourage finally set off and was on the Imperial Highway. The sun finally came out again from behind the clouds and moral was lifted once more as we headed towards Halamshiral.

I decided to take the lead that morning, eager to ride a little faster to our destination. This nervousness would never diminish until we left Orlais with Michel breathing and in one piece, so it was better to meet Empress Celene as soon as we could. As strange as it sounded, I felt entirely responsible for this journey. Michel had come to serve the Inquisition in good faith, and we had failed him miserably. Why did I feel like I had betrayed Michel de Chevin?

'It has turned out to be remarkable day!' observed a pleasant Orlesian voice riding up from behind me. Even as he marched to his possible death, nothing ever seemed to dampen the ex-chevalier's spirits. Michel de Chevin's blue eye's sparkled as he rode alongside, a small smile on his lips as he met my eyes.

'Yes very remarkable.' I replied awkwardly, casting my gaze nervously across overgrown thicket and waist high grass on either side of the path. 'I thought it would have rained last night. But it didn't rain, so that is good? Doesn't look like its going to rain today either. Well except those clouds over there.'

Michel grinned at me silently, apparently amused at my odd remarks. 'Yes I suppose rain is a possibility.' he acknowledged politely.

With a sigh, I knew he deserved more than fake observations about the weather. 'Michel, I'm so sorry about this whole trip. You need to know our main objective, our only objection, is to see your through this mediation safe. We will never leave your side, not for a moment. You have my word.'

Michel nodded sagely as if he had heard this speech several times before now. 'Commander Cullen had assured me of this. For both of his and your concern, I am grateful. Please do not feel remorse for this situation I know face. I understand why this must be done, and at the end of the day who else's fault is it if not my own?'

'I hope you're not residing to your fate.' I warned 'You're one of us now, and an important member of the Inquisition. We stick by our own.'

Michel chuckled sadly 'I don't think Empress Celene will care for such things unfortunately. But fair not, I don't intend to be assassinated on this trip. I do not go to my death Ophelia, I assure you I have not resided to that in this trip. I want to live. You and the Inquisition and the people in it. You have given me the passion of life.'

'Passion of life?'

'The will to live. A purpose.' replied Michel with a pride that seemed to be bursting from his heart as he spoke of it. 'My life is dear to me for I have nearly lost it once. You never truly appreciate something until it is taken away from you. You set me on a new direction and gave me another chance at an honorable life. When I was called out to greet the people of Ferelden after the tournament, in my new title as Maister of Blades, I was met with so much hope. The people were uplifted because of the Inquisition. They were not fearful as they had been before for now they held a united purpose. I never realised it before but the most important thing a leader can give it's people is hope. They have this, Ophelia. They have it now. Corypheus is a terrible threat and instead of running away they wish to stay and fight because they fight for the common cause, and they fight under the one united banner that seeks to serve them. We serve the people and the people in turn serve each other instead of fighting each other. Strip down the pomp and ceremony in Orlais and all you'll find is noble fighting noble for land and title. Here there is honour, and I shall not let Orlais take that away from me or the Inquisition.'

I breathed a heavy sigh, one of relief. It was easy to be drowned by the constant barrage of tasks presented by the war council and forget that we were making such a difference to so many lives. There was hope yet.

We rode on in silence for a while, the winding trail running along a cluster of apple trees on both sides. The sweet blossoms lingered in the air, and we relished the serenity of the moment. Walking into the lions den somehow didn't see so daunting when summer was all around, with the sun shining down and the birds twittering happily in the trees above.

'I fear I owe you an apology Ophelia.' observed Michel quietly, eyes shifting to make sure no one was listening. 'At the tournament when I kissed-'

'No, no there's nothing to apologise for.' I replied nervously 'I understand it was for show and honestly the crowd enjoyed it.'

A broad smile on his chiselled jaw, Michel nodded bashfully 'Yes I confess I enjoyed it myself.'. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I looked away. With a more serious face he added 'I did not think of how it would affect you and...other people. '

'Other people?' I remarked in slight confusion before it dawned on me 'Oh, you mean Cullen?'

Michel nodded silently, appearing remorseful. 'I think I would have rethought my actions on that day had I known you were involved with my Commander.'

Feeling guilty, I looked away.

'Oh do not think I blame you,' added Michel quickly 'that is not what I meant. It is none of my business naturally, I just felt an apology was owing to you and to him. I have so much respect for you both. I would never want either of you to think I come here to the Inquisition to offer insult and disregard.'

The ex-chevalier's brutal honesty made for awkward conversation, and I bit my lip trying to think of a way to lighten it once more and focus on other things. Michel however didn't seem so keen to do the same.

'The code of courtly love frowns upon my actions, and I must too.' added Michel as he rode ahead from me 'As the saying goes...

They dare not love, although eyes betray  
Two unspoken souls who cannot say  
What the heart may feel, for it shall be concealed  
Only to be betrayed once more by their eyes, revealed

With a frown, I watched the man ride on ahead, his riddle going through my head. In those hazy moments I struggled to grasp his meaning, yet I had no time to process the words for the moment was stolen from me and replaced with a sickening scream. It's strange how terror unfolding in the moment feels like an eternity played out.

My eyes flashed forward to Michel falling sideways from his horse, a blur of steel collapsing to the ground, everything in slow motion. The dull sound of his body hitting the ground reached my ears and yet before I knew what was happening Cullen had overtaken me on his horse and dismounted with a few of the other soldiers in tow. They knelt around Michel de Chevin, who was screaming in agony, his body twisted and contorted like a gnarled branch from the old black oak tree outstretched above us.

'Michel, Michel!' yelled out Cullen as he held the ex-chevalier firmly by the shoulders 'What is it? Tell me where it hurts? Talk to me!'

The Commander looked worried, his eyes searching across the body of his companion who was moaning in agony and unable to speak. A few of the soldiers had begun to remove his armour, and Varric came forward with a flask to offer to Michel's lips. Writhing around, the honey coloured liquid trickled somewhat in his mouth and down his chin before Michel spat out the remainder in a hiss. His body fell into stillness before a dark laugh came from his lips, a deep and horrid laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. From the look on the faces of the soldiers, they were too unnerved, dropping the armour suddenly before them and stepping back.

'Michel...Michel…ahhh I feel you now.' spoke Michel in a sing-song voice, holding his arms out and studying them with great interest.

'Commander.' exclaimed one of the soldiers, pointing to the ex-chevalier in horror 'His eyes.'

Stepping away from Michel, Cullen retreated back slowly. 'Soldiers keep your position a few paces back.' instructed Cullen calmly, holding his arm to my direction although not turning his sight from Michel. 'You stay back.' he warned me.

Frozen in my tracks, I couldn't tear my sight from the bright white eyes of Michel now studying the party surrounding him. It was evident that something more sinister had happened to Michel than him merely falling from his horse. He look...possessed.

'Michel, talk to me.' called out Cullen sternly 'How can we help you?'

Michel began to laugh again wildly 'I'm sorry but Michel is no longer here to be helped. I am Imshael, and I have missed my dear, dear chevalier for quite some time. Orlesian bodies are soooo delicious!'

Varric and I cast frantic eyes to each other as we both recognised the name and realised what had happened.

'Imshael is a demon' I warned Cullen 'Michel was hunting him in Emprise du Lion. We thought we had killed him on that trip.'

Michel narrowed his white eyes and held his attention upon me now 'You..' he hissed '..foul wench, your pathetic magic CANNOT KILL ME! Now I have returned to claim what is mine!'

Cullen unsheathed his blade, the sting of metal ringing as he drew it, followed by the sound of the other soldiers drawing their own weapons.

'Michel has been possessed.' warned Cullen to his soldiers 'There is only once course of action. Stand ready.'

'Ready for what?' I blurted out hastily as the soldiers held a strong circle around Michel. My words appeared to fall on deaf ears. 'Cullen, what course of action? What are you doing?'

'Ha ha ha ha!' cried out Imshael in delight as he looked around the circle, hissing at the soldiers. 'Yes please do tell what we are preparing ourselves to do?'. He growled and snapped like a beast at a few of the soldiers, whose weapons trembled in their hands.

'Trevelyan you need to stay back and let us do this.' warned Cullen sternly, his eyes fixated on the ex-chevalier. 'This is not Michel de Chevin anymore. This is a demon and we need to kill it.'

'You cannot kill me, you fool!' snarled Imshael 'Oh but I can kill you. I can kill you all. I will enjoy doing that before I devour Michel's soul and take his body for my own. He's still in here but not for long.'

'So he's in there still?' I yelled 'Prove it.'

'I don't follow orders from parasites.' hissed Imshael 'He is here and so am I.'

'You're not leaving here with Michel's body.' Cullen replied angrily 'You're a demon and you will be destroyed right here.'. The ex-templar stood firmly, as still as a statue, focused and attentive towards the demon, his giant steel longsword secure in his hands.

'Now, now Commander I only want to return to this delightful realm once more.' insisted Imshael nonchalantly 'I confess Michel is not what I want to claim. I want only my freedom. You can have him back now if you like, unharmed and alive, but I need a mage to perform the release. If not, I will sadly have to take Michel with me as my host.'

'What release?' I asked hastily, unable to tear my eyes from the twisted body of Michel. If something could be done, surely I had to try?

'We do not make deals with demons.' growled Cullen in a threatening tone.

Imshael shrugged 'Have it your way, although if you don't release me I will leave Michel's body as soon as I gain my strength and can find another host. He will die when I do this. If you do not cast this spell, Michel will die.'

Dismounting my horse, I started to take a few steps towards the group, trembling as I did. 'What spell can release him?'

'Stay back Inquisitor.' barked Cullen 'This has nothing to do with you!'

'If we can save Michel then-' I began in protest.

'He's a fucking demon!' roared Cullen furiously, his eyes wild and angry as he turned to me for a split second 'You need to keep quiet Trevelyan. That's an order!'

Imshael began laughing again 'Oh Commander, the mage knows as well as I do that a demon can be removed from a host safely with one small spell. Of course they don't teach it in your Circles I imagine.'

'Blood magic.' warned Varric, Bianca aimed straight at Michel 'Ophelia trust me, I have seen enough of this go reeeealllly wrong. Kid, it's not a good idea.'

'Michel deserves for us to try at least.' I protested 'You can't leave him to be possessed by this monster!'

'Saxon, Mavers.' ordered Cullen 'Take the Inquisitor far away from here and bind her arms. I don't want her performing any magic'

Knowing a serious order when they heard one, the men started towards me.

'Cullen please!.' I cried out 'Let me try to save Michel! We owe it to him! Do not let him die!'.

'Take her away now for fucks sake!' roared Cullen furiously.

Darting my eyes frantically towards the men, I knew I had to make a decision then and there. Beside me Varric was nervously looking me, as if he anticipated what was about to happen.

'Think about this Ophelia.' Varric warned softly 'You could risk killing us all. Michel wouldn't want you to risk everyone's lives like this.'

'Varric that demon will kill us all if I don't do this!.' I argued fearfully 'The only way we managed to rid of him last time was because I had Vivienne's magic with me. He'll kill us all if Cullen tries to attack him. We'll all be dead, including Michel.'

The men were half a meter before me and without further thought I drew my hand into a large orb, a clear pulsating ball of energy emerging in a flash, rotating as I threw it to the ground, it's energy spilling over the ground as I yelled out the words L'ariber Forte Esq Quendium Too'gwa'uah. The orb spread out and Varric first collapsed to the ground beside me, followed by Saxon and Mavers before me. In the distance I saw Cullen fall heavily on the path, his sword discarded next to his body and his eyes closed. Every person in the party was asleep, a rather powerful spell stealing their consciousness for a short while.

Michel was now laughing in hysterics 'Ha ha ha oh dear, oh dear! Guess who's going to be in trouble when your friends wake up?!'

'We don't have long.' I warned, stepping closer to Michel's body. 'Tell me what blood magic I can do to release Michel.'

'Why should I help you?' growled Imshael 'You are nothing to me, wench.'

'If you do I swear I'll never send anyone out to banish you.' I assured 'You'll be free to go into the realm once more. I swear.'

'Bah! I'll be long gone before you can send anyone after me.' replied Imshael.

'Maybe' I continued hastily, knowing I didn't have long before the soldiers would wake 'But what happens after a few months and years pass. You will make yourself known, like you did in Emprise Du Lion, intentional or not, and when that day happens I promise the Inquisition will protect you. You can stay in this realm forever.'

Michel grinned darkly 'Forever is a long time. Swear it to be and you shall be bound. Swear it!'

'I swear it.' I replied hastily 'Now hurry up.'

'Then it is done.' observed Imshael.'Now cut your palm deep, and let the blood pour over Michel's face.'

Unsheathing a dagger at my thigh, I ran the blade with a stinging slice against my left palm. An ice cold pain seared into my flesh as I clenched the wound in my fist, letting the crimson droplets fall onto the pale Orlesian's grinning face.

'Mmmmm.' moaned Imshael. 'Now repeat after me Ard Go 'eth Rened Moorg, Valama Fiest Valama Norsk.'

'Ard Go 'eth Rened Moorg, Valama Fiest Valama Norsk.' I repeated quickly.

A howling shriek emitted from Michel's body, twisting and convulsing as a dark plume of smoke erupted from his mouth. It was Imshael. The smoke rapidly descended into the air above the oak tree, higher and higher past dark and twisted branches and lea. Imshael had escaped and was now free in the realm.

Falling to my knees, I grabbed Michel's limp body in my arms, cradling his chest in my lap. His eyes were shut and the man was unresponsive.

'Michel, Michel.' I cried out fearfully 'Are you in there? Please be in there still.'

A sudden gasp of air, Michel's bright blue eyes flashed open in terror before closing again, and he began moaning to himself.

'No. No. No. Noooo...' he cried out as if dreaming a terrible nightmare 'No, no, nooo...'

'It's okay Michel.' I whispered, noticing my hands shaking uncontrollably as I tried to hold the bloodied ex-chevalier. Shock was setting in as I felt myself grow cold as ice. With a short breaths, my attention drew away from the wailing ex-chevalier to the stirring of bodies on the ground close by. Cullen and the soldiers had began to wake from the spell. Moans and coughs sounded from the stiff bodies waking up once more.

My eyes darted fearfully from Michel to Cullen, Cullen to Michel, and finally locked onto Cullen as he picked himself off the ground. With a stoney face his amber eyes pierced mine, deathly cold as he looked down at me, a hardness that pierced me and filled me with dread as he approached Michel and I.

'What have you done?' asked Cullen in disgust, looking at the blood covered Michel and then down to my bleeding palm. The Commander was mortified, unable to fathom what was before. 'You performed blood magic?'

Utterly ashamed, I could see how revolted the ex-templar was. Cullen looked down at me the same way he had done to the demon Imshael, and it made my heart grow heavy.

Michel continued to moan 'No, no, no, nooooo.' and the soldiers began to surround, anger in their faces as they looked upon me.

'You made us fall asleep when a demon was at us.' accused on the soldiers. 'You tried to kill us.'

'No.' I replied defensively 'I was trying to help you.'

The Commander shook his head in disbelief. He was disgusted beyond words.

Hastily I stood up, backing away from the party towards the clearing of the meadow. 'I saved Michel, I had no other choice.' I explained desperately 'He would have died. You all would have died.'

'Soldiers, detain the Inquisitor so she can be taken back to Skyhold to be tried for blood magic.' ordered Cullen coldly, his furious eyes never leaving mine. 'Be careful she does not try to cast magic on us again.'

'What?!' I exclaimed in outrage 'You're going to arrest me?! I saved you all! You should be thanking me!'

'I should kill you here on the spot for doing what you just did!' roared Cullen furiously. 'You put us all at risk and have used outlawed magic. Consider this a courtesy, Inquisitor.'

'I didn't kill anybody.' I yelled back angrily, backing away from the soldiers 'You were no match for Imshael. I had no choice. Don't you see he was too powerful for you all?!'

'You made a deal with a demon, performed blood magic and attacked the members of the Inquisition.' yelled Cullen as he pointed at me in accusation 'You are a traitor and a blood mage, and will be tried accordingly by the people of the Inquisition. Now arrest her!'

'Curly, uhhhh maybe we should talk about this?' called out Varric nervously, looking over to me with a nudge of his head, as if encouraging me to get the hell out of there.

'Quiet Varric.' shouted Cullen.

I threw my eyes upon Cullen one last time, taking in his anger and fury. It was shocking to behold. Not even an echo of his tenderness towards me remained. He looked upon me as I imagined he would have at a blood mage in Kirkwall. I knew what had to be done. Hastily drawing my shaking hands outstretched to the sky, I mumbled a few words and an orb of invisibility surrounded me.

'Blast it, she's put on an invisibility cloak. Find her!.' ordered Cullen, drawing his arms out to cast a dispel magic to the area. A blue orb exploded from Cullen's hands, expanding around him but it was too late for I had already fled to the trees and didn't intend to stop running for all that my life was worth.

In times like this a mage's worst enemy was a templar and I knew I had to escape him if I wanted to remain free.

What did it matter?

I asked myself this question for hours and hours as I stumbled aimlessly through the wild swampy marshland of Orlais, mud splattered and bracken cutting my legs, dead branches scratching my arms, tears pouring wildly down my cheeks. Cullen had broken my heart and destroyed my faith, and I was nothing but a broken vessel of misery, despair and ruin.


	13. Bitter The Parting

A new dawn rising over the misty-grey Frostback Mountains greeted the ex-templar on horseback. Wearily leading a second horse behind him, a pale ex-chevalier was slumped over the beast, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes the Orlesian screamed out in pain, as if his mind tormented him with some terrifying image, while other times he remained catatonic for hours on end, a blank and aloof expression etched on his face. And at the back of the party an even quieter lone dwarf travelled behind the two men on a third horse, silent as the grave as he followed on.

On the orders of the Commander, the seven soldiers of the Inquisition entourage had remained in Orlais and were directed to scout the area of Halamshiral and surrounding woodlands to locate the escaped Inquisitor. While the search commenced, Commander Cullen, Michel de Chevin and Varric Tethras had ridden straight through the night, desperate to bring the frail Orlesian back to the safety of Skyhold. With quickened hooves and a desire to be rid of the Imperial Highway, they had finally made it back onto the trail of Gherlen’s Pass, winding it’s way around the craggy mountain back to Skyhold.

The party had ridden in silence ever since they had set off the afternoon before, the night on frozen horseback not chilling their bones as much as the memory of what had just passed. The horror of Imshael had not diminished, especially whenever they heard a bloodcurdling scream pass from their Maister of Blade’s lips. It left a heavy churning in their guts and a shiver across their skin.

‘Uhhh-no! No. No...nooo!!!!’ wailed Michel as he began moaning again, his eyes drifting shut and slumping over the neck of his brown mare.

‘Maybe we should stop?’ observed a worried Varric ‘He’s not looking so good.’

Cullen turned to check on the Orlesian, his amber eyes examining Michel uneasily. 

‘What do you expect?’ observed Cullen darkly ‘He’s been possessed by a demon.’

Taking cue, Varric continued hastily, eager to encourage any conversation after an entire trip devoid of any communication. ‘Well, even more reason to let him rest for a while by a fire, the man’s as pale as a ghost. And freezing. Curl-...Commander, come on, just for a short rest.’

'Fine.' replied Culled tiredly 'We could all use some rest.'

With a clenched jaw and unforgiving frown, Cullen turned off the trail to lead the horses to a small cluster of pine and fir trees at the edge of the rocky path. Body aching from the cold armour encasing his body, Cullen dismounted his black steed heavily, the stones crunching hard under his feet as he moved over to Michel to help him off his horse. The ex-chevalier slumped forward over Cullen’s shoulder, his blonde hair spilling over the black feather gorget as the Commander carried his companion onto a soft patch of grass.

A concerned looking Varric quickly gathered pinecones and twigs to make a fire, casting his eyes over to Michel and Cullen every now and then in nervous agitation.

‘We should talk about what happened.’ began Varric hesitantly after a few moments of silence passed, already anticipating the negative response his words would be met with.

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’ replied Cullen icily. He appeared unwilling to acknowledge what had happened and preoccupied himself by adding more sticks to the fire to encourage the flames. ‘You were there yourself, you saw what happened.’

The rogue nodded. ‘Okay, well I can tell you what I saw, but I’m guessing it might not be the same as what you may have seen?’

Flashing his furious eyes to the dwarf, Cullen glared at Varric angrily. ‘Don’t you dare try to justify her actions. Not now, not ever. I'm well aware of your sympathies towards blood mages.’

Varric looked annoyed at that comment but refused to retreat. ‘Well someone’s gotta have her best interests in mind.’ he replied shortly ‘Call me crazy, but I could have sworn it would have been you Curly.’

‘Blood magic is blood magic, Varric.’ barked Cullen, the shadows of the pine trees covering him in a shroud of darkness as his face danced with the light of the flame. ‘It’s evil to the core, a rotten and corrupt practice, and she did it. She put all our lives at risk. Yours and mine included. She turned on us and got that demon to aid her.’. Cullen ran a shaking hand to some loose leaves beside him, throwing some onto the crackling fire ‘She is just another maleficar....that is all she is.’

‘Bullshit!.’ replied Varric hotly, refusing to accept Cullen's assessment. ‘She did one spell, one spell, to save Michel’s life. Heck to save all of our lives. You weren’t there in Emprise du Lion when we dealt with this Imshael demon. He was powerful, so damn powerful that we barely walked out of the ruins alive. Ophelia knew this, and she knew you were about to be slaughtered if you tried to take him on.’

‘So she puts us all to sleep and goes along with the demon’s plan? Is trusting a demon the better choice?! He could have turned on her in a second and then killed us all while we fucking slumbered VARRIC!’ roared Cullen ‘One spell. One spell of blood magic is all is takes for these mages. Just one. We don’t know what in the blazes happened when we were all passed out. For all we know this Imshael has now taken over the body of the Inquisitor. He could still be in Michel de Chevin. Don’t you see? You cannot trust demons, it only takes one to cause horrific pain, death and suffering to everyone around them.’

‘You’re not even listening.’ replied Varric heatedly ‘She did it to save you!’

‘Then she’s a bigger fool than I gave her credit for.’ snarled Cullen ‘She knew the one thing I would never abide was blood magic, not even for my life. Especially not for that.’

‘You’re not thinking straight.’ appealed Varric, tugging at his gold neck chain in frustration. ‘Ophelia didn’t cast blood magic because she is some maleficar, or even because she wanted to. She did it because she loves you and she didn’t want you to be killed by that asshole demon, or Michel, or me and the rest of your soldiers. That is why she went along with the spell. The girl is that much in love with you she was willing to taint her very self to keep you alive, heck to keep everyone alive! And yet you stand here and curse her and claim she is a maleficar? That’s just pure and utter shit.’

Varric stood up from the fire, kicking the dirt as he paced in anger at a distance while the Commander frowned into the flames in silence. 

‘She made a deal.’ moaned Michel, deep blue eyes slowly opening in a dazed awakening. Peaky, pale and shivering, he weakly struggled to sit himself up as Varric and Cullen turned their eyes to the frail Orlesian. After a night of travelling, it was the first time Michel had gained full consciousness, let alone uttered a coherent word.

Cullen quickly withdrew a flask of water from his hip and offered it up to the ex-chevalier’s lips, who accepted it willingly.

‘What deal?’ asked Cullen after Michel had had his fill of liquid ‘What deal are you talking about Michel?’

The Orlesian shook his head, hunched over he rested his arms on his knees, cradling his chest as the memories came flooding back. ‘I remember everything.’ he shuddered ‘Imshael was in control of my body...as if he filled every part of me...but I remember. Ophelia made a deal for Imshael to release me.’

‘She what?’ replied a mortified Cullen, bringing his hands up through his hair in frustration ‘She made a deal? She made a FUCKING DEAL!!?!’. Eyes wild and bloodshot, the ex-templar lunged for an nearby fir tree, ramming his fist as hard as he could into the coarse trunk, the branches from the very top shaking violently and spilling needle-like leaves and scattered cones onto the ground. Over and over, the ex-templar pounded the tree, his fury relentless and splinters flying, until his fist was red, raw and bloody, crimson droplets falling onto the dirt.

The party remained uneasily silent until finally, Cullen had finished his assault, and sat back down on the ground in defeat.

'She was only trying to help.' muttered Varric, shaking his head at Cullen. 'She wasn't doing it for any other reason.'

‘What was the deal?’ Cullen asked flatly, ignoring the dwarf. 

‘Protection from the Inquisition.’ replied Michel hesitantly ‘Indefinitely.’

The Commander was shocked. ‘Protecting a demon? Has she gone utterly mad? Why would she agree to that?’

Michel looked miserable, eyes shifting away from the furious attention of the ex-templar. ‘She did it to save me. ‘Imshael knew the spell to release me, and he asked Ophelia what she would give him if he agreed to help. She promised that the Inquisition would protect him in the realm if he agreed to release me. Forgive me Commander, this is my fault. I am so sorry.’

‘Ah heck you weren’t to know a demon would possess you.’ dismissed Varric ‘Just like Ophelia wasn’t to know.’. The dwarf threw an accusing look at a scowling Cullen. 'I'll say it until the cows come home Curly. She's innocent here.'

‘Why would she trust that thing?’ asked Cullen in disgust ‘Why would she risk the lives of hundreds, thousands, maybe more, for the sake of-’

‘One life.’ muttered Michel sadly ‘I wish you would have struck me down then and there. She had no right to release Imshael back into the realm.’

‘Exactly.’ agreed Cullen savagely, looking over to Varric in anger.

‘She tried to talk to you about it and you shut her down.’ retorted Varric furiously ‘Or have you forgotten that you ordered her to be bound while she was trying to discuss the situation? Who the heck says that?’

‘We don’t make deals with demons!’ declared Cullen sternly ‘She knew there was nothing to be discussed.’

‘He’s right Varric.’ croaked Michel ‘My death is nothing to what she has now unleashed back into the realm.’

‘You arseholes.’ spat Varric ‘The girl has sacrificed every part of her being to this wretched cause. She's sacrificed a heck of a lot more for you both to remain alive. You think she didn't realise that demon could have possessed her? Murdered her? Of course she did! But she tried to help anyway.’. He stopped to cast his brown eyes darkly at the two men ‘And the moment things go pear shaped you both point the finger at her and condemn her, as if she's some evil monster. She was trying to help.’

‘Good intentions don’t excuse blood magic.’ argued Michel ‘Ophelia trusted a demon, and cast a spell that he instructed her to cast. Imshael could have been instructing her to do anything.’

The dwarf shrugged ‘Well shit, it worked didn’t it?’

‘Imshael could be murdering an entire village as we speak.’ observed Michel fearfully ‘Women, children, and men…all slaughtered. I’ve seen him do it before. Don’t you see Varric? My life was not worth it.’

‘Well to her it was worth it!’ reproached Varric ‘Fine. So maybe she didn’t think it through, but maybe the alternative would have been the same? Imshael would have killed us all and he’d be killing a village via your body at the moment.’

‘Or we could have banished him by running a blade through Michel.’ muttered Cullen, producing an nod in agreement from the Orlesian.

‘So what now then?’ asked Varric tiredly, throwing his hands up in defeat. ‘What are you going to do? Hunt her down and murder her? Imprison her for life? What is it that you want since you both seem incapable of letting this go?’

‘That will be up to the council,’ remarked Cullen testily ‘but there will be a trial no doubt. We’ll find her soon, she is easily recognisable. Of course we still need her to seal breaches, and aid with bringing down Corypheus. However she will likely be a prisoner of the Inquisition now, I can’t see any way around that.’

‘Prisoner?’ Varric shook his head, getting up in sudden disgust. As swift as he could, the dwarf mounted his horse before turning back to the men who were still sitting by the fire.

'Varric it's not safe travelling alone on this path at night, come sit down.' muttered Cullen.

The dwarf scoffed at the observation. 'If it's a choice to hang out with you judgemental pricks or be eaten by wolves, I'm choosing the latter.'

'Fine.' replied Cullen, unwilling to entertain the dwarf.

‘If there’s one good thing that comes out of all of this,’ observed Varric bitterly ‘it’s that Ophelia has finally managed to rid herself of someone as cold hearted as you. Shit Curly, you’re not a templar anymore but you sure do act like the mage hating bastard we all came to love back in Kirkwall.’. Varric cast his eyes to Michel in reproach. ‘And you, ex-chevalier. Ophelia gave you another chance at an honourable life, and then saved your damn life. What have you given back to her except judgement and disapproval? Some champion, eh?’

With a kick of his heels Varric galloped off along the path towards Skyhold, leaving the two men alone in their pursed lipped silence. For all the truth in Varric’s words, both were blinded by their pride, a pride that even Imshael in that moment would have been fiercely proud of.

****

There were many strange things about living at The Ostwick Circle Tower growing up as a mage. However the most memorable thing that I recall from a somewhat stifled childhood in a dreary tower full of ancient texts and long winded lessons was the study of our first enchanter, Aard Tarnias.

In this particular study, which was perched at the very top of the Ostwick Circle, there resided a bird cage; a beautiful green metal cage that twisted and twirled like wild, growing ivy and oft reminded me of something the Dalish might have crafted. In this wondrous cage resided one large white bird with soft downy feathers on its breast. Often I would wonder why a mage, already caged in the world and therefore somewhat empathetic to such things, would choose to do the same to another creature. However I would always examine that bird with great interest whenever I found myself in the study of First Enchanter Tarnias, and dearly wished I could unlatch the cage and let it be free. I would imagine the bird spreading it's feathery white wings and fly out through the arch window of the study, never looking back as it soared higher and higher into the sky, a gift of freedom that would never be taken away from it ever again.

As I wandered the wild swamp lands of Orlais after fleeing Cullen and the Inquisition entourage, it finally dawned on me how foolish I had been. Running through the marsh in that first moment of freedom, I also stumbled across the sad truth. The mud flecked reality that splattered my naive and untarnished belief that freedom was the answer. It wasn't. The truth was now apparent. The wilds of the world were no place for a caged bird, even if that bird should have been free. Freedom was now the most dangerous threat that I or the bird could face, for we were utterly defenceless. 

Bleary eyed and covered in filth, I finally emerged onto a part of the Imperial Highway and there I waited, like some strange creature fearing the world and it’s own shadow, until a tired merchant cart came rolling along hours later. A rickety wagon piled high with swedes heading to Jader, I offered up a few coins from my pouch for the merchant to allow me to travel concealed under his merchandise. The request was met somewhat with suspicion but the coins soon silenced the matter and we set off without another word, except with a warning not to damage any of his swedes.

A waning full moon in a dark blue sky had risen we finally reached the coastal port town of Jader. A pile of swedes ungraciously dumped behind a vendor’s stall, I found myself on the edge of the docks district and smelling now of turnips. The yells and roars of laughter from seafarers filled the streets near the pier, the high pitched giggles, cackles and calls from the ladies of the night plying their trade. Taverns brightly lit, the merriment spilled out into the streets with festive Orlesian tunes. Rum soaked and vomit stench filled my nostrils and here and there I could see narrow eyes shining out from the dark of the black alleys, searching for a pretty pocket to pick. Completely out of my depths and a stranger to this even stranger life, I ambled along with only the intoxication of fear and freedom to push me further, step by step.

As I stumbled across towards the last, aging pier of the docks, a heavy wooden sign of a tavern swung before me. The Copper Coin. With nowhere left to turn and a pier about to lead into an abrupt drop of cold sea water, I turned into the brightly lit tavern. The tavern was drinking house bustling with humans and dwarves, laughing and talking, singing and dancing, the happy patrons packed to the rafters with giant pitchers of ale in their warm hands.

Bumping shoulders one after the other, I edged my way to a corner of the crowded room, finding a place by one of the roaring fires. The flames were my only guidance, and they danced vibrant and furious, the molten lick and the hiss of a log. 

Cullen. Cullen. Cullen 

There were no more tears left in me to cry. All that remained were the hollow words of the Commander that rang in my mind, over and over again until I feared I would go mad.

I could hear Cullen shouting at me on the Imperial Highway. Nothing could erase that words full of hatred. 'I should kill you here on the spot for doing what you just did!’

Eyes glaring with rage, I stared fiercely into the flames, the fire stirring enmity into my heart. Was that what amounted to a promise never to hurt me? Of all the moments we had shared, every touch, every time he drew me into those amber depths and made my skin shiver. His breath on my neck, the warm moorish scent of his sun kissed skin, sweet almonds and musk, beads of sweat dripping down his skin as he moved in me, assuring me all the while that I had his heart. Had I been under some delusion? Was I genuinely a fool? A fool in my head and a fool in my heart? Could Cullen truly have felt nothing of what I felt with every nerve and fibre of my wretched being? For every way I tried to justify it otherwise, the miserable answer to these questions was yes, for that was the only way to explain what had played out.

‘Aye, I know that look luvie.’ bellowed a wild looking tavern wench with raging red hair, handing two flagons to a pair of dwarves beside me. ‘Booze. Ya need booze.’ she added with certainty. 

‘Just the house ale.’ I mumbled, handing her some silver with a concealed hand under my cloak.

Apart from the rejection, fear and feeling like everyone in Thedas would soon look upon me with disdain and disgust, the most difficult hurdle before me was concealing my green glowing hands from the world. Even if I had wished to fade away into a sea of people, my hands would sooner or later betray me. There was no hiding the mark.

The woman came back and placed a drink beside me with a nod. Lingering a moment to polish the table, with more curious motives at play rather than cleanliness, she finally drew herself to face me. . ‘Trust me luv. They’re all bastards.’

I looked up in surprise, and red haired woman threw me knowing smile. ‘So what did he do? Beat ya? Rob ya? Shack up with yer friend?’

‘He wants me dead.’ I replied coldly, staring back into the flames.

‘Pfft, sod ‘im.’ scoffed the woman. Drawing another dirty rag from her apron she proceeded to mop up the spilt ale from the table. ‘Anyone who wants yer dead ain’t worth yer time.’

I shook my head as I took a big swill of the ale, trying to stave off the tears I could have sworn were all dried up. Perhaps this stranger was right? But even when I couldn’t change the facts that resonated in Cullen’s heart, the truth in my own heart was I still loved him. Even when he looked upon me with all the hate in the realm and cursed me to my grave...somehow, I still loved him.

‘Yer got family? Friends?’ she added somewhat hopefully.

‘No one.’ I replied, taking another deep swill ‘I need to leave here as soon as I can. He’s going to try and find me.’

With a nod, the woman plonked herself down beside me. ‘Me name’s Rosie.’ she announced pleasantly, outstretching a lace covered hand with a quick shake that I awkwardly accepted through a cloak covered hand.

‘Jane.’ I muttered with shifting eyes.

Rosie raised her brows, as if she suspected that wasn't my name. ‘Well Jane, now listen,’ instructed Rosie ‘there are half a dozen sailors here who’ll take you across the Waking Sea if yer good for the coin. Start up a nice and fresh life in Cumberland or Kirkwall. That’s what my cousin did, fled to Kirkwall when her husband tried to whore her for coin. Mind you Kirkwall was in shambles ‘bout a year ago but things ‘ave turned around some since then I’m told. You can get lost in that city, savvy?’

My eyes flashed up to hers at the familiarity of the name ‘Kirkwall? Is Kirkwall near here?’

‘Nay, not near Jader,’ replied the waitress ‘but a ship’ll take you across the sea here and just up along a bit east, and you’ll find Kirkwall sure enough. Yer not from around here, can tell by yer accent. Ferelden?’

‘Free Marches.’ I muttered.

‘Free Marches?’ chuckled Rosie ‘And yer don’t know where Kirkwall is?!’

‘I lived a secluded life.’ I replied with a shrug ‘Never made it further than Markham.’

‘But ye know people in Kirkwall?’ asked the waitress curiously.

‘Not exactly.’ I muttered darkly ‘But I know of someone who’ll never want to go near the place again.’

The woman smiled with a satisfied nod, getting up again to grab some empty flagons near by. ‘Well Jane it sounds to me like you got yourself a plan. See those men by the corner of the bar, near the door? They’re decent enough folk, they stick to shipping goods to the towns and cities along the Waking Sea and shouldn’t give you too much trouble if you need a way across. Dunno if anyone is going to Kirkwall, but it’d be worth asking them first.’

‘Thank you.’ I replied with a small smile, hiding my glowing green hands further under my cloak. ‘It’s rare to find someone so helpful. Thank you.’

‘Goodluck luv and remember,’ advised Rosie as she turned to leave ‘he may have have had yer heart, but no man has yer head. Use it.’. With a firm nod, the waitress disappeared into the sea of patrons until only her cackling laugh could be heard rising above, adding to the bustling cheerful merriment of The Copper Coin.

****

‘We need to extend the search out across from The Frostback Mountains to The Western Approach.’ ordered Cullen sternly. With a firm finger he pointed to the western side of the large map of Thedas that was lying on the table of the war council room. ‘She may be in the desert far west. Maybe even far east in Ferelden itself?’

‘You said she escaped on foot with no supplies.’ observed Leliana doubtfully ‘I hardly think Ophelia would have made it pass Lydes, let alone to the Western Approach?’

The people of Skyhold who happened to be in the courtyard that midday were surprised to find a lone dwarf riding full speed into the stables. Varric Tethras was seen muttering a few words to the stable hands before heading towards The Herald’s Rest, his face as dark as the ominous clouds that hung overhead. Hours later Commander Cullen and an ill looking Michel de Chevin rode furiously through the gates also. Taking the entire courtyard by surprise, Cullen had yelled out to the guards to find everyone in the Inquisition Council and meet him at the war table immediately. Michel was led away by few of the stable boys to find the keep's healer.

Whispers and murmurs soon spread across Skyhold like wildfire. Where was the Inquisitor? Where were the rest of the entourage? Had something terrible happened to them and were any of them still alive? Had Corypheus captured the Inquisitor?

If the skies promised rain that afternoon, an even heavier cloud hung over the war room of Skyhold. Cullen presented his angry account of the previous events on the Imperial Highway, while Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine all listened on in disbelief, growing more and more shocked by the moment.

‘We need to keep this search quiet.’ warned Cassandra ‘We cannot let the people know that the Inquisitor has fled.’

‘Fled? Or chased away?’ muttered Leliana, her green eyes glaring accusingly towards the Commander. 'You know we need her to seal the rifts. Why did you let this escalate?'

‘What would you have done?’ growled Cullen ‘Applauded her for setting Imshael into the realm with the promise of Inquisition immunity, while the rest of us took a forced nap? Whether you want to acknowledge it now or keep it secret, there is one thing that is certain. Ophelia Trevelyan is not fit to lead this Inquisition. Her title of Inquisitor needs to be stripped.’

The spymaster raised her brows in surprise, holding back her words as she studied Cullen for a moment. By all appearances the Commander was physically and mentally exhausted, his eyes wild and frantic, as if a thousand thoughts were going through his head but he couldn’t focus on even one of them.

‘I agree with the Commander.’ piped in Josephine eagerly ‘We cannot have a mage that performs blood magic holding the title of Inquisitor. It is abhorrent. She allowed a demon to be released into the land. Really, what sort of person is Ophelia Trevelyan? Have we asked ourselves this?’

‘Thank you Josephine.’ replied Cullen, staring around to the other Inquisition members, hoping they too would see reason.

‘By your account she did it to save Michel de Chevin and the entourage.’ observed Cassandra sternly ‘There are reasons behind her actions perhaps that we have not taken into account?’

‘She made a deal with a demon.’ snarled Cullen ‘Anyone of you here that think releasing a demon into Thedas is acceptable behaviour is deluded. And no other than a demon that we all knew was already working with Corypheus and the Red Templars!’

‘Although that was not the Inquisitor’s intention when she released Imshael.’ pointed out Leliana shortly, displeased with the growing tension in the room.

‘She’s put everyone at terrible risk.’ scoffed Josephine ‘It is disgusting.’

Leliana cast a disapproving look to her friend, who seemed more energised and vibrant since this meeting was called. ‘Nevertheless, Ophelia Trevelyan is at the forefront of the Inquisition. You cannot simply remove the Inquisitor without damaging what we have been building.’. Running a frustrated hand through her ginger hair she noticed Cullen glaring at her. ‘Fine I will send my agents to search for her, but I advise no soldiers partake in this. We need to make sure no one knows the Inquisitor is gone, especially not our enemies.’

‘I agree with Leliana.’ added Cassandra ‘We need to bring Ophelia back to Skyhold without anyone knowing.’

‘We need to arrest her for being a maleficar.’ added Josephine fervently ‘Blood magic is evil and all our connections that have been made will be destroyed if we allow her to return without repercussions.’

Cullen nodded ‘My thoughts exactly.’

Throwing another displeased look towards Josephine, Leliana shook her head. ‘Then let my agents deal with this. They will be able to find her easier than soldiers with the Inquisition symbol blazed on their breasts, announcing they are coming for her a mile away.’

‘Leliana is right,’ implored Cassandra ‘we should keep this quiet for now and let the agents find her. We can tell the people that the Inquisitor and the soldiers are on a mission, however Michel de Chevin was injured and needed to return.’

‘Cullen you should make sure the soldiers that are in Halamshiral swear their silence on the matter.’ added Leliana ‘I will send one of my agents to remind them of this.’

‘This mad woman is a blood mage and you are more concerned in protecting her reputation?!’ yelled Cullen, growing more and more frustrated.

‘Protecting the Inquisition’s reputation’ corrected Leliana flatly. ‘What is more important than that? Also, and I’m sure this goes without saying, Ophelia deserves to explain her actions before we cast judgement here, no?’

‘And we should not forget that she has the mark,’ frowned Cassandra ‘and that in the hands of the enemy would be terrible. We need her.’

Banging his fist on the table, the room shuddered. An echo of Cullen's fury for all to bare witness. ‘I cannot be here, do what you will.’ he muttered in disgust, stepping away from the table and heading for the door. ‘If the Inquisition condones blood magic then I want no part in it.’. Ripping the doors open with his brute strength Cullen stormed out, his boots rasping angrily onto the stone floor and echoing into the night.

Hastily gathering up a bunch of papers, Josephine began for the door also.

‘What? You too?’ remarked Cassandra in surprise.

‘Forgive me.’ remarked Josephine in a fluster ‘I have to be somewhere.’. She scuttled out of the room, leaving Leliana and Cassandra frowning to themselves as they brought their attention back to the rather large map of Thedas.

‘Cullen is being irrational.’ observed Cassandra dryly.

Rubbing her eyes, Leliana looked out the window wearily 'Yes, but it's only his past coming back to haunt him Cassandra. I understand him too well to think otherwise. This little liaison he has been having with the Inquisitor has left him feeling like he has been entertaining a blood mage all along. Can we blame him for acting that way? He feels betrayed. And worse than that, he blames himself for it.'

‘It doesn’t help with finding the Inquisitor.’ pointed out the Seeker ‘I fear she will not return of her own accord now, thanks to Cullen’s part in all of this.’

‘She won’t be able to hide for long.’ replied Leliana ‘We will bring her back. It is not that which I fear. She is safe out there, but if people learn of what she has done...well, I fear she will never be safe in the Inquisition again.’

‘You forget.’ sighed Cassandra, commencing for the door tiredly ‘She never really was.’. With a raised eyebrow, Cassandra left Leliana to herself.

Frowning, Leliana returned her attention to the bleak scenery outside the window.

'No I remember.' muttered the Spymaster 'The problem, however, is that the Inquisitor has likely begun to realise the same thing.'

****

Stumbling along the stone battlements his sword ran it’s blade along the parapets, one by one, the dull clank on the cold rock echoing into the valley below. Clank, clank, clank. Loudly he wandered aimlessly until Cullen finally found a spot to sit. Dropping his weapon it clashed to his side and the steel hilt hit the stone floor hard as he drew up the large bottle of whisky to his lips, drinking deeply.

Feeling the warm breeze on his skin, the ex-templar tried to turn his thoughts away from what had happened. Such attempts were in vain, and all he noticed was how deathly still the night had become. Flashes of lightning stirred on the horizon, followed by the low rumble of thunder. Staring out into the oblivion, pain filled every part of him like an empty vessel as he continued to drink the liquor deeply, longing to reach that state of numbing oblivion.

Unsheathing his poignart suddenly, the ex-templar ran his finger along the silver blade, a sharp sting bringing one red drop of blood to form a bead on his skin.

'How could she?' he whispered darkly, running the blade suddenly across his left forearm, the cold metal piercing his skin deeply and angrily. Cullen sighed in release as his blood ran free. Raising the bottle to his lips, he viciously took another swill of the amber liquid. Blood spilled down his forearm as he cast his gaze up to the stars.

‘Haven’t you finished torturing me yet?!’ he yelled up to the Maker in fury ‘Tell me again what damnable act I partook in to produce this much indignation from you? Damn you! Curse you! You sit and judge and make fools of us all. I will forget you and despise you for eternity.’

Clutching his head desperately, Cullen’s eyes squinted shut, the memories of being trapped in the Kinloch Hold overcoming him like a wave of blood as red as the dripping wound on his arm…

A young templar, eyes flashing around wildly as he noticed something wasn’t right in the tower that morning. The screams alerted him, and he ran curiously to the source, only to find his fellow templars being tortured before him. Of flesh and muscle ripped off the bone, men and women screaming in gurgles of blood before being silenced. Frozen in his tracks, he had never witnessed such horror. Shaking…beads of sweat...a pulse that beat so strong it threatened to break open his chest and spill his insides all over the cold stone floor of the chamber…

‘Cullen?’ called out an ascending voice from the stairs, and his eyes startled, opening once more.

Raising a shaking bottle to his lips he grunted in reply, eyes lulling shut calmly as the whiskey burned down his throat in fiery comfort.

A blurry figure of Josaphine approached, finally kneeling down to him where he sat.

‘You’re bleeding!’ she observed uncertainly, her Antivan accent thick. Dressed in a purple silk dress, her figure revealed itself in a tight hour glass shape. Cullen ran his bleary eyes over her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the horizon.

‘It’s nothing.’ slurred Cullen ‘What-what do you...What you want Josephine?’

‘Nothing, I was merely taking a walk around the battlements and spotted you.’ replied the ambassador. With a frown, she reluctantly lowered herself onto the cold stone floor, taking care to avoid the drips of blood on the stone. 'You looked as if you could do with some company?'

Taking another large sip, the Commander turned towards the Antivan, offering up the bottle with a nod. Josephine maintained her smile, accepting the bottle and running her lips wantonly around the rim of the glass, finally taking a leisurely sip.

‘I'm sorry about what you had to go through in Orlais.’ she added softly, handing the bottle back to the Commander.

Draining the last sip, Cullen threw the glass bottle with all his might over the side of the battlements, the glass shattering onto the rocks below. ‘As am I.’ he growled 'Fucking sorry.'

‘Did you know Ophelia was a blood mage?’ asked Josephine gently.

Cullen’s blurry amber eyes passed unsteadily over hers, the veins in his neck bulging as he swallowed back the concept. ‘You think she was a blood mage all along?’ he asked uncertainly.

‘Of course.’ declared the Antivan confidently ‘A lot of mages hide that part of them from everyone. They are devious like that.’

‘No, no she would have told me.’ slurred Cullen, shaking his head ‘She knew how much I hated...she knew.’. Sandy tresses spilling over as he bowed his head, Cullen looked utterly defeated. Exhaling a heavy sigh, he suddenly pulled himself off the ground, sheathing his sword and dagger.

‘I need another bottle.’ he muttered, stumbling along the battlements as Josephine trailed closely after him.

After a few more turns, Cullen roughly pushed open the wooden door to his study and lunged at the bookshelf where a few bottles of Vint-9 Rowan’s Rose served as a book stopper on the top shelf. With a cold expression, Cullen wrenched a bottle off the shelf.

‘We shared this same drop in an inn once. I told her how I could never trust mages.’ Cullen snarled, ripping out the cork of the bottle with his teeth and spitting it aggressively to the floor. ‘Fuck mages. FUCK ALL MAGES.’

Concealing a grin, Josephine turned to close the door, softly turning the lock before turning back to the Commander who had commenced sculling the red wine, before stumbling back into his chair.

‘Mages can never be trusted.’ agreed Josephine ‘They always end up doing terrible things.’

The Commander clicked his fingers, and directed an unsteady forefinger towards her .‘That is the smmmmartest thing I've heard since arriving back in this damn place.’

‘The council did not heed your words, but I did. Cullen I want to help you, any way I can. Is there any way I can help you Cullen?’

Cullen pointed an unsteady finger at Josephine as his eyes lulled ‘I was wrong about you. I thought you were just like all the rest of them.’

The Antivan grinned, moving to sit on the table in front of Cullen, her silk derriere pressing firmly onto his papers. Carefully she prised the bottle of wine from Cullen’s hand, her fingers gently stroking over his as she did so. ‘I assure you, I am unlike anyone you’ve ever met.’ she purred as she took a long sip of the liquid 'I'm full of surprises.'

Cullen chuckled ‘That’s what they all claim.’

Running her hand along the table, she quickly dropped it to run along Cullen’s leg, kneading her fingers firm into his muscular thigh that bulged through the loose black cotton pants he was wearing. ‘I can ease this pain if you let me? Sometimes you need to just let go of all the stress. ’ she whispered ‘I’m not a mage, you can trust me.’

Taking another sip of the crimson, Cullen remained eased in his chair and a smirk on his face as Josephine lingered closer to his ear, whispering in it.

‘In Antiva we like to play with knives...knives like the one you were playing with up on the battlements before. I could show you things?’

Cullen’s breathing grew shorter as the Antivan drew her tongue up to his lobe and sucked it before pulling away, a lustful grin on her lips.

Rubbing his eyes, the Commander stood up abruptly. His chair fell backwards as he stepped away from the desk. With an uneasy cough he moved unsteadily the door ‘Josephine I'm tired, you should go.’

‘It’s okay.’ reassured Josephine ‘I’m not after anything from you. I just want to make you feel better.’

‘I feel fine.’ affirmed Cullen ‘Forgive me, but I’m in no state for company. I've been drinking too much. You should go.’

Moving towards Cullen, Josephine began to wrap her arms around his torso, clad only in a loosely fitting white shirt. With rough hands, the ex-templar pushed her off him in agitation, throwing her back a few unsteady paces.

‘I don’t want that.’ he informed sternly.

All the fury in the world could not have filled the inflamed look that the Antivan flashed towards Cullen, anger seething in her eyes. ‘So you’d fuck a blood mage but I’m not good enough for you?’

The Commander scorned at the comment, shaking his head in reproach. ‘You need to leave.’ he growled, wrenching open the door before releasing it was locked. Glaring at her coldly, he unlocked the door with a sharp click and opened it.

‘Why?’ yelled Josephine, her quiet self transforming into one of pure rage. An abomination in itself, unleashed onto the Commander.

‘Because I love her.’ growled Cullen angrily ‘That’s the fuck why. Now GET OUT!’ 

With a hiss, Josephine stormed past Cullen, muttering as she passed ‘I wish the demon had possessed Ophelia under that tree and done us all a favour.’

Cullen scoffed at the remark, turning to slam his door shut on the Antivan.

With a look of daggers, Josephine turned her foot quickly and descended into the night, a snake descending into the pit once more.


	14. Maker Preserve Us All

_Enshrouded in his black cloak of chaos, his was a most perfect soul, a raw reality, a splendid and passionate being torn between the highs and lows of this crumbling prison that we call life. Yet he left me with such cruelty I could not fathom._

_A cruelty to know you will never see the one you love again,_

_…..but even crueler still, to know that person loves you no more. _

As if a looking glass reflected the sunset spread across the horizon, a tired carrack floated across the still waters into the port of Kirkwall. The sea was rouged, although it was not for blood’s sake. The recent storms had stirred the red sands that lay at the bottom of the Waking Sea, tinging the waters crimson and causing more than one sailor to cross themselves in concern.

‘Tis a bad omen when the Waking Sea wakes red.’ muttered a greying sailor standing on the portside of the carrack. Looking dubiously into the murky depths, puffed on his pipe. ‘Waters turned like blood before the Kirkwall’s chantry was blown up by that evil mage. It was a dark and stormy day...’

‘Horse shit!.’ cackled another sailor from the deck above, a man missing several teeth and half a right arm. ‘I was in the port the day it ‘appened. Bright sunny day and clear blue waters. Dark n’ stormy day my arse!’

The first sailor scowled, throwing the ropes to another man waiting on the pier, as they secured the small carrack to the dock. ‘What would you know, ye drunk bastard.’ he muttered. Turning his head, he threw a look to the crates where I was sitting ‘Aye Serah, yer good to go.’

With a nod of thanks, I was more than happy to leave the possibly cursed red waters of the Waking Sea after a half day journey staring into them.

Kirkwall. The City of Chains. For all the stories I'd heard of it, it was nothing compared to the spectacular sight that greeted our ship. We sailed past an enormous, if not ominous, black wall and carved guardians into the cliff side. The figures appeared pained, if that was possible for statues, and made me feel rather uneasy. As we sailed into the port we passed through two giant bronze statues, The Twins of Kirkwall, and I couldn’t be sure whether the shadow cast by the structures was actually the cold reality of my situation. The realisation that this was my new home. Varric had spoken so fondly of Kirkwall, yet all I could feel was trepidation as I stepped foot onto the docks for the first time, tightly cloaked and ready to blend into the city.

Of course I knew why I had been drawn to this mecca of madness. The chaos of the city of Kirkwall would be the one place I would be able to hide, like a rat amongst thousands of others, fighting for crumbs in the shadows. With no idea of where to go I decided there was one place that felt familiar, even though I had never stepped foot into the city before. One place that might be able help me find my bearings in the new situation I had found myself in.

‘The Hanged Man.’ I sighed wearily, heading off into the thick of the city, hoping luck would find me before trouble would inevitably pass my way.

****

The clouds in our mind oft change like the weather  
Oh damn that turbulent weather…

A golden sun rising bright on the horizon, Michel awoke drenched in sweat and even more restless after a full nights sleep at Skyhold. The ex-chevalier spent the morning anxiously pacing the gardens, hoping for some answers from the nature surrounding. As minute by painful minute dragged on the song of the birds wore on his nerves and the sweet scent from the elfroot blossoms irritated his nose. By mid-morning the Maister of Blades had still not obtained the epiphany he was hoping would save him and reluctantly he made his way to the courtyard, knowing what needed to be done.

Mounting the stairs to the battlements, Michel arrived at the study of Commander Cullen, and with a deep breath knocked twice.

‘Yes.’ called out a deep and croaky voice from within.

Pushing the door forward the ex-chevalier found a disheveled Cullen at his desk, with an appearance of one who had been fighting darkspawn the entire night.

‘Trust me, I feel worse than I look.’ reassured Cullen gruffly. His messy hair scattered across his pale brow and bloodshot eyes met the Orlesian courteously.

‘We call it the Orlesian flu.’ mused Michel ‘Or you had the misfortune of drinking from a dirty glass?’

‘I didn’t use a glass, must have been a dirty bottle.’ grimaced Cullen with a shake of his head. Lifting himself off his chair, he drew hands with the ex-chevalier in a warm shake. ‘It’s good to see you on your feet. How are you feeling?’

‘Well I feel better than yesterday,’ remarked Michel tiredly, easing himself into a chair opposite Cullen ‘although I feel tainted since Imshael left my body. Unclean no matter how much I bathe. I’m sure it will pass in time.’. The Orlesian paused a moment, appearing to want to say something that was pressing on his mind. ‘I never got to thank you for taking me back here to Skyhold. For the most part, I cannot remember the trip back, but I’m sure I would not have made it without you. I owe you my life.’

‘I never leave my men behind.’ replied Cullen firmly ‘I’m just glad you’re okay.’

‘I am.’ reassured Michel ‘This will not interfere with my duties. I wish to forget what happened and move on.’

‘I wish for all our sakes we could forget about what happened.’ agreed Cullen darkly, shifting through some papers on his desk with displeasure. ‘The more I think about it, the more I am revolted. And in turn, the more I think about it unfortunately.’

‘You cannot blame Ophelia for everything.’ added Michel quietly ‘There were other forces at hand. Dark forces.’

Cullen waved a miserable hand to dismiss the comment, more emotions filling him than he cared to reveal. ‘Forgive me Michel, I cannot talk about Ophelia at the moment.’

‘I think we must, for her sake?’ added Michel shamefully ‘Varric’s words have bore away at me all night.’

‘Don't you see?’ frowned Cullen, throwing the papers down in annoyance. ‘I cannot forgive her even if I wished it. Anything, anything at all I would have understood, but not that. It's personal with her and I. I cannot expect you to understand it, but Ophelia was well aware of my opinion about blood magic.’

Rubbing his hands in agitation, Michel placed them suddenly on the table in front of him. ‘Forgive me I cannot swallow this shame one moment longer. I tried to keep it from you all when I arrived here from Emprise du Lion, but I cannot now, not after everything that has happened.’

The Commander threw Michel a concerned look, ceasing his work to listen to the Orlesian. ‘What is it? asked Cullen, genuinely surprised.

‘I never told you how Imshael came into the realm,’ confessed Michel ‘and that is because it was my fault. A few years ago Imshael was summoned by a Dalish clan, Clan Virnehn. The elves held Imshael in a binding circle while they sought help in unlocking the secrets behind the Eluvians, but Imshael refused to help so the elves kept him bound in the circle. A while later the clan received Empress Celene and I, when I was still her champion, as guests. We wanted to ask for help in the fight against Gaspard de Chalons. I-’. Michel paused for a moment, uncomfortable with what he needed to say.

‘Go on.’ remarked Cullen sternly, his attention now painfully fixed on the Orlesian.

‘While I was there at the elven camp Imshael used blood magic to lure me to him,’ continued Michel remorsefully ‘to the circle where he was entrapped. He told me about the Eluvians and their purpose, and he even tried to make a deal with me, but I refused. Instead I went and told Empress Celene what had occurred and we returned to where I had found Imshael.’. Michel frowned, adding in displeasure ‘Celene’s interest in the Eluvians led us to order that Imshael produce a keystone for the Eluvians.’

‘You asked Imshael for a favour?’ replied Cullen flatly.

Michel slowly nodded his head, lips pursed in utter shame. ‘Yes.’ he replied with regret in his voice ‘Imshael created a keystone that would enable its keeper to travel through the Eluvians to the central place where all the Eluvians were connected. It was there that we could reactivate the Eluvians and create a new word to enable us to travel through them whenever we wished to.’ Michel sighed shakily, the memories flooding back ‘We took the keystone off Imshael.’

‘You made a deal with him.’ stated Cullen flatly, this time shaking his head.

Michel looked terribly ashamed. 'It was the wrong thing to do, I know that. So I tried to make it right. I tried to destroy the binding circle to send Imshael back to the fade. Imshael deceived me into thinking that if I did destroy the circle then he would return to the fade, but when I did I...I accidentally released him into the realm.'. Michel turned deathly white as he continued 'The first thing Imshael did when he was released was murder every elf in Clan Virnehn, apart from the children and one other...an elf named Mihris.'

‘What happened then?’ frowned Cullen.

‘Imshael possessed the body of Mihris, and she accepted this with a plan to join Gaspard de Chalons and seek revenge on myself for the death of her clan. She promised Gaspard that she could lead him to Celene through the Eluvians, which she did. Celene and Gaspard and myself found ourselves at the central room through the Eluvians, and I duelled Gaspard for the fate of Orlais. As we dueled a spell came upon me to make me falter, and I discovered later it was Mihris who was responsible. It was then that we discovered Mihris had been possessed by Imshael, but he left her body a while later and escaped into the realm.’

‘And so that is why you were hunting him so adamantly in Emprise du Lion.’ muttered Cullen ‘I should have realised there was more to your story.’

‘I could never wash the blood of Clan Virnehn from my hands.’ admitted Michel sadly ‘and I knew I would never be forgiven for that. Killing Imshael was my only contrition, for the heinous deeds that I was responsible for. That day when Ophelia and her party came across me defending the village of Sahrnia, I dared not hope or imagine that they would be able to go and kill Imshael. You do not know how long I had sought to destroy him.’. Michel breathed out a heavy sigh. ‘When Ophelia returned saying they had killed him, I wanted to believe it with all my heart. After all that time hunting Imshael and knowing how powerful a demon he was, I wanted it to be over.’. Michel shook his head in disgust ‘I should have told Ophelia, warned her about Imshael. Instead I concealed my shameful past involving Imshael and hoped it was behind me.’

‘Ophelia, Vivienne, Varric, Blackwall, and Cassandra were certain they had banished Imshael.’ informed Cullen ‘How could Imshael possibly have returned?’

‘Perhaps there was someone nearby that he possessed. Another vessel perhaps?’ suggested Michel ‘It is difficult to say what Imshael is capable of doing.’

Rubbing his neck wearily, Cullen nodded. ‘Thank you for your honesty. Not that I suppose it matters now. Imshael's in the realm and that is all that matters.’

‘Commander, I cannot convince you how to feel towards the Inquisitor, but for my part I cannot judge her.’ confessed Michel ‘When faced with Imshael I asked for something, the key, and it shall be to my everlasting shame. I must live this life knowing I sought gain from a demon. Ophelia only tried to save my life. All our lives. The Inquisition is sworn to leave Imshael be, but perhaps she was thinking there were other ways to hunt him once more? If this means leaving the Inquisition to do so, I will continue to hunt Imshael for the rest of my days until he is finally destroyed.’

‘She trusted a demon.’ replied Cullen furiously, half to himself ‘how can anyone forgive that?’

‘Imshael deceived her, yes. For what reason we may never know?’ replied Michel ‘I don’t know why Imshael possessed me only to leave me unharmed, but I know that everything that demon does has a reason behind it. I fear he deceived her, like he deceived me all those years ago.’

The Commander began pacing the room, his brow furrowed as he thought deeply about the situation. ‘You have a point. Why did he possess you only to leave? Did he specifically ask Ophelia for Inquisition protection?’

‘No...’ recalled Michel with a frown ‘He...what did he do? Let me think. She performed a spell of sleep on you all, and then asked Imshael to tell her the spell that could release me. Imshael asked her why he should help her, and she offered, rather hastily, assurance not to pursue him. Yes, that is how it happened.’

‘So he didn’t ask for anything specific.’ queried Cullen ‘Why would he possess you in order to help aid her cast a spell? Why would he do that? If he was already free in the realm I assume you would be the last person, that and the Inquisition itself, that he would want to face again. And even if Ophelia didn’t banish him in Suledin’s Keep, why did he possess you again to help Ophelia? I need to make sense of this yet I cannot see any reason behind Imshael’s actions?’

‘It makes me uneasy as well’ agreed Michel ‘I would have said he was after Inquisition protection but no, that was Ophelia in the heat of the moment.’

‘Could Imshael have planned that all along?’ suggested Cullen ‘You said he was extremely cunning.’

‘Unless he planted the very words in her head to offer to him such a deal. But no...I was apart of Imshael as he was of me at the time, I am certain I would have sensed that. It felt...different. It felt like his only intention was to make her cast that spell. Yes i am certain of it. He only wanted her to cast that spell to release me from him.’

‘After he just possessed you?’ frowned Cullen ‘There is more to this and we must find out.’

‘Do you think this could involve Corypheus?’ asked Michel.

‘Whatever the reason, we need to find it and find it quickly.’ Cullen replied sternly ‘Including finding the Inquisitor. We need to bring her back to Skyhold before she ends up in the hands of the enemy.’

****

Two weeks from the day Commander Cullen, Michel de Chevin and Varric had ridden back into Skyhold, the remaining seven soldiers of the Inquisition entourage finally returned to the keep. Like fanning embers in a fire, the return of the soldiers stoked the smouldering coals as people across the keep speculated more and more as to what had become of the Inquisitor. The continual reassurance of the council members that Ophelia Trevelyan had merely been kept away, busy with official duties, began to sound less and less convincing and by the third week people had began to grow extremely suspicious.

The search for the Inquisitor had been fruitless so far, with Leliana’s agents finding no leads. Finally growing impatient, Commander Cullen and Michel de Chevin had made the decision to go out into the realm themselves and search for the Inquisitor. Surrounded by maps large and small, old and new, the men sat in the Commander’s office studying their options for the journey ahead.

‘We could start in Jader and then move west?’ suggested Cullen ‘For the more I think about it she wouldn’t venture into Ferelden being so recognisable there.’

Michel looked doubtful ‘The soldiers searched Halamshiral with no luck, and the surrounding areas.’

‘She’s not stupid.’ scoffed Cullen ‘She would know that we would be searching for her in the nearest town. There is every chance she continued along to Lydes or Verchiel and remains hidden there? Perhaps in some abandoned hut?’

‘Leliana’s agents have already been through those villages. With her accent she would stick out like a sore thumb in Orlais,’ pointed out Michel ‘I doubt she would remain in the area. What about her family? Would she go seek help from them?’

‘Leliana has already sent an agent to her family residence in the Free Marches.’ informed the Commander ‘Of course if I know Ophelia, that would be the last place she would go.’. Cullen sighed in frustration ‘She could be anywhere by now.’

Blonde hair spilled forward as he leant over a map studying it carefully, Michel pointed to an area above the Waking Sea ‘What about The Free Marches? Wasn’t her circle in-?’

‘Ostwick.’ answered Cullen ‘I suppose she may be familiar with the area, but I doubt it. We do not allow the mages to leave the circles that they are kept in. Besides I fear it is too obvious, she would know we would be searching the area. Also it’s not like she can go back and take up residency in the tower.’

A shuffling of feet sounded outside the door, followed by a loud knocking.

‘Maker’s breath.’ muttered Cullen impatiently ‘Come in, and be quick about it!’

With a grunt, the door swung open and a large Qunari, solemn and silent, followed by a smirking younger man with brown short hair stepped in, both running their eyes around the room curiously. It was the Iron Bull and his lieutenant, Krem Aclassi.

‘Commander I’m just gonna come right out with this. You’re paying your soldiers too much.’ begun the Iron Bull.

Preoccupied with the map before him, the Commander continued to study the parchment. ‘You think twenty silvers a day is excessive do you, Bull?’ muttered Cullen, walking over to the bookshelf to pull down a larger map of The Free Marches on the top shelf. ‘I’d hate to think what the Ben-Hassrath paid you.’

‘I got to live. It worked for me.’ replied the Iron Bull flatly. Crossing his arms over his chest, the Qunari refused to relent. ‘You’re going to cause a mutiny by paying some of your soldiers more than others, including my guys who are pretty pissed off at the moment.’

‘Wouldn’t be so stingy with the good stuff if we all got paid that much, eh Boss?’ added Krem with a grin.

‘You’re missing the point.’ Bull replied to Krem ‘I wouldn’t pay any of you one coin more than what you’re getting now. Pay a soldier too much and he begins to think more about his pay and less about his work. If you all had enough to get pissed twenty-four hours a day, who’d be doing their job? No, the Commander needs to reduce the wages to keep the order and maintain a good, honest group of soldiers.’

Krem shrugged with a grin ‘I could still fight good and proper with a heavier pouch of coin. Try me, I dare you!’

Not turning around from the bookshelf, Cullen was now trying to find a particular text. It was apparent his mind was preoccupied with other matters. ‘Bull, every soldier gets the same amount, including your mercenaries. Twenty silver, three meals a day, and lodgings.’

‘If that's the case, how come your men are shouting drinks on the house all night at The Herald’s Rest?’ asked Bull sternly.

‘What men?’ asked Michel, looking up from a map he was studying on the table.

‘That red haired one that came back from your personal entourage the other week.’ replied Bull ‘What was his name Krem?’

With arms folded, the young man nudged his head smugly ‘Webb. Ugly mug and bad taste in piss.’

‘Webb. Webb Tanner.’ nodded Cullen, eager to prepare a search route and finish the present conversation ‘Yes, as I was saying, he gets paid the same as everyone else. What are you getting at Bull? Why exactly do you think Webb, of all people, is being paid in excess? He's a mercenary, nothing more.’

‘Well that soldier, Webb, has been buyin’ drinks on the house for the last three nights at The Herald’s Rest, acting like a damn rich ponce.’ informed Krem ‘Saw it with me own eyes. Would have sent a king bankrupt. And all I know is a few weeks back he didn't have two brass coins to rub together and now after he returns from your expedition he's swimming in coin.’

‘Commander, you are paying the entourage too much.’ informed Bull seriously.

‘Aye he’s piss poor to boot.’ added Krem ‘Ain’t no where else he’d be gettin it.’

‘And if it’s not from you Commander, then maybe you should be finding out where your men are getting so much coin on the side of their full time jobs?’ added the Iron Bull ‘I don’t wanna say it, but it smells fishy.’

‘Fishier than the fish pie that Madame Ruthie serves for lunch mid-week.’ added Krem with an amused nod.

‘By Andraste.’ muttered Cullen impatiently ‘Fine, we’ll get to the bottom of this so I can get some damn peace. Bring Webb to me now.’

With a roll of his eyes, Cullen recommenced his planning as the Iron Bull and Krem ducked off in search for the soldier Webb Tanner. An hour passed, and Cullen and Michel finally came to the agreement to start searching in Ostwick, hoping to find some lead or connection to the Inquisitor. Although Ostwick was by all accounts Ophelia's prison, it was the only place she had known and therefore, they concluded, was the only place she was familiar enough to be drawn back to.

A knock on the door distracted the men once more, and once again their attention was brought back to the concerns of the Qunari.

‘Commander’ called out Iron Bull, producing a worried looking soldier with shaggy red hair ‘We found him.’

Cullen sighed wearily ‘Let Webb come in. You two, wait outside.’

Webb waited nervously by the door as the Iron Bull and Krem threw him a suspicious look, finally leaving him alone in the study with Commander Cullen and Michel de Chevin.

‘You reek of stale piss Webb,’ obsereved Cullen in disapproval ‘and half of The Herald’s Rest seem to think you have a bottomless coin purse. So I know you don’t come from a wealthy family. Tell me, where did you get the coin from?’

‘I...uhh...’ Webb looked utterly taken aback by the question ‘Me uncle died an’ left me some coin. Fine man he was.’

Pausing in his tracks, the Commander turned to lean heavily against his table, arms crossed in comfort. ‘Your uncle.’ mused Cullen ‘Good old uncle -?’

‘Clancy.’ replied Webb.

‘Uncle Clancy!’ Cullen replied with a click of his fingers ‘Of course. So how’d he die?’

‘Consumption. Out in Redcliff.’

‘Consumption in Redcliff?’ exclaimed Cullen, throwing a surprised look to Michel who was reciprocating the act with a slight curl of his lip. ‘At this time of the year? Well that’s unfortunate. Where does he rest now?’

‘Ah, back in Redcliff.’ replied Webb hastily.

‘Indeed.’ replied Cullen ‘Well, come on then.’. The Commander sprung off his desk and headed towards the door.

‘Wot?’ remarked Webb in surprise, his eyes shifting to Michel who was staring straight faced towards the men.

‘You serve the Inquisition Webb, and your respect to the cause deserves mine in turn.’ informed Cullen seriously ‘I wish to pay my regards to your uncle. Right now.’

‘You wanna go to his grave, now?.’ remarked Webb uncertainly.

‘Yes, and pay my respects as Commander of the Inquisition.’ affirmed Cullen ‘I have horses saddled and ready, so lead the way.’

‘Uh we can’t,’ replied Webb ‘he-he wasn’t buried in a cemetery. He was uh...burned. Yeah, turned to im ashes.’

‘Strange?’ remarked Cullen curiously ‘A man like Uncle Clancy not being buried in the cemetery at Redcliff. Only the diseased and very poor generally end up being cremated.’

‘Coffins are expensive.’ added Webb.

‘You said he had money.’ frowned Cullen 'He gave it to you remember?'

'Well, aye but-'

Cullen glared at Webb as he squirmed in his steps. ‘Out with it, Webb.’ ordered the Commander sternly ‘Where’d you get the money?’

‘Aye it’s not what you think.’ the soldier replied defensively ‘That is to say it ain’t stolen or nuffing. Been doin’ jobs on the side for coin, that’s all.’

‘From who?’ asked Cullen, growing darker in demeanour by the second.

‘Nay, no one special.’ appealed Web fearfully 'i swear its not important.'

Michel straightened in his seat, throwing a concerned look to Cullen who returned it in a flash of his eyes. Both men suspected something sinister. 

Grabbing the man by the throat, Cullen wrenched Webb hard against the stone wall ‘Are you working for the Red Templars? Corypheus? WHO!’

The soldier’s eyes bulged as he desperately tried to release the unforgiving hands of his superior. ‘No! Nay! Never!’ he cried ‘Never, I swear!’

‘Then who!?’ growled Cullen ‘Who has been paying you? Dammit you’ll tell me now or I’ll run my blade through your gullet!’

‘Lady Montilyet!’ shrieked the soldier, fear streaked on his face.

‘What?!’ frowned Cullen, loosening his grip on Webb. The soldier fell to his knees gasping for air in coughs and splutters. ‘Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador? Why does she value your services so highly?’

Beads of sweat dripping down his face Webb looked utterly scared ‘Please Commander...she-she told me not to say. I swore sire, please...’

‘And now I am commanding you to tell me before I throw your worthless self into the dungeons and let you rot there for eternity.’ replied Cullen heatedly 'Or worse.'

‘She wanted me to find someone for her, that’s all.’ replied Webb with a quivering lip 'I was only following orders.'

‘You got paid all that money to find someone? Who?’ asked Michel hastily from behind him, growing more and more curious.

‘Nay...’

‘WHO!?’ roared Cullen.

‘A-a mmm-maleficar.’ stammered Webb ‘S-s-someone who could do blood magic.’

Cullen threw a wild look to Michel, who was appearing as shocked as the Commander.

‘Why?’ urged Michel ‘Why would Lady Montilyet want to find a maleficar?’

‘Nay, she didn’t say.’ replied Webb quickly ‘I swear she never told me. Just wanted me to find someone who could do blood magic.’

‘And who did you refer her to?’ asked Cullen sternly.

‘Th-th-this hermit who lives at the base of the Frostback. Levyn was his name.’ replied Webb fearfully ‘That’s all I know Commander. I swear.'

‘If I find out you’ve hidden something from me-’ begun Cullen, pulling the man up by the front of his shirt.

Webb raised his hands fearfully ‘Aye okay, okay, there was something else. Lady Montilyet asked me...well that is to say, uh, asked me to spy on you and Inquisitor. A while back, on our mission to Shrimstoke.’

‘What?’ remarked Cullen angrily ‘You were spying on me?! Why?’

‘Yes why would she ask you to do that?’ asked a baffled Michel.

‘Nay not sure I just follow orders.’ appealed Webb ‘Lady Montilyet just wanted to know what you an' the Inquisitor were talking about. What the Inquisitor was doing. Information an’ such’

‘What did you talk about?’ asked Michel curiously, looking to Cullen.

‘This is insanity.’ remarked Cullen, the confusion apparent on his face as he started to pace the room. ‘I’m not sure. We weren’t on good terms when we departed, I remember that much, although we sorted that out on the first night when I spoke to her about-’. He went silent, turning to the window, his hands leaning heavily on the stone. ‘We talked about our pasts, my time as a templar. My hatred for demons and…’

‘What’ asked Michel hesitantly.

‘Blood magic.’ uttered Cullen darkly ‘No, surely not? Tell me Webb, did Josephine know I abhorred blood mages?’

Webb nodded fearfully ‘Aye yer discussions ‘bout blood mages. I told her ‘bout that. I’m so sorry Commander. Have mercy sir.’

Cullen lunged over to pour himself a glass of water, stopping suddenly at the sight of a wine bottle standing on his bookshelf. ‘Maker preserve us all, what has she done?’ he whispered fearfully.

‘Cullen?’ remarked Michel, ‘What is it?’

‘The tree.’ he remarked in loathing. With a roar that startled even the horses in the stables far away, Cullen rammed his fist in the side of the bookshelf, the works of The Noladar Anthology of Dwarven Poetry and a copy of Swords and Shields falling to the ground.

‘SHE KNEW!!’ he yelled angrily, pointing an accusing finger at Webb who was cowering in the corner now. ‘BULL! KREM!.’

The study door opened quickly, the Iron Bull and Krem looking around the room eagerly to see what the commotion was about.

‘Commander, is everything alright?’ asked the Qunari.

Furiously writing a letter, Cullen finally finished it and folded it sharply. Hastily he reached over for his seal and a stick of red wax. Running the stick over the flame of the beeswax candle on his desk, the red droplets fell onto the parchment before he hastily stamped it with the crest of the Commander of the Inquisition.

‘I need you to take this letter and deliver it, with Webb, directly into the hands of Commander Rylen of the Griffon Wing Keep.’ ordered the Commander.

‘You’re sending me to The Western Approach?!’ exclaimed Webb fearfully.

‘I'm imprisoning you there until I send word.' muttered Cullen.

Knowing a dire task when presented with one, the Qunari nodded ‘We leave straight away.’

‘Mention none of this to anyone, especially not the Inquisition council or Jospehine Montilyet, and ensure that no one sees you taking Webb out of Skyhold.’ added Cullen sternly.

‘Make him disappear. Got it.’ nodded Krem.

Grabbing a protesting Webb, the Iron Bull and Krem dragged the man out of the room, leaving Cullen and Michel alone in a silent panic.

‘Cullen what is going on?’ blurted out the Orlesian as soon as the study door closed ‘What does Josephine know? Tell me?’

Breathing heavily, Cullen drew himself to the window once more, his hands leaning hard on the stone ‘A few weeks ago Josephine came here to my study late at night. I was completely drunk, and she tried to make her advances.’

‘Advances?’ puzzled Michel with a small grin.

‘She wanted a fuck, clear enough?’ growled Cullen ‘I turned her down and she didn’t take it well. She ended up storming out of the room saying how she wished Ophelia, instead of you, were possessed under that tree.’

Michel shrugged ‘She was angry, I suppose. She knows you are fond of Ophelia. Women say such things when hurt.’

‘You’re missing the point.’ replied Cullen sharply ‘She mentioned the tree. Remember that large old oak tree you fell underneath from your horse.’

‘Uh yes, vaguely?’ frowned Michel ‘Did you mention it to the council? Perhaps the soldiers from the entourage mentioned it?’

‘No I never said a word, I mean it was insignificant by all means.’ muttered Cullen ‘And the soldiers had not returned to Skyhold to mention it at that point.’. He looked sharply at Michel ‘But Josephine knew about it. Josephine referred to it, as if she knew exactly where you had been possessed. As if she were aware of all the details, even though we had never mentioned it.’

The ex-chevalier began looking more and more disturbed ‘You don’t think?’

‘That Josephine was aided by a maleficar to somehow get Imshael to possess you?’ remarked Cullen sternly ‘Yes.’

Michel chuckled uncomfortably, hoping his Commander was joking. ‘For what purpose? She knows nothing about me and Imshael. There is no reason to think she would be behind it.’

‘That wasn’t her purpose.’ growled Cullen, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. ‘Her purpose was to get the Inquisitor to perform blood magic.’. The ex-templar grabbed his hair desperately in his hands 'Maker's Breath, what have I done?'

‘But why?’ replied Michel, still trying to grasp the situation 'Why would Josephine do that? Why would she want to taint the Inquisitor's name?'

Shaking his head, Cullen rubbed his neck achingly ‘I don’t profess to understand the motives behind her insanity.'

Michel sighed. 'Mon dieu, of course. You said it yourself. Josephine was interested in you the other night. She likes you, and obviously she wanted you to hate Ophelia.’

Cullen scoffed, however as Michel remained serious, the ex-templar began to understand what he proposed was quite likely true.

‘So Imshael was most likely summoned from the Fade, but this maleficar Levyn?’ continued Michel ‘He must have summoned Imshael to possess me in order to get Imshael to encourage Ophelia to perform a blood magic spell in order to release me?'

The Commander shook his head in disbelief. 'Why would Josephine arrange such a thing?!’ 

'People are complicated.' observed Michel 'Desire makes people do things even more complicated.'

‘She has sealed her fate, nothing will protect her from that.’ growled Cullen, fist clenched ‘Never trust a fucking Antivan whore. How could someone in her position even fathom doing something like that to Ophelia? To you? To us all!? She was playing us like pawns in a game of Wicked Grace.’. The Commander shook his head in disgust, for disgust was all he felt towards this new revelation they had stumbled upon.

‘We have the word of one less than reputable soldier and your word about a late night rendezvous. It’s hardly much evidence?’ observed Michel doubtfully ‘Even if Josephine did this, what good can it do now? The deed has been done.’

‘The maleficar may be able to help us in summoning back Imshael?’ suggested Cullen 'It is all we can hope for now.'

‘No he is free now.’ sighed the Orlesian miserably ‘He cannot be summoned from the realm, only the fade. Of course, I confess I have no knowledge of the abilities of a maleficar? Perhaps he can aid us in locating Imshael at the very least?’

Cullen nodded. ‘My thoughts also. Until then, we need to pretend like we know nothing about Webb, Levyn or Josephine’s involvement.’

‘I can start a rumour around the barracks that Webb has gone awol?' suggested Michel 'I’m certain Josephine will eventually notice her lacky is missing.’

‘Yes do that, but keep the rumour small,’ ordered Cullen. Standing up from his desk he moved hastily to the door. ‘Let it filter through the ranks by itself. That way there will be no suspicion. Our search for Ophelia must wait until we deal with Josephine and this blood mage. We need to lure her back to Levyn somehow. That will be enough evidence of her guilt.’

‘How are you going to do that?’ queried Michel, following the Commander from his room.

‘Leave that to me.’ muttered Cullen darkly, walking ahead from his companion and down into the depths of Skyhold, his shoulders growing heavy in anticipation of what was to come.


	15. Ode To Kirkwall

_Kirkwall, o’ Kirkwall_   
_ A stone city of chains_   
_ Home once to the slave_   
_ Replaced now by the mage_

_On the seas, the Qunari, sailed to Orlais_   
_ For the Tome of Kulsun, alas, a pirate stole away_   
_ In Kirkwall the Arishok stayed, they plotted revenge_   
_ Attacking the city, spilling blood to avenge_

_Kirkwall, o’Kirkwall_   
_ A Champion came_   
_ To liberate the city_   
_ Hawke was his name_

_Orsino and Meredith refused to back down_   
_ It wouldn’t be long before one of them drowned_   
_ A sea of chained mages dripping in blood_   
_ A city of templars consumed by the flood_

_Kirkwall o’Kirkwall_   
_ Freedom you claimed_   
_ All around was oppression_   
_ Suffering and pain_

_The Divine turned her eye as your Chantry grew tall_   
_ Who knew that a mage would one day destroy it all_   
_ Kirkwall, O’Kirkwall_   
_ Oh, how the mighty fall..._

Ambling along the streets of Kirkwall with time on my side and not much else, I soon began to appreciate the subtleties of life. The beautiful contrast of bright green moss and lichen growing between dirty grey cobblestones on the laneways. Laneways that led to the many shops and homes piled high upon each other, rising up into a billow of soot and grime, right into the overcast sky above. Stray shaggy brown dogs and grot smeared children with wild hair and tatty clothes played in those lanes, while merchants beckoned the unsuspecting passersby to view their wares, all the while narrowly dodging the dirty water, warm piss and vegetable scraps being thrown out of the windows above.

As I pressed forward through the leering eyes of the docks, and turned into the passing nods of Lowtown, I soon discovered another world brimming with possibilities. The hustle and bustle of everyday life continued, as strong as ever, and for all intents and purposes Kirkwall seemed all but oblivious to the terror that had befallen them in darker days. After gaining directions to my destination in Lowtown, with a few wrong turns along the way, I finally came across a tired looking tavern. A creaking wooden sign of a man hung upside down by one foot swung overhead from the entrance. The Hanged Man.

Anticipation filled to the brim I was unable to contain myself from beaming as I stepped into the tavern, only to stumble across the threshold into a tired and rather neglected room. With distressed wooden floors and cracked red timber tables and chairs that were stained with food, wine and ash. To the left of the room a grey stone bar resided with an older man with blondish-brown hair busily pouring drinks and chatting away, while a few scattered patrons of human, elvish and dwarven decent drank from dark mugs in even darker corners of the room. Great iron fire pit chandeliers hung high above from the ceiling amongst tatty ripped and aged, red mast-like material. All this gave the tavern the word Varric often threw about to describe the place. Character.

Ironically Cullen’s account of the tavern had been more accurate than the somewhat grandiose version that Varric had recounted. It really was the kind of place you would expect someone to end up being served in the stew of the day, or indeed a place where they used to hang people upside down by their legs. Charm or no, it was the only place that felt familiar to me. I had a sneaky suspicion this was as good as it got.

Diligent not to order any meat on the menu that evening, I sat in solitude at a wooden table by a tall stone column rising high into the center of the room, and listened to a drunk bard sluggishly strum away at a broken lute by the fire. Taking in my surroundings and watching the few patrons come and go as the night progressed, I could imagine Varric sitting at one of these tables telling stories about his adventures with Hawke. That brought a small, albeit sad, smile to my face.

‘Aye, wot’s this? A new face? What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a pretty place like this?’ yelled out a black haired, black eyed man dressed in an oilskin doublet. Lingering by the bar, he grabbed three drinks and passed them to his friends before turning back to where I sat, a swagger in his step and a vibrant spark in his eyes.

‘Taking in the pretty ambience.’ I muttered, looking fearfully at the soup just served up before me. With suspicion, I poked the orange swill forming lumps in strange places. Turning my head up in opportune I added ‘And looking for work. Don’t suppose you’ve heard of any?’

‘The Rose is always up for fresh girls.’ jeered a red haired man beside his friend. A few cackles laughed across the room. 'What do you reckon?'

‘Good luck with that one.’ I replied with a nod ‘With a mug like yours I’m sure you’ll go far.’

‘Aye she’s got a mouth on her this one.’ chortled the black haired seafarer, grinning to the others.

‘Coincidentally also a brain,’ I muttered, half to myself ‘with an appreciation of dry wit when the chance presents itself.’

‘Take care someone don’t cut that pretty head off, you mouthy wench.’ snarled a bald man at the back of the group, his eyes dark and violent. He was drunk and agressive, the kind of person that would end up in prison for murder one of these days.

Flashing my eyes to the man, cold and expressionless, I added a little foolhardily ‘Then I’d burn off their face off if they tried.’. On cue, my hands charged green, the mark spluttering electricity in uncontrollable sparks of anger. My stomach sunk, a desperate moment when I knew I had been caught out. To my great relief however, I realised the patrons thought I had performed a bit of magic for theatrical effects, nothing more.

Silence hung thick in the air as my eyes darted to the men now staring directly at me, the room uneasy and suffocating for a split moment before breaking into bouts of laughter. Claps applauded and a few patrons shouted for me to do it again. Nodding in amusement the two men close to me carried on their banter, while the bald man held his serious gaze on me from afar.

After a few more spoons of soup that tasted like a dank puddle in Skyhold, the dark haired man from before took a chair at my table with a cheerful grin. Most likely in his late twenties, he was very tall and had shoulder length wavy black hair and eyes as black as midnight. Rough around the edges, unshaven and unkempt, he donned a sword of black ink tattooed down his right arm, and his ear held one piercing of a ring. Black.

‘Aye, so you’re a mage then?’ he observed cheerfully ‘Thought all you lot cleared out from here? With how the templars were acting after the Chantry blew up I could have sworn I’d never see a mage again.’

‘Just passing through.’ I murmured. Throwing him a nod, I decided to be civil. ‘My name’s Sparrow. Don't suppose you know of work or a free place to stay around here?’

The man nodded in turn. ‘Dryn Na’Druist.’ Taking another swill of his ale, he turned to point his mug behind him ‘That flamey bastard over there is Keets, and the bald one over there is The Mad Dagger. Don’t worry about him, he’s a right royal prick to everyone.’. Throwing a shifty glance around the tavern, Dryn edged his way a little closer and lowered his voice ‘Yeah, so I may know of someone who could use someone like you, with magic that is. Maybe? And it’s not honest work. If you're looking for that kind of thing?’

‘Can’t be choosy at this point.’ I shrugged, finishing the soup with a grimace ‘As long as I get paid and the Maker won’t damn me for eternity for doing it, I’m interested.’

‘Ah, can’t promise you that!’ chuckled Dryn with a wide smile ‘Besides the Maker ain’t in Kirkwall these days, didn’t you know!?’

‘The Maker ain’t in bloody Thedas last time I checked.’ eavesdropped the red haired man named Keets, plonking himself down at the table. ‘Fucking place is going to shite out in Ferelden and Orlais. All these damn green holes are appearing in the sky. As big as this fucking tavern from what I hear.’

‘Aye.’ nodded Dryn solemnly ‘’probably safer in Kirkwall these days than it is anywhere else. The irony, eh? What’s Thedas coming to? I blame those nugs, always the nugs fault, them bastards carry the blight did you know?’. The man flashed a wink before sculling his glass, more amused by his own antics over anything else in the tavern.

With a silent nod, I drew deep from my own glass. ‘So are you all...pirates?’ 

Dryn laughed, his voice echoing into the rafters above ‘Aye a fair while ago now, but we got out of that life. Problem with pirating, you see, is more often than not you end up dead!’.

'Ain't that the bloody truth.' muttered Keets.

'Coin's good though?' observed Dryn 'Kind of miss that gold through me fingers.'

'Can't spend coin when yer dead.' retorted Keets.

Dryn sighed. 'Ain't that the bloody truth.'

I chuckled as Dryn drank the few last drops dry from his empty mug, before knocking his knuckles on the wooden table ‘Aye these days we’re just good ol’ dock hands. Patchin' up galleons, carracks and gabbarts for the most part.’. Standing up, he started for the bar before turning to add ‘Give me a few days and I’ll see if me guy has any work for ya.’

With a small sigh I looked around the room uncertainly. ‘Well, you know where to find me.’

***

Running his fingers across her shoulders, he eased the soft cotton material of her dress down, revealing two ample breasts, the milky white of his teeth flashing a brilliant smile to the woman before he brought his lips to her bosom. Tongue running along her nipple, he licked and sucked with enthusiasm, eager to be savouring such delights as he pulled the dress further and further down, past her waist and hips, until it fell limp to the ground.

The woman sighed, running her hands enthusiastically through his blonde hair and across his muscular neck, trailing down his chiselled back to feel each ripped bulge along the way. His was a body that was hard and muscular, every part toned from the years spent in training, high thighs as hard as stone and his cock was a thick and mighty specimen, worthy of a man that kept such an impressive title.

Drawing his soft lips up to her red mouth, his pink tongue lapped warm into her, deeper and deeper. His ardour grew as he climbed over her and eased his cock up into her moist depths, his hands gently running through her red hair as he held her head gingerly. The rhythmic thrust of his cock started slowly and tenderly up into her core, courting her intimately, releasing a breathless collection of gasps and moans, as he withdrew and pushed back in, over and over and over again.

Running his large scar covered hands over her bare hips, he brought his grasp to her legs, holding them gently aside his waist as he began to increase his pace. Energetic and electric, buried hard and firm, his blonde hair spilled over her as he began to fuck her more vigorously. It was no longer courtly, it was no longer polite. Just firm iron fucks that needed to be done in order to get his release.

The woman’s moans were now growing louder and louder, drawing to a peak as the warrior moved inside her, his eyes closed in ecstasy as he pounded away, the pleasure growing and growing until she wailed out in pleasure. With one final thrust, he reached that point of no return.

‘Ophelia!!!’ he cried out as he came hard, releasing himself in a splash of sticky white cream.

Michel’s blue eyes opened fearfully, looking down at his companion.

‘Ophelia?’ replied the red haired woman in annoyance, pushing the man off her. ‘Fay. My name’s Fay, remember?’

‘I’m so sorry Fay.’ the ex-chevalier remarked hastily, trying to catch his breath ‘Fay, please...’

With a scowl, the women pulled back her long red hair and picked her brown dress from the bed. Roughly she pulled the garment over her head in furious silence, before walking past Michel with a salute of a finger, and out of the room leaving the naked Orlesian still panting on the bed.

Throwing his hand over his deep blue eyes Michel groaned in embarrassment, trying to block out what had just happened. In all honesty, he wasn’t too concerned about Fay, a woman he had only met hours prior at The Herald’s Rest. That was not his main concern. The issue that weighed heavily on his mind was irrelevant for the time being, and although he dreaded the Commander ever finding out about his hidden crush, he knew it remained safely tucked away. For now.

***

Easing himself into a rickety wooden chair in the main hall of Skyhold, Varric put his feet up and produced a small letter from his pocket. The ravens had arrived not an hour prior and a message boy had delivered the letter into the the hand of the dwarf, holding out the other in anticipation of a sweet, which Varric was always happy to oblige.

Hoping the letter would be from a publisher in Nevarra, he was surprised to find it was instead from an old acquaintance. To his further delight, the news was better than he could have ever anticipated.

Varric grinned, opening the letter to read once again for the hundredth time, the parchment already well worn at the edges.

Varric,

That girl you sent word round the network, the one you were searching for? Well there’s someone at the H.M who just arrived a few weeks back that matches that EXACT DESCRIPTION. Coincidence?

Corff

‘Well I’ll be....’ Varric muttered with a grin, shaking his head in delight ‘This day keeps on getting better and better.’. Unable to wipe the smile off his face, he folded the letter once more into his pocket with a pat.

A spring in his step and a merry tune on his lips, the rogue set off towards his chambers to send word immediately to Corff, innkeeper at The Hanged Man.

***

‘Oi! Are you gonna buy somefing or are ya just takin’ in the view?’ yelled a greasy bald innkeeper from behind the wooden bar. Pointing his short stubby finger at a cloaked figure slumped in the corner table of the room, he refused to ease up. 'Get the fuck out if you got no coin!'

‘Give me a minute.’ I muttered wearily.

‘Oh I’ll giv’ ya a minute, I’ll giv’ ya a bleedin five, outside on the street! Now buy somefing or get the fuck out of here! Paying patrons only.’

Standing up, I marched past the counter for the door, knocking over the tip jar on the way. The loose copper and silver coins rolled all over the floor as the innkeeper yelled more profanities on his knees, chasing desperately after the scattered coins.

Already growing dark outside, I continued along the laneway, taking a swift turn at the third alley, and walking on until the dead end approached.

‘You got it?’ whispered an eager voice, tucked away in the shadows.

‘Too easy!’ I grinned, producing a small journal. ‘You didn’t even need magic for that, just a distraction.’

‘Hah! Brilliant!’ exclaimed the voice. Hesitantly he came out of hiding behind the crate, a man of remarkable similar appearance to that of the bald innkeeper. With eager hands he grabbed the merchant ledger with glee. ‘That bastard brother of mine will get what’s coming to him now.’. Beaming, the man handed me a pouch ‘As agreed. You earned it.’

‘A pleasure.’ I replied, pocketing the reward. With a jump and a skip, I turned back into the main laneway, and began walking towards the docks.

Two days after arriving in Kirkwall I had made the unhappy discovery that my Inquisitor pouch of monies had run dry, leaving me in desperate search for somewhere to lay my head. After much deliberation of where to go and who to trust, I took it upon myself to befriend some of the local urchins who gathered about in the alley next to The Hanged Man, playing knuckles amongst the scattered wooden crates. My experience in a life full of nobles, cutthroats, peasants, farmers, templars, mages and soldiers, I found children to be the most honest and trustworthy of them all, so I knew who to ask for help.

Poor as chantry mice, they had not one copper between them, but what the urchins lacked in material assets they made up with a wealth of knowledge about the city, including safe places to sleep. After a few games of marbles, shadow puppets and hopscotch, I was directed to an abandoned warehouse in the docks where a few of the homeless families and many orphans resided. It was there, in one tiny room no bigger than the throne itself in Skyhold, that I made my home. It was mouldy, rat infested and dark but it was safe.

I was somewhat used to sad nights in The Ostwick Circle Tower, and at Haven, and then in Skyhold, but it was nothing compared to the first night sleeping in an abandoned warehouse. Looking around with tears in my eyes, I couldn’t fathom how I had ended up in such a situation. Once an Inquisitor of the mighty Inquisition, and now a homeless mage in Kirkwall. It wasn’t the loss of position that bothered me, and in all honestly I didn’t miss the responsibility one bit. No, it was the loss of my other half that left me cold on the inside.

My soul was crying out, nay screaming out, for Cullen Rutherford and yet still he didn’t answer back. Why? Why, when two souls so entwined, were we not able to communicate to each other? Did he hear me calling out to him, I wondered? In Skyhold, did he lift his head from his pillow at night and hear me whisper his name? Could he sense me thinking about him? I craved him desperately, wildly and even mournfully, for he had been my reason and my purpose, and now...he was gone.

True to his word, Dryn had managed to hook me up with a few odd jobs for coin, most of them involving putting people to sleep to rob their houses, or setting a noble’s hanky on fire so someone could grab their purse. Perhaps petty theft wasn’t as honourable as the role of Inquisitor but to be honest I couldn’t completely differentiate between the two positions, recalling how much looting we did on our missions throughout Thedas. Either way, I wasn’t too concerned. The more I spoke to Dryn, the more I was convinced that my survival was more important than ethics. 

The moon was high above as I continued to walk towards the docks, juggling my new earnings in my hand. Knowing one drink and a warm meal at the tavern was all I could afford, I intended to drag it out all night next to the fire instead of that cold warehouse. Of course, there were other reasons to seek the company of the tavern this particular night.

Happening across Hightown a week prior, I had spotted a remarkable pair of gloves for sale by a seller of magical weapons and armour, in a shop called Robes by Jean Luc. To my intrigue the gloves prevented one from casting magic, and to my further hope and delight, the moment I put them on the mark on my hand simply...vanished. At five sovereigns I knew I needed less than reputable work at a higher profit, and was determined to find Dryn to see if he knew of any more jobs.

The evening crowd at The Hanged Man was well on it’s way into drunken stupor when I entered the inn, heading for bar past a large group of pirates gathered around a table playing cards.

‘Aye you, Sparrow.’ called out Corff ‘Here’s yer key.’

The innkeeper dangled a brass key hanging off a loop of red ribbon, waiting for me to take it.

Narrowing my eyes, I folded my hands tight across my chest, standing back from the counter. ‘What's that for?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Yer lodgings have been paid for the next six months.' advised Corff gruffly 'Room four, up the stairs to the left. Keep yer door locked all the time. Don't leave any bloody candles burning if yer not in the room. And no grog in the room unless its from here. Savvy? Got good friends, eh?’

‘Hah!’ I chortled ‘All my friends play stick sword fights in the alleyways and ride old brooms for horses. What are you playing at?’

‘Tethras sent you some help, okay?’ he whispered, drawing a note from his apron ‘And he asked me to give you this.’

My heart skipped a beat as I hastily grabbed the note off the bartender, my fingers stumbling to quickly unfold it under my cloak;

Well shit! Of course it makes complete sense now where you’ve ended up. To rub it in my face! I guess the jokes on me, whilst you live it up in the finest place in Thedas I’m stuck here with this lot. Speaking of idiots, they don’t have a clue where you are. I'll keep it that way.

Anyway it’s good to hear you’re safe kid. Don’t ever look back. Oh and make sure you take up my offer, sleeping in Darktown is overrated.

P.S. Stay away from any clinics run by vigilante mages in Darktown

Your most dashing friend,

V

Corff nodded soundly as I looked back up at him in complete surprise. Leaving the key on the counter, he turned to pour more ale for a group of pirates at the end of the bar.

Gobsmacked and thankful, it felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders as I folded up the note and grabbed the key. With a grin I made my way to the back rooms, praising the Maker for sending me a friend like Varric. After the last few weeks I was more than a little eager to settle into such a fine establishment, at my new residence, The Hanged Man.

***

Haunted by actions that were about to unfurl, Cullen closed his amber eyes and drew his fingers into a tight clenched fist. His hand was held up to the door in miserable hesitation, desperate to delay the inevitable. In the other hand clutched a bottle of Carnal, 8:69 Blessed. The wind scattered leaves across his boots as he lingered outside the red door painted with gold and blue patterns. 

‘Forgive me.’ he whispered regretfully as his fist knocked sharply on the red door.

Knock, knock, knock

Muffled footsteps sounded on the other side, and the door creaked opened, revealing a displeased recipient.

‘What are you doing here?’ frowned Josephine, her eyes darting suspiciously to the Commander before her. 'What do you want Commander?'

The ex-templar flashed a warm smile, rubbing his neck with one hand while holding out the other that clutched the Orlesian bottle. ‘A peace offering, and a sincere apology for what happened a few weeks back. I confess I was in a terrible state, but even so that is no excuse for my monstrous behaviour.’

‘And you only came to apologise now?’ accused Josephine coldly, straightening her blue sleeve with agitated precision. ‘Not the day after? Even a week after? I’ve seen you since then in Skyhold, you had many opportunities to say something Commander.’

Cullen nodded seriously ‘I fear the warrior in me is ill accustomed to proper behaviour. And perhaps the man within is not as brave as the warrior. Not when it comes to beautiful women.’. With deep amber eyes, he held the Antivan’s with intensity ‘Josephine, can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I acted terribly, I am so sorry.’

Pausing for a moment, eyeing him up and down, Josephine suddenly broke into an embarrassed small smile ‘The entire thing was so silly. Of course, of course. We are fine.’

‘Good.’ smiled Cullen, taking a step closer to her ‘Because I would rather start over again, properly this time.’. He flashed a small smile before bashfully looking away, a smirk on his lips as he ran his hand through his mop of waves. 'May I come in for a short while?'

Stepping aside in surprise, Josephine silently held her hand out towards her room, and with a grin the Commander stepped forwards, taking in his surroundings as he walked into her abode.

‘What the-!? How is this room so much better than mine?!’ observed Cullen, playfully pretending to be outraged ‘It’s double the size of my loft, and look there! Is that a mahogany armoire? And that over there - where’s my red velvet daybed?’

Josephine laughed, walking over to an elegant wood and glass cabinet to withdraw two crystal glasses. ‘Oh yes Commander, I could see you lounged out on a daybed while you ordered your recruits to train.’

‘Now there’s a brilliant idea.’ entertained Cullen ‘I shall bark orders at them while some elegant Orlesian paints a portrait of me spread out on my meridienne.’. Waving his hand in jest he added ‘No, I fear your Antivan luxuries are better suited to more refined people, such as yourself.’

‘You think I am refined?’ mused Josephine, pouring the liqueur into the glasses ‘I do my best.’

‘I can see that.’ remarked Cullen softly, his thumb brushing playfully over his bottom lip. 'You take good care of yourself.'

Growing red as the rose liqueur in the glass she held, she offered it up to Cullen. ‘What shall we toast?’ she asked nervously.

‘To new beginnings?’ suggested the Commander.

Biting her lip, Josephine nodded ‘I think so...yes.’

Clinking the glasses, the pair drank deep, lost in an awkward moment that new friendships often produce in more intimate settings. Cullen kept his eyes on the ambassador, those smiling eyes drawing her in further and further.

In a fluster of nervousness, Josephine suddenly turned and walked over to the cabinet, pretending to busy herself with some trinkets. ‘Cullen.’ she spoke in a tremor ‘I appreciate the apology, but I fear I cannot forget your words from the other night.’

‘When I said that I loved Ophelia.’ replied Cullen softly.

‘Yes.’ replied Josephine ‘You said you still love her. So why are you here being so pleasant as you are?’

Cullen sighed, turning to pace the room as his thoughts unfolded ‘Can I speak plainly with you? What Ophelia did was unforgivable. By Andraste, I cannot and will not forgive her. But accept what she has done I must, and I believe the last few weeks have enabled me to process this.’. The Commander walked up towards Josephine whose back was still turned, and he gently touched her arm, causing the Antivan to turn back to him nervously. ‘Do I love her?’ remarked Cullen gently ‘To be honest, and I do want to be honest with you Josephine, I do love her. Do I want to feel that love anymore? No. I wish I could be rid of her now, and all the things we shared. For they do not matter to me if I cannot respect her.’. He shook his head, taking another sip ‘I am from the Order of Templars. We dedicate our lives to the Maker and we value morality very highly. Well, you can guess what we expect of mages. These values are something I require from a partner. Ophelia has let me down and there is no going back.’

‘Ophelia does not possess these values.’ agreed Josephine ‘She never did.’

‘You're right.’ agreed Cullen ‘I know that now, and accept it. When you saw me that night on the battlements, I hadn’t had the time to obtain that clarity or to understand it as I do now. You saw me angry and betrayed, and I in turn unleashed that on you. For that, I am terribly sorry.’

Josephine grabbed Cullen’s left hand intensely, interlacing her fingers through his ‘I forgive you. I meant what I said, I want to be here for you. Ophelia did betray you, she did, in the worst way possible, but at least you now know what she is. Don’t you see? You are lucky to be away from her and unharmed. She is a foul deceptress.’ 

His eyes softened with a tilt of his head and his hand reached out to her face. 'May I?' he asked ever so sweetly.

Josephine bit her lip and nodded with a smile.

With a gentle but strong hand, Cullen cupped Josephine’s face in his palm. ‘So gracious and wise a creature I never beheld.’ he murmured ‘Why have I not seen this until now?’. Placing his glass down on the table, the Commander brought his other hand to her cheek, drawing her closer towards him.

Approaching gently, the Commander’s lips were inches away from hers, before he pressed them lightly upon the Antivan’s mouth in a soft kiss, running his arms around her waist as she drew hers around his shoulders, the two melting into a warm embrace.

Pulling away, Cullen bashfully went back to his glass of wine, taking a rather large, drawn out sip as the Antivan remained grinning, looking at the floor in gleeful delight.

‘I have wanted to do that for some time.’ confessed Cullen ‘Forgive me, was it too much?’

‘No.’ replied Josephine with a delighted giggle ‘Just...unexpected.’

Easing himself back onto his chair, Cullen poured another glass of wine. ‘But not unrequited, I hope?’. Raising his glass, he added with a laugh ‘I have another toast. To my new endeavour!’

Josephine sipped, only to pull away with a puzzled look ‘What endeavour is this?’

‘I confess I am in better spirits as of late for many reasons.’ chuckled Cullen ‘Ophelia's betrayal has forced me onto a righteous path. I have finally found my purpose, something I was not able to pursue to its full extent whilst I was apart of the templar order. But now? Over the last few weeks I have dedicated my time to writing a doctrine to cleanse the realm of blood mages. I call it the Declaration of Morality, and the wheels are already set in motion.’

‘Really? How wonderful!’ remarked Josephine, taking another sip with a pleased smile ‘How do you intend to rid of them?’

‘My agents will weed them out.’ answered Cullen confidently ‘If it takes my last breath I will rid the realm of every last blood mage.’. With a concerned look, he added suddenly ‘Forgive me, I should not discuss such barbaric details with a lady. Let us stop conversing about such things immediately.’

Josephine laughed ‘Oh Cullen, I have heard of more disturbing things during one hour in the Orlesian court than you could ever tell me.’

‘Well then.’ grinned Cullen ‘Can you promise to keep a secret? I confess I am so excited about it I cannot contain it a moment longer.’

‘I assure you of my secrecy.’ grinned Josephine, taking another sip.

‘We have located three blood mages in the local area already.’ remarked Cullen in a hushed whisper 'Can you believe it?'

‘Really.’ remarked Josephine, taking a hasty sip.

‘Yes.’ replied Cullen sitting straighter in his chair, his enthusiasm growing ‘And we intend to raid each of them in three days time at dawn. Three mages in three days, it sounds almost poetic doesn't it? I can scarcely wait to be honest. No trial for these monsters, I shall be their judge, jury and executioner. Oh we shall execute them, don’t you worry...well after we interrogate them, naturally.’. Cullen poured more liqueur into his glass, turning to do the same for his companion with a warm smile ‘I shall have the pleasure of running my blade through these maleficar again. It is more than I could have hoped for.’

‘Why bother interrogating them, just kill them all.’ dismissed Josephine, turning to draw the curtains to conceal the concern covering her face.

‘Well no, that’s the most important part.’ explained Cullen ‘We shall obtain the names of other maleficar that those maleficar know of, and their connections, and all the details of their disgusting practices. Names, places, people, I want every last skerrick of information before I kill each and every one. The trials will be large and the details sordid, it'll get the heart pumping I guarantee you.’

Turning around once more, Josephine threw a weak smile ‘Well, cheers to that.’

‘Indeed.’ replied the Commander cheerfully.

‘Now, where were we?’ grinned Josephine, eager now to change the subject.

With a smile, the ex-templar stood up as the Antivan approached, drawing her hands to run along his metal cuirass. ‘I’d like this off.’ she teased 'May I?'.

‘Some more liqueur first perhaps?’ suggested Cullen ‘This Orlesian liqueur is sinfully pleasurable.’

Josephine shook her head, biting her lip as she drew closer to the ex-templar.

A small flicker of his eyes to the door, Cullen chuckled, drawing his hands slowly to her waist, pulling her against him, and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. Growing more aroused, Josephine began to tug at Cullen’s attire, fondling for his belt. The Antivan skillfully undid the clasp after a few moments of tugging, and without a moments hesitation lowered her hands into the Commander’s nether garments, her slender fingers finally brushing against what she had been desperately searching for.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted the pair, and Cullen quickly pulled himself away from the Antivan.

‘Ugh what now?’ cried out Josephine, retreating to the door and opening it to reveal an uncertain Michel de Chevin.

‘Uhh Ambassador, what a lovely afternoon it is?’ greeted Michel, kicking his black boots awkwardly into the grey stone wall next to her door ‘I don’t suppose, uh, that the Commander is in there by any chance?’

‘None of your business, now go.’ snapped Josephine, ready to close the door again.

The ex-chevalier quickly held the door open ‘It’s just that one of our recruits said they spotted the Commander pass this way. Into your chambers.’. Flashing a charming smile, the Orlesian added ‘The recruits are all waiting for him, you see, at the training circle. Right now.’

‘Dammit.’ muttered Cullen from within the room.

‘What is it?’ replied Josephine in surprise, turning to the Commander behind her.

Rubbing his brow, Cullen waved off the question ‘Foolish, I forgot I was meeting my blasted recruits for the sunset drill today. Michel, can’t you take this one? Come on man, you owe me a favour.’

‘I apologise Commander,’ replied Michel, looking embarrassed ‘I’m not familiar with the procedure of the sunset drill. If you don't get there soon someone is going to get injured by that trebuchet and I won't be able to stop it.’

‘Perfect.’ replied Josephine in annoyance.

‘Fine.’ muttered Cullen, before turning to Josephine. ‘I shall make it up to you.’ Cullen murmured, stroking her waist ‘Soon, I promise.’

‘Perfect.’ grinned the Antivan, allowing the Commander to pass her.

‘Until next time, my lady.’ Cullen whispered next to her ear as he turned to depart with Michel, leaving Josephine and her chambers.

Sweeping down the stone cloisters, Cullen hastened his pace as he strode furiously through the gardens. Devilishly mad in spirits he wiped his mouth in disgust, and spat into a nearby bush of dragonthorn, muttering under his breath ‘Oh I’ll make it up to you, don’t you worry about that.’

‘Cullen? Is everything alright?’ asked Michel uncertainly, trying to keep up with his companion’s heated pace.

‘You took your damn sweet time.’ growled Cullen, throwing a displeased look to the ex-chevalier ‘What exactly were you waiting for? A blasted invitation?’

‘I had my ear pressed hard against that door the entire time.’ replied Michel defensively ‘Whilst trying not to look like some Orlesian lurker when the occasional person passed by.’

‘We agreed you’d knock immediately after my speech about the raids on those three mages.’ replied Cullen furiously 'All you had to do was knock. One thing. One simple bloody thing.'

‘I couldn’t hear a thing except murmurs.’ retorted Michel indignantly ‘Her door is four inches thick of solid oak at least. When the talking ceased, I decided it was best to knock. What did you exactly do in there?’

The displeased look on the Commander’s face was all the answer Michel de Chevin needed to keep quiet on the subject.

‘So...do you think she took the bait?’ asked the ex-chevalier in a low voice.

Cullen frowned as he threw his eyes around the courtyard, ensuring no one was listening to their conversation. ‘I believe so, yes.’ he muttered softly ‘She knows our plan, now we must watch her.’

‘So now we wait in the stableyard, up in Blackwall’s loft, for three days and nights until she decides, if she decides, to go warn this Levyn character.’ remarked Michel doubtfully ‘I still think it sounds a little optimistic.’

‘If I was relying on Josephine’s compassion for another to lead us to Levyn, then yes I would agree we are wasting our time.’ replied Cullen ‘However she knows her dealings with this blood mage are at risk of being revealed to the Commander of the Inquisition. Don’t worry, she’ll go and warn this mage in order to save her own neck.’

Michel shrugged ‘I guess I’m off to the stables then. I’ll see you there when you’ve finished the sunset drill.’

‘I look forward to it.’ muttered Cullen wearily, turning towards the training circle. Perhaps the drill with his recruits was the last thing the Commander wished to do at present, but he was more than eager to ram his shield hard into the wooden targets, imagining all the while it was one person in particular.


	16. A Foe's Perspective

Crisp pages aged in ram leather binding and a heady mustiness of paper sweet and stale lingered in the air. Soft flamed oozing beeswax candles lit the dark chamber with a gentle light that tickled and teased the heavy shadows, and the warm scent of honey threatened to lull even the sharpest minds into a blissful state of slumber. Hurled up in a corner of the circular library and barely awake, one Nevarran was busily spending the morning reading through a large pile of Andrastian texts. Brow furrowed and lip bitten, Cassandra was growing more and more frustrated by the hour, unable to find the answer she was desperately searching for.

Loud footsteps resonated behind her, and looking up she was greeted by a familiar dwarven face approaching.

'Varric.' remarked Cassandra with a small curl on her lips 'Have you come to help me research?'

Reaching out his hand curiously, Varric turned the book Cassandra was holding to view its front cover, shaking his head with a chuckle upon reading its title.

'Well now I know why you've been carrying around that kill me now expression on your face for the last few days!' chortled the dwarf 'What have I told you about reading Andrastian literature? Apart from inducing nausea, self loathing and uncontrollable bouts of shame, it'll send you into an early grave!'

Cassandra burst out laughing, a flighty and happy laugh that she never revealed to many. Grinning, Varric whipped out the item he was concealing behind his back.

'Forget that nonsense Seeker, I have a real book for you to study.' announced Varric theatrically, handing over a roughly bound collection of loose pages on his forearm, as if presenting the council member with a magnificent sword of steel.

'No!' gasped Cassandra, eyes lighting up in delight 'It's not...?'

'The latest instalment of Swords and Shields,' confirmed Varric with a grin 'ink's still fresh. You're welcome Seeker!'

Hastily, if not downright desperately, Cassandra seized the book off her friend, letting the other chantry text she was studying fall unceremoniously to the ground. Eagerly she began leafing through the papers, consumed for a moment, before finally looking back to her companion. A curious tilt of her head, she noticed the rogue was dressed in his travelling gear.

'Are you going somewhere?'

'Alas this handsome dwarf must fare thee well.' confirmed Varric dramatically.

'You're leaving?' she added doubtfully 'For good?'

'Ha ha hah!' laughed Varric 'Now Seeker, what would you do without me? I'd hate to think. No, just a short trip. Family duties I'm afraid. A quick visit to Bartrand in Kirkwall and I shall return.'

With a roll of her eyes, she produced a small laugh before growing serious again. 'How is your brother?' asked Cassandra, a small crease presenting on the crest of her eyebrow, a mark revealed whenever she was concerned 'Has he improved much since the incident?'

'Oh he's positively seeing red at the moment.' quipped Varric. Sighing wearily he added 'As good as one could expect someone to be after being addled by red lyrium. Ah but he's none the wiser as to everything that happened. Gotta take your wins when your can.'

'Does he remember anything?' asked Cassandra gently.

Varric appeared dismal, but in the typical style of the dwarf refused to be overwhelmed by it. 'He has his moments, a few seconds when he recognises me, and then returns to his ramblings. I dunno, I gotta tell myself that deep down he knows I'm there for him even if he doesn't know it. Family has to stick together eh? Through thick and thin. That's the way its gotta be.'

With a caring, and quite possibly affectionate smile, Cassandra placed her hand on Varric's arm. The dwarf startled for a split second before throwing Cassandra a warm smile of his own.

'Now don't you go getting all sentimental on me,' warned a rather pleased looking Varric 'you'll turn this dwarf into a blubbering mess.'. With a gentle squeeze of his own hand on her arm, the dwarf threw a nod of appreciation to his friend.

'Come back soon Varric, that's an order.' added Cassandra before turning her eyes eagerly back to the story before her.

A fond smile on his lips, Varric took one last glance of Cassandra before turning to head down the stairs, eager to reach his destination and enjoy a few drams of The Hanged House Whisky by the end of the week.

*******

Soft brown leather boots lightly tip-toed amongst the loose limp hay that lay scattered on the ground, its sweet aroma mingled with the pungent smell of fresh manure. Quietly, she crept through the loft and towards the stairs, ascending carefully, stepping on the outer edge of the steps to avoid the inevitable wooden creak of the tired timber planks. Eyes lifting as she ascended to meet the upper level, she discovered two men with their backs to her, eagerly watching Master Dennet and his horses through the slits in the wooden loft wall.

Without a sound, quiet step after quiet step, she crept behind the dwellers before clearing her throat loudly in annoyance.

'Ahem'

The two men jumped like frightened mice as they spun around to face the woman, causing a smirk from the spymaster.

'Commander Cullen and Maister of Blades. I've been looking for you both since this morning. A few of your soldiers kindly informed me that you had both been called away to the Western Approach, although I suspected it would have been hard to ride all that way with your horses still saddled in the stable yard, no? Curiosity perhaps took hold, and here I find you both...in the intimate settings of a stable loft.'

Cullen rolled his eyes whilst Michel replied with an amused chuckle.

'He promised a candlelit supper as well.' grinned the ex-chevlier 'With the prospect of dancing afterwards?'

'One could only hope.' replied Leliana dryly, throwing a cynical raised brow to the Commander.

Leliana remained steadfast, arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

Austere in manner and looking utterly consumed by the past few weeks, Cullen motioned for Leliana to join them. 'Come sit down, we have some very serious matters that need to be addressed, and I fear you will be all the worse off for it when you hear what we have to say.'

Cullen and Michel began to recount their trials over the last four weeks, leaving the spymaster to grow more and more rigid and stiff jawed by the minute. By the end of their tale, two dimples presented hard on her porcelain white cheeks, as she pursed her lips in utter contempt.

'You knew all this and kept it from me? From the council?' observed an incensed Leliana 'How could you be so reckless?'

'Josephine is apart of the damn counsel!' replied Cullen heatedly 'This was our only chance to gain proof that she was responsible for what had happened on the Imperial Highway.'

'And you couldn't have just come to me with this information?!' hissed Leliana 'Josie and I are not attached to the hip.'

'It's funny because it appeared to me like you and Josie were.' retorted Cullen sharply 'I'm well aware your friendship with her goes way back.'

'As does ours.' retorted Leliana coldly.

Cullen frowned at the comment. 'It wasn't about you. I feared you were too close to get you involved.'

'Then tell Cassandra!.' growled the spymaster 'Tell someone Cullen, instead of always keeping everything to yourself. You are not the council in its entirety.'

'Neither are you, spymaster.' growled Cullen 'And this is not the time for us to argue about power plays. If I have information that could weaken our cause if put in the wrong hands. You have a conflicted interest where the Ambassador is concerned. I'm sorry you didn't know sooner, but you know now. As for Cassandra Pentaghast, once again, I assumed The Right Hand would have been keen to inform The Left.'

'And do you think I would put the Inquisition and the Inquisitor at risk and dismiss Josie's actions?' pressed Leliana angrily 'I would have thought you out of everyone would have known the sacrifice I have given to this cause. I would not let anything or anyone stand in our way.'. Leliana threw a displeased look towards Cullen, a hint of hurt betraying her eyes, and he in turn softened his stern face.

'I was mistaken.' apologised Cullen 'I could not take the risk. I'm sorry Leliana, I never meant to hurt you.'

'Andraste guide me, I cannot believe all this that you've told me.' sighed Leliana 'A malificar? Why would Josie do that? No, it cannot be. What would possess her to do such a thing?'. Her green eyes flickered to Cullen 'Then again...'

'What is that supposed to mean?' frowned the Commander.

Recalling a former conversation with Josie after the Skyhold Tourney, Leliana sighed tiredly. 'Josie mentioned to me once that she fancied you and considered Ophelia somewhat unworthy. I dismissed it as a mere infatuation. Looking back now perhaps I underestimated her interest in you?'

'Infatuation does not even begin to describe it.' muttered Cullen with disdain 'Do you see now what we're dealing with?!'

'I still can't believe what you have told me.' frowned Leliana.

'Can't or won't?' accused Cullen 'It is a huge betrayal to the Inquisition. She has disgraced herself and in turn, all of us.'

Resting her back against a bale of hay, Leliana sat with the men. 'Then I shall reside to wait here until the truth is presented, or hopefully dismissed.'

'We might be here for a while.' warned Michel.

'It takes as long as it takes, but we will have this resolved.' replied Leliana darkly.

A blue sky riddled with streaky wafts of white cloud slowly faded into a purple red sunset by the evening, and still the three remained in the loft, ever watchful. As the sunset melted away into a clear, frosty night of blue black hue, there was still no sign of Josephine Montilyet, to the dismay of Cullen and the relief of Leliana. The soft hoot of a barn owl in the wooden rafters above and the ragged deep snoring of Blackwall below were their only diversion as midnight came and passed, eyes lulling as they maintained their desperate attention through the small cracks of the wall. However as the first peak of sunlight filtered across the horizon, like the outstretched hands of the Maker embracing the land, two silent figures swiftly approached the stable yard.

'Look, there is someone approaching.' Cullen observed eagerly in a hushed whisper 'Is it her? I can't see who it is with that damnable cloak over their head.'

With sad green eyes, Leliana nodded her head. 'There is only one person I know that wears a purple damask coat in Skyhold. It is Josie.'

'She's going to warn him.' growled the Commander 'What else would she be doing? We must be prepared to leave at once.'

'Who's she with.' frowned Michel, sleepily trying to focus his eyes on the second person.

'One of the keep's errand staff.' whispered Leliana, watching the helper saddle a brown horse for Josephine as she remained hidden in the shadows by a birch tree near the wall of the keep. 'Josie what are you doing?'

Leliana appeared woeful as she spied on her friend through the wooden slits. Slowly she eased herself off the hard loft floor, beginning to leave, and Cullen and Michel followed suit before being stopped by the spymaster.

'No. I go alone,' instructed Leliana 'I know how to track someone without being caught. You two will only bring attention in your full plate armour and war horses.'

'Not a chance.' argued Cullen sternly 'You're going to face a maleficar, you'll need more than yourself to deal with that. Perhaps you can track better but you can't dispel magic. We can ride far back from you and track your trail, but we're going one way or the other.'

'Fine, but stay back.' warned Leliana 'If Josie hears other horses on her trail your chances of finding this maleficar are over.'

Returning to the wall, the men watched silently as Josephine mounted her horse and galloped hurriedly through the courtyard of Skyhold, out across the bridge and down the path of the Frostback Mountains. Several minutes later Leliana rode out on her black horse, silent as the grave.

'Come on.' muttered Cullen to Michel 'It's time to ready out horses.'. Hastily the pair retreated from the loft to mount their horses, a growing sense of uneasiness covering them as they realised they were soon enough going to be entertaining the company of a blood mage.

The coarse leather of the reins were cutting into her frozen hands as the spymaster continued to follow Josephine down Gherlen's Pass, hours passing along the shard stone path until they turned onto the leafy forest paths of Ferelden, at the base of the mountain range. The hopes of her friend merely taking a ride for the fresh morning air had somewhat faded by the time midday approached and then passed. All hopes were dashed in their entirety when Leliana spotted Josephine dismounting at an old hut covered in vines, as much a part of the forest as the trees themselves, and only recognisable to those who were familiar of its location.

Biting her lip, Leliana dismounted a distance away before pressing on, inching closer towards the door of the hut that remained ajar since her friend had desperately barged in. As the spymaster approached, she discovered a frenzied Antivan appealing to a man inside.

'You're not listening!' cried Josephine desperately 'They know you are here, you have to leave now.'

'You are certain?' the man replied, already fastening numerous items to his belt pocket 'Who told you?'. Looking displeased, he fumbled for a pouch on the top of his herb shelf, knocking several bottles onto the floor, the glass shattering 'How did they find me?'

'What does it matter!?' snapped Josephine 'They just did! You need to leave here before they capture you and interrogate you.'

Rubbing his temples, it was apparent the man was trying to wrap his head around the situation of fleeing, casting his dark eyes across the room before noticing he had an uninvited guest, watching intently at the door.

Stepping into the room with an arrow drawn fast, Leliana threw a surprised look towards the mage upon seeing his face, for it was not the first time it had graced her presence.

'Jowan?' uttered Leliana in surprise 'Jowan, is that you?'

Shaking his head, the mage muttered a few obscenities under his breath before addressing the spymaster. 'What are you doing here?' he asked coldly, throwing an accusing look to Josephine 'You covered your tracks well, I see? Didn't care to think you were being followed?'

'Leliana, wh-what are you doing here?' cried out Josephine, her voice trembling as she realised she had been discovered in such a place.

'Funny, I was going to ask you the exact same question.' replied Leliana dryly 'How could you Josie? I know everything.'

'Everything?' asked the Antivan with a quivering lip.

'Everything.' replied Leliana sternly.

'Unbelievable.' muttered Jowan. Pointing an accusatory finger at the Antivan, the mage looked irate. 'That is the last time I help anyone ever again.'

'I didn't tell a soul!' protested Josephine, throwing a desperate look to the mage 'She must have followed me!'

Gasping a yelp, the Ambassador's attention was now drawn behind her friend, to the door, where she recognised a pair of furious looking men who had suddenly appeared, swords drawn and seething with rage.

'You?!' remarked Cullen, eyeing the mage in disbelief. 'Jowan? By Andraste, don't tell me...'

'Cullen?' remarked a startled Jowan, looking a little more fearful now yet still somewhat amused. 'It has been too long between visits. What a lovely reunion this has turned out to be.'

'You know each other?' observed Michel in surprise, his hands firm on his sword and outstretched, ready for an attack.

'Cullen used to watch over me, isn't that right?' smirked Jowan 'We were one big happy family in the middle of Lake Calenhad, weren't we?'

'He was a mage at the Ferelden Circle Tower.' informed Cullen 'A blood mage that fled before the siege.'

Jowan released a scornful laugh at the Commander's comment. 'Resorting to name calling already? Tell me Cullen, do you have something against maleficar now? Don't you know templars in glass circles shouldn't throw stones!'

Michel threw Cullen a confused look. 'What's he talking about?'

Leliana held her arrow pointed firm at the mage. 'Don't encourage him.'

Shaking his head, Jowan looked over to Michel and Leliana 'It appears Cullen forgot to mention that he was involved with a maleficar at the Circle? Lovestruck fools, well...one fool and one blood mage I suppose. How terribly, terribly hypocritical.'

'It's no surprise to me now that you and Sierra were in cahoots.' scoffed Cullen, disinterested in being inflamed by the mage before him. 'Although tell me, which one of you started down that corrupted path first? I can't for the life of me figure out who was the brains in that endeavour. You both seem pathetically inept.'

Jowan shrugged 'Chicken or the egg? You can't tell me that our wonderful knack of blood magic hasn't served Thedas well though? Look at Sierra now! Hero of Ferelden.'

'You seem to be doing remarkably well also.' observed Michel sarcastically, eyeing the squalor filled ageing hut with more than a little disdain.

'Oh don't let this place delude you as to what I have accomplished over the years.' replied Jowan pleasantly 'Appearances will deceive you time and time again, but I do not have to tell that to an Orlesian now do i?.'. Turning his attention to Leliana he added with an amused smile 'You have helped me once? Surely you could manage the same thing again? Let me go Leliana and I won't tell everyone how you released me from the Redcliffe Castle dungeons, against the orders of the Arlessa.'. Grinning he added with a chuckle 'Loghain Mac Tir gets me to poison the Arl, and this one here lets me go on my merry way. Just like that! I assumed such acts made us friends?'

'Sierra released you.' replied Leliana, drawing her bow sharper 'I would have happily left you there to rot.'

'Well hindsight and such.' dismissed Jowan, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly as he continued to pack items from a nearby table into his pockets.

'So you are the one behind all this?' growled Cullen 'Did you release Imshael into the realm?'. Drawing his attention angrily onto Josephine, Cullen added 'On this fool's orders, I suppose?'

Frantically, as if possessed by her own desperation in light of what she had done, Josephine ran towards Cullen with her hands outstretched. 'Cullen I did it for us. For you. I knew what Ophelia was like and I knew I needed to protect you from her.' she pleaded.

Placing her hands on his armoured chest, Cullen's face was contorted in loathing vehemence.

'Get away from me.' he growled.

'I love you Cullen, that is why I did this.' appealed Josephine, refusing to leave the man. 'You were involved with a mage and see how easily she turned to blood magic? You cannot trust her.'

Steel sword clutched tight in his left, he raised his gauntleted right and used the back side of his hand to smash her hard across the face, a sickening crunch of impact filling the room and the force throwing her backwards onto the floor with a loud thud.

Jowan shook his head, casting a frown to Josephine who was now sobbing on her knees, bloody hands covering her face in pain .

'Well since my partner in crime is at a loss for words, I shall say on her behalf it was only done out of love.' informed the mage 'The sweet, blissful, ever so pure act of love. Surely that diminishes her actions somewhat?'

'Josie how could you?' scorned Leliana 'Why would you even contemplate such a thing?'

Tears splashing down her bright red cheek, merging with the trail of blood now descending from her nose, she smeared the liquids with her already moist sleeve. 'I wanted him Leliana, that''s all.'

'You disgust me.' spat Cullen 'Mercy stay my hand from running you through in this very room, for I cannot promise it won't come to that. Did you realise what danger you've put us all in? Not just the Inquisition, but all the innocent victims that demon is now murdering. I absolutely loathe you.'

'Now, now Cullen that is undeserving.' reproached Jowan with a sarcastic snicker 'Anyone who summons a demon for you is a well worthy suitor. There's a lot of effort behind that gesture.'

'Why Imshael?' demanded Michel who had been seething in the shadows until now 'Why summon him in particular?'

Jowan shrugged 'I summoned a demon to aid me in possessing the man Josephine asked to be possessed. Imshael answered and was more than happy to oblige.'

'You bastards, do you realise what you have unleashed?' cried out the enraged Orlesian 'You have the blood of many on your hands now, and more will come.'

Breaking out into more hysterical sobs, the Antivan pressed her hands on her face and started shaking.

Jowan sighed wearily. 'I warned her of that, really I did. Truly I'm as innocent as the rest of you.'

Cullen scoffed as Leliana tightened her bow aim on Jowan.

'You'll both be executed for this.' threatened Cullen, resulting in a cry of hysterics from Josephine and an even heavier sigh from Jowan. 'And you Jowan are even more pathetic now than when you were back at the tower.'

The amusement suddenly drained from the mage's face, his demeanour growing suddenly cold.

'Pathetic?' observed the mage, the candles flickering dangerously in the hut 'Do you know who is the truly pathetic? You non-mages, the people that judge and scorn and claim we are the disgraced children of the Maker. I was abandoned by my own parents at the age of five because they were disgusted by magic. Five. Can you imagine what that does to a child, knowing your parents are loathed as to what you are. Something I have no control of? My mother called me an abomination, that was my name until I was dumped onto the stairs of a chantry like an old, discarded faeces covered rag. And I'm not the only one, most mages began their life on similar terms. Out of the frying pan into the fire, and you templars only added to that concoction of misery. We all grew up feeling inferior, born into a life of servitude with only loathing and distrust as our payment, while all along faced with people like you calling us pathetic. PATHETIC! You stand here and judge us for resorting to blood magic? WE HAD NO CHOICE! Force a man into a corner with a sword in his face, he will retaliate.'

'If you're looking for sympathy you'll find none here.' dismissed Cullen 'Playing the victim will not save you now.'

Raising a cloaked arm, Jowan thrust it towards the Commander 'And there it is! Unwilling to acknowledge, let alone try to understand, another perspective. An Order full of sheep. Tell me, how is the Harrowing any less barbaric than blood magic? Throwing a defenceless mage into the fade as part of a trial, and if they fail? It's like throwing an infant into a pond and telling them to swim to the shore or die. Oh, and then of course there is that insidious practice of The Rite Of Tranquillity! You take away our spirit by your own foul practices. And for what? To punish those mages with the gall to think independently. The ones that you interpret as being uncontrollable? You make us face demons, and then wonder why some of us see that as an option down the track. No, you templars are the real demons. You are the pathetic ones.'

Cullen's eyes narrowed hard on the mage before him 'Do not justify your foulness to me. Your blood magic only hurts everyone around you. Or do I have to remind you of Lily?'

'Do not speak her name.' threatened Jowan dangerously 'Don't you dare insult her memory. My magic never hurt her.'

Cullen shrugged in an unconvinced manner. 'That's a matter of perspective. She helped you escape the Circle, and when you were caught she found out about your disgusting little practices when you cast blood magic in front of us all. She could have fled with you, had a life with you, but your blood magic revolted her and kept her bound to the Order.'

Deathly quiet, Jowan glared at Cullen with a look of utter hatred.

'Do you know what happened to her?' asked Cullen darkly 'I do. After you fled, Knight-Commander Greagoir sent her to the mage prison Aeonar. Can you imagine? She wasn't even a mage, and she was subjected to that place.'

'Be quiet.' threatened Jowan, his dark eyes pressed angrily on the Commander.

'She spent a decade imprisoned in that stone dungeon.' continued Cullen 'I suppose you've never been there? Well I have and I can tell you the Circle tower is an Orlesian palace compared to that place. A decade she spent there, locked up and subjected to some of the most disgusting and invasive tests ever created by the order, all to determine whether she was possessed.'

'I said BE QUIET!' shouted Jowan, clutching his head in agony 'Do not speak of her! Lies! Lies! All lies!'

Cullen's eyes drew heatedly onto Jowan 'Lily died in the prison. Tens years of torture beyond your wildest dreams and then she died alone. Her last moments in this life, shackled to a stone wall in Aeonar, her last breath NO DOUBT CURSING THE DAY SHE MET THE LIKES OF YOU BLOOD MAGE!'

'SILENCE!' screamed Jowan, his moist eyes growing bloodshot and wild.

Filled with uncontrollable rage, a ball of fire emitted from Jowan's hands, hurling it towards Cullen who leaped out of the way and crashed heavily to the ground. The wall caught fire, hissing and spitting into the dry wood of the cabin.

Grabbing Josephine's hand, Jowan suddenly swooped over her, wrapping his black cloak around them both. An arrow hissed by Cullen and Michel, landing into the black material that fell limp to the ground. One loose black cloak on the floor of the hut with no one underneath it. Jowan and Josephine had simply vanished.

'What the fuck was that?' roared Cullen in outrage, standing over the discarded cloak 'What just happened?! Where are they? How did he do that?'

Walking over to the cloak, Leliana removed the arrow from the material, studying it with intrigue. 'Magic like nothing I have ever seen. A teleportation spell taking another with him, and so effortlessly.'. She looked up to Cullen, genuine concern in her face 'Jowan has become extremely powerful.'

'Let's get out of here.' frowned the Commander 'Wherever they are, they're gone. Now we need to plan as to how to get them back.'. Kicking the door open, the Commander marched out.

'Jowan may be the only key to locating Imshael.' warned Michel, looking fearfully at Leliana 'How will we ever find them?'

Coughing from the smoke now filling the hut, Leliana hastily made her way past the ex-chevalier towards the door. 'I don't know but there's one thing for certain I am sure of. They know where to find us.'

'They won't come looking for us, surely?' replied Michel.

Leliana threw an angry look out the door 'After what our Commander just said to Jowan I fear you may be wrong in that assumption. Let us hope you are not.'. Turning to the ex-chevalier, she grabbed his hand, encouraging him out of the burning hut 'Come, we have to advise the members of the Inquisition about this horrid state of affairs.'

Playfully grabbing me around the neck, the dark haired pirate pulled me along. Our black boots scuffed heavily along the walkway as we paced the stone courtyard of Hightown.

'You and those poncy gloves.' mused Dryn 'Are you happy now? Going on at me to hook you up with another job. Oh please Dryn, please Dryn, you're so wonderful Dryn, I have no money to buy bread, please do you have a job for me? Next minute I know you're living in The Hanged Man and buying pairs of fancy brown gloves from Hightown.'

Chuckling, I admired my recent purchase with arms outstretched, my fingers wriggling in delight and without one skerrick of the mark in sight. Never had I felt so normal and so happy for it.

'I never said you were wonderful.' I taunted 'Besides, do you know how many pickpockets I had to do in order to earn these. So I like wearing gloves. Lost my last pair a while back.'

'You flamin' lyin bastard!' retorted Dryn 'You're trying to impress someone aren't you?'

'With gloves?' I replied flatly, raising my eyebrow to the smirking ex-pirate 'Who the blazes would try and impress someone with gloves? Does that even work?'

'Ah hah! Avoiding the question.' jeered Dryn 'There's someone!'

My demeanour suddenly grew quiet, as we turned down the stairs towards Lowtown. 'There's no one.' I reassured.

'Right-o.' taunted Dryn 'Sounds like it.'

'Okay lord insightful there was someone once but he turned out to be...what's the phrase you use?' I clicked my fingers 'A right royal prick.'

'Sounds like a scullion.' grinned the ex-pirate 'What'd he do? Insult yer gloves?'

Sighing, I rubbed my gloved hands together uneasily. 'I was a mage and he was a templar. Well you know how the rest goes. He never trusted mages, and in the end it all came...spilling out onto me.'

'Hah, best take cover when that sort of thing happens.' jeered Dryn 'You must be a sucker for punishment. What dolt of a prisoner falls for their jail keeper! That's insanity that is, who'd go for a stuffy glorified chantry guard?'

'Someone who likes punishment.' I quipped 'Anyway fuck him, I'm not spending my down time here talking about that shite. When the ship's heading for the rocks, it's the best time to jump.'. With that, I leapt from the third last step, landing heavily onto the stone path of Lowtown.

Dryn laughed, jumping down the steps. 'You're coining the pirate phrases like a proper sea rapscallion. My job here is done!'

'Oh no you don't.' I grinned 'You don't get to interrogate me and then change the subject. What about you Messere I once was a pirate and now I'm a law abiding citizen? What's your story?'

'Too many questions.' replied Dryn with a smirk and a knowing wink 'You're as bad as that fortune teller down at the docks'

'What are you talking about.'

Dryn clicked his fingers. 'You know the one! That woman that always sets up on the red crates at the end of the pier. You ask for your fortune and she asks a thousand questions, only to end up tellin' you you're under a curse. Always got a curse on ya come rain or shine.'

'A curse?' I grinned.

'Aye, you know like, may your pipe never smoke and your teapot be broke.' replied the ex-pirate with an amused look.

Chuckling, I continued down the laneway 'You need to get into the hexing profession Dryn, you'd do well at it.'

'I got plenty more.' declared the dock hand 'How about this? May you sit on your cat, and your thumb be quite fat. Or how about, may dung be your rose, and thorns grow on your nose.'

With a shake of my head, we continued on our way with Dryn reciting every curse he could make up. Perhaps we were just two nobodies in a stone city with no prospect of ever moving up the chain, but in all honesty I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be. Kirkwall had warmed to me and I finally realised there were many worse off situations to find oneself in. Life wasn't so bad.

Laughter echoing through the dusty laneways, the ex-pirate and I descended into the heart of Kirkwall, light hearted and without a care in the world, chuckling and cursing the entire way.

Late night greeted the party as they galloped through the gates of Skyhold, dismounting and rushing towards the main hall of Skyhold in a flurry of hastened steps. Leliana, Cullen and Michel de Chevin stormed into the war council all a fluster, followed a while later by a bewildered Seeker.

'What is going on?!' asked Cassandra sternly, casting her eyes furiously across the room 'The entire council disappears from Skyhold without a word, only to return at dark, bolting through the gates like a dragon was pressed hard on your heels. I feel like there is something you have not been telling me?'

'Josephine has betrayed us.' informed Cullen shortly 'She has fled with a maleficar named Jowan.'

'Nonsense.' replied Cassandra furiously 'What is really going on?'

'Cassandra it is true.' affirmed Leliana urgently 'We need to call everyone to the room. Vivienne, Solas, Iron Bull, Varric, Cole, Dorian. We need to inform them all as to what has happened. All will be explained, Cassandra.'

The Seeker shook her head 'Most of the members are away at the moment. Vivienne is in Orlais, Iron Bull is the Western Approach, Varric is in Kirkwall, Solas is in the Dales and I haven't seen Cole since that incident with the turnips a few days back.'

Pausing from studying the map before her, Leliana brought her head up suddenly. 'Why is Varric in Kirkwall?'

'Visiting Bartrand' replied the Seeker 'He goes to see him often.'

Leliana frowned, not liking what she was hearing. 'He just left Skyhold and didn't tell anyone?'

'He mentioned it to me.' shrugged Cassandra 'I suppose he just forgot to formally mention it. It's Varric, he never plays by the rules.'

'Who cares' dismissed Cullen impatiently, pushing some papers roughly off the table so he could afford a better view of the map 'We have more important things to think about rather than Varric up and leaving all of a sudd-'. The Commander stopped in his tracks, amber eyes suddenly darting to Leliana.

Leliana ceased what she was doing and turned to Cassandra. 'Did he say Bartrand?' she asked curiously 'Did he specifically say he was going to see Bartrand?'

'Yes.' Cassandra replied confidently 'He is concerned about his brother, that is all. What is going on with you all?'

'Bartrand isn't in Kirkwall.' informed Leliana flatly 'He was moved from the Chantry Sanatorium after the Chantry was blown up. He is in the Cumberland Chantry Sanatorium now.'

'Well, perhaps he meant to say Cumberland.' dismissed Cassandra, throwing a doubtful look to her friend 'Why would he lie about that? It was obviously a mistake?'

Leliana turned her eyes swiftly to Cullen who held hers keenly. 'Ophelia' they replied in unison.

'Across the Waking Sea from Orlais.' murmured Michel, running his finger across the route on the map 'Of course, why did we not think of that?'

Clenching his fist, the Commander began to pace. 'Five weeks we have been searching for her. Five weeks of trailing maps, countless agents searching, countless hours revising, and that bastard dwarf knew exactly where she was this entire time?! I'm going to kill him. I AM GOING TO KILL HIM!'

'We don't know that for certain?' defended Cassandra 'It could still be nothing?'

'We have to retrieve her immediately.' informed Leliana swiftly, convinced that it definitely was something. 'This has to be our pressing mission. Cassandra and I will stay here with Cullen and continue the search for Josephine and Jowan. Michel, you should go to Kirkwall.'

'I will go also.' added Cullen sternly.

Leliana frowned, her lips pursed impatiently as she looked up at Cullen. 'Do you really think that is wise? You were the reason she ran off the first time.'

'I want to make this right again, and she needs to hear that from me.' declared the Commander.

'Besides Cullen knows Kirkwall,' added Michel 'whereas I have never been to the city. And you know what they say about Orlesians and directions.'. He waved his hand cheerfully in the air, as if revelling in his hopelessness of geographics.

The Commander threw a nod to the Maister of Blades, one of deep appreciation.

'This is ridiculous, however if indeed you are all serious, and Josephine has indeed fled, I suppose Leliana and I can start with the search.' confirmed Cassandra 'Cullen, make sure you bring back that dwarf as well. I personally will have a word with him after this is all over.'

The Spymaster was displeased, but nodded in defeat. 'Fine. Cullen and Michel should rest until morning and set off immediately. Remember that we need Ophelia back here. We've wasted enough time. There are rifts to be sealed, and her mark is the only way. The only way. Bring her back, irrespective of either of your opinions on the matter. Bring her back to Skyhold lest I make you both regret returning here without her.'


	17. The Black Heart

Stumbling into the main room of The Hanged Man, my pounding ale headache made me stop by a nearby open window, eager to breathe in some fresh air. The sound of the faint toll of the ships bells arriving in the docks, the busy chatter of the Lowtown Bazaar and the squawking gulls fighting over the bin scraps in the alley beside the tavern greeted my ears. Another splendid day in Kirkwall well on its way. Already mid morning, I had the luxury of sleeping in these days and not spending the hours traipsing through Inquisition documents. The simple things in life were now becoming my favourite pastimes, and I somewhat revelled in it.

‘Pig oat mash.’ I called out wearily to one of the waitresses, before hearing a deep chuckle the fire in the corner of the room.

‘Don’t do it kid, _it’s not worth it._’ warned the dwarf.

Spinning around in my seat, I came face to face with Varric dressed in brown leather pants, red shirt brazenly unbuttoned at the chest revealing copious amounts of reddish brown hair, and a gold chain adorning his wide neck. 

‘Flaming salted swines in a pickle jar! Varric!’ I yelled, wrapping my arms around the rouge. 

‘Look at you kid!’ chuckled Varric, returning the hug with enthusiam ‘Cussing like a pirate and living at The Hanged Man like some big shot! Ah, you’re making me proud.’

Shaking my head in disbelief, I watched as the rogue took a seat at the table, a more content smile on his face I had never recalled. Varric was home again and he radiated a joy that was more than a little infectious.

‘Varric I can’t begin to tell you how thankful I am for setting me up here.’ I begun emotionally ‘Saving me from a fate of rat infestation would be an understatement. You saved my arse big time.’

‘Ah don’t mention it.’ chuckled Varric ‘I was just happy someone managed to track you down, well someone that wasn’t an old Tevinter Magister asshole. Can’t tell you how bad I feel about how everything turned out. Some ventures just don’t go well, eh?’. Noticing my sudden sombre demeanour he added ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Curly. I know how much you took a shining to him.’

‘Yeah me too.’ I muttered. Throwing the dwarf a shrug, I knew better than to wallow in that misery. 'Doesn't change the fact that he ordered for my arrest and did me a mercy of not executing me on the spot. Nice guy eh?'

Varric chuckled. 'Kid I'll tell it to you straight - you got screwed over big time! Forget the bastard and move on.'. Flashing a wink to the waitress as she passed by with the dwarf’s order, Varric grabbed a pitcher of ale off her and started pouring two cups. Raising his mug, he drank deep until finishing the very last drop, belching in approval. ‘That house ale, boy how I missed it.’ 

‘Does anyone know you’re here?’ I asked uncertainly ‘How did you get a pass to leave Skyhold?’

Varric’s face somewhat diminished in spirit as he took another sip ‘I just told them I was visiting Bartrand. Took a detour here and actually saw the bastard.’. The dwarf grew strangely quiet, studying the contents of his cup as if reading tea leaves.

‘I’m sorry Varric. It must be hard to see him like that?’

Downing the mug, Varric eagerly began to pour again ‘Never gets easier, trust me. Asshole screwed us over in the Deep Roads, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t him that was behind that. Bartrand’s always been a bastard, but that damn idol turned him into a monster. Still, I can’t help feeling guilty...maybe because it could have easily been me in his place had things turned out differently?’

‘I know it’s not the same, but in the circle I used to feel terrible for the tranquils. I couldn’t fathom the horror of taking away another’s mind and leaving them hollow on the inside to live out their days. Someone pointed out to me one day that while it was horrible what happened to them they were happier in their present state of mind than most of us, none the wiser, and always content.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ asked Varric cynically, taking another sip.

‘No.’ I replied sadly, knowing that I didn’t. ‘I guess what I'm saying is - it's just another way to look at it? Sorry I'm making you feel worse.’

'Only if you don't drink up kid.'. Enthusiastically pouring another drink, Varric added ‘Come on, let’s get drunk and forget about everything. Just for one day.’

Knocking his mug with my own, I added with a miserable laugh ‘Make it a lifetime and you're on.’

****

As the ever flowing amber ale of a day turned into a burning spirited night, it seemed as if every second Kirkwaller in the city had made the pilgrimage to The Hanged Man to have a drink with Varric Tethras. Drams were poured, ale was spilled, and the chuckles, shouts, shrieks and chatter grew louder and louder, drowned in a forest of merry flutes, dulcimers and bladder pipes. Smoked haddocks laden the tables amongst black puddings, neeps and tatties, festy cocks, and bannocks. It was the tucker of Kirkwall and the hungry patrons were digging in with enthusiasm at the end of a working week and a fresh pay under their belts.

Sitting at my usual table by the stairs I took in the festivities of the room with a sense of gratitude. Everyone was so happy so I wondered why such happiness left me with a twinge of sadness, heavy in my gut?

‘He drank ale from a bloody boot!’ cackled Keets, sidling up to my table ‘Seventy copper ale mind you, not even the ninety copper stuff. Your friend Varric is tougher than the kipper on the menu. Where’s yer drink?’

‘I can’t drink from morning to night, something about vomit, hangovers and waking up in a puddle of rat piss.’ I grimaced, still recovering from the morning of drinking with Varric.

Dryn laughed as he joined us at the table. ‘You see that’s a weak attitude right there. You got no balls!’

‘Thank goodness.’ I retorted, producing a chuckle from the pair.

A heavy dwarven laugh sounded across the room, and we all turned to see Varric deep in conversation with a large group by the fire, all engrossed with the words spilling from the rogues mouth. Most likely it was all utter bullshit.

Another wave of laughter sounded across the tavern, and Keets and Dryn toasted in merriment. Questioning my own sanity, I was starting to suspect I was incapable of merry making and would live out the rest of my years in woeful lament.

‘Ophelia.’

Turning to Keets and Dryn, they were now deeply absorbed in a game of arm wrestling. I frowned, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had come over me. Was I hearing voices now?

‘Ophelia.’ called out a voice again, a distance behind me and my heart suddenly dropped.

‘Blimey you just went white as a ghost.’ chuckled Dryn, pointing his pitcher of ale at me. ‘You’re gonna spew aren’t you, you damn cheap drunk!’

Fearfully I turned my head towards the door, eyes darting past Corff pouring ale, across a group of patrons playing darts, to where a Commander stood. The room had grown quieter as the new patron sternly entered the tavern. Like a fish out of water, the heavy metal armour Cullen shone like a bright blade cutting through the murky darkness of the tavern. Even Varric had stopped his storytelling, and was now looking more than a little worried at The Hanged Man’s newest patron.

Turning to see what I was staring at, Dryn added ‘Eh Sparrow, you know that one?’

Cullen stood firm in his position, his will as strong as the metal cuirass on his chest. His eyes. Those amber eyes fell into mine and demanded my attention as they pulled me in, drowning me desperately, hopelessly, unforgivingly...until suddenly I ripped my eyes away.

‘He’s no one.’ I answered hastily, grabbing Dryn’s mug roughly off him and taking several rather large gulps.

‘Uh, why is the big one coming this way then?’ added Dryn uncertainly.

I flinched as I felt a metal gauntlet touch my shoulder firmly, the strong fingers sending shivers down my skin. Those fingers, so intimately acquainted against my bare flesh, now begging to be reunited once more. However everything had changed and now all I felt was a coldness I wished would leave my shoulder.

‘Ophelia, it's me.’ informed Cullen, before coming round the table to stand before me.

The Commander looked tired, as if sleep had not been on his agenda for many a week. Dishevelled hair, his jaw unshaven and his forehead heavy with worry, Cullen rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as looked down at me.

‘Are you sure you don’t know him?’ mused Dryn, leaning back in his chair and taking a big swill of his ale, enjoying the entertainment now unfolding. 'He thinks your name is Ophelia, Sparrow.'

I cast a deathly cold look up at the ex-templar standing before us. I was unwilling to parley on this night of nights. ‘Dryn do you remember that templar I was talking about?’ I asked sharply, turning my attention to the pirate.

The dock hand began to laugh. ‘What? Right royal prick?’

‘The very one.’ 

Dryn eyed the Commander with a grin. 'So what? You came to collect your prisoner or something?'

Jaw clenched, the Commander stood unwavering. ‘Can we go somewhere more private to talk.’ muttered Cullen, running his eyes over Dryn for a moment before turning back to me.

I confess I don’t know what came over me in that moment. It was as if all the fear and trauma since fleeing erupted and came back to haunt me, filling me with a twisted, maddening laugh that filled the tavern, and demanded the tavern’s silence in it’s wake. Could one call it a laugh, or the release of a demon of my own back into the world. It was Cullen’s demon, one that had churned and twisted the knife in my gut time and time again. Of all the misery and doom, it escaped my lips in guffaws. When I finally finished my hysterics, with several patrons giving me a look of one that has truly gone mad, I calmly looked back to the Commander who in turn was looking somewhat uncertainly at me.

‘Fuck off Cullen.’ I hissed, turning back to nab Dryn’s drink.

Dryn grinned in amusement as Cullen glared angrily at me, suddenly grabbing my arm roughly.

‘Whoa, whoa now templar man.’ warned Dryn a little more seriously ‘She told you to flog off fair an’ square.’

'Best you listen to him matey.' added Keets. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, following cue with his friend. It was a friendly warning, but a warning nevertheless. 

‘Trevelyan, enough of these damnable games.’ frowned Cullen 'I need to speak with you.'

‘Oh I’m Trevelyan now?’ I remarked in amusement ‘I was Ophelia a moment ago. Will I be Inquisitor next? Or shall we just skip to blood mage? Maleficar? She who should by all rights be dead?’. I spat out the words like poison, hoping Cullen would be tainted by them as much as I. His face was furious, yet I could see the hurt in his eyes.

Dryn raised a doubtful eyebrow, unsure whether I was being serious or not, while Keets kept on drinking, oblivious in his drunken stupor.

Kicking the table in frustration Cullen stormed off to the bar, furious as the roaring fire that Varric was sitting by nervously. Shaking my head, I turned my eyes away from the ex-templar to the door, seeing an ex-chevalier standing quietly by the entrance, watching the unfortunate scene play out.

‘_Michel_...’ I murmured, catching my breath as I looked upon the Orlesian. Meeting my eyes, the ex-chevalier beamed a broad smile, his merry face and deep blue eyes filling me with joy at the sight of him breathing and full of life.

Lunging across the room, knocking over a mug of ale and several patrons along the way, I threw my arms around the ex-chevalier’s neck, and he in turn drew me in around my waist, holding me tight as we curled into each other’s bodies, nuzzling into each other’s necks. Before I knew it I was sobbing into his hug, weeping into his blonde hair and warm neck, refusing to let go as I let all my emotion from that awful day spill out, drowning in relief and joy that I could see Michel was still alive.

‘I thought you were going to die.’ I sobbed ‘I couldn’t let that happen. I just couldn’t let Imshael do it to you.’

Michel drew me in tighter against his armoured body, his grasp so firm I feared I would be crushed as he bound himself to me.

‘Thank you for my life.’ he whispered, his voice shaky ‘Thank you.’

I could feel warm beads on my neck as the ex-chevalier wept with me. It was relief and sadness, all that pain being finally acknowledged. Faced with the chance of never seeing each other again, and now to be in each others arms. His life was precious, to him and to me, and we revelled in it at that moment. Never had there been an embrace that lasted as long, and still we refused to part from each other as we stood there, a growing spectacle for the drunken lurid eyes of the tavern.

‘You’re alive and safe.’ observed Michel with a wide smile, pulling back to wipe my eyes with his thumb. ‘And you were living in Varric’s old home all along?’

‘Not the whole time no.’ I frowned, my eye catching the seething Commander silently watching us from across the room.

Turning his head, the ex-chevalier noticed where I was looking. ‘There is a lot that has happened that you do not know. You need to talk to Cullen, for all our sakes. You need to hear the truth.’

‘He wanted me dead for casting blood magic.’ I replied sharply ‘The Cullen I knew died along with that outburst.’. Standing back, I pulled away from our embrace. ‘I’m sorry Michel, I don’t need to hear the truth. I already know it. I'm not going to reunite with him.’

Feeling the watchful eyes of Cullen, Michel, Varric, Dryn, Keets, Corff and the rest of the patrons hard upon me, my heart started racing. Pounding in my chest until I couldn’t breath in the stale, ale-stenched air a moment longer. Knowing I needed to get away from them all, I headed for the entrance of the tavern and descended out into the streets.

Passing the docks, I knew where I needed to go and it loomed before me ominously, a secluded fortress ever watchful. 

_The Gallows._

Home to the Templar Order and the Circle of Magic. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest as I made my way to the fortress in the glumness, ascending into the riddle of twilight. I needed to make sense of all that had happened. I needed to see why this place had turned Cullen into what he had become. For weeks I had avoided the place but it was time that I faced the haunted ruins of my brethren.

Upon reaching the dark stone courtyard it fell far from the terrifying stories I had heard but echoed of sadness. It was abandoned and shut off to the city, overrun with red lyrium deposits and a mark of shame to it’s name. Even the stones of the Gallows seemed to radiate a grief of their own, burdened by its terrible past. The years of horrors were only to be replaced by more horrors in a never ending cycle of suffering. A Tevinter prison where over a million slaves stumbled into its stone chasm, then transformed into a prison for mages, and now overrun with red lyrium. It was a shrine of nightmares, and I knew this terrible place had altered my love’s mind, and now I was left to stand here in its wake, sad and alone.

‘You can’t imagine what it was like fighting Meredith in this courtyard.’ observed Cullen behind me ‘Even now, I struggle to convince myself that it was real and not just some terrible nightmare.’

Turning, I was faced once again with the Commander. His armour emitted a soft shine under the clear twilight sky, a magnificent warrior standing on a battlefield he had once fought in, victorious yet the echo of that terrible day still filled his mind. Some battles perhaps were never won. Cullen walked up beside me, taking in the familiarity of his surroundings with a certain degree of displeasure. Shoulder to shoulder, we cast our eyes across the abandoned ruin before us, silent and watchful.

‘I would stand here as a templar, watching those contorted statues of the slaves watch over me. I'd think to myself, what an ominous, gloomy place it was that I had ended up. They used to bring the slaves straight off the boats to this courtyard. I read somewhere that it was a strategic move by the Magisters to instil terror into the very hearts of the slaves, as they looked upon those tortured statues, all twisted and contorted in pain and misery. Forever bound to this place, cast in metal, agonised and bound for eternity. Of course the templars were not like the Tevinters of old, we were not slavers. That is what we told ourselves as we imprisoned mages here, bound to a place that they would never be set free from, tightening the grip on their leashes until they were suffocating.’

Cullen went silent once more, a reverence on his face that made him appear almost a divine creature, a spectacular iron immortal cast among mere beings who would never be capable of fathoming what he knew.

‘When Knight-Commander Meredith became vigilant in her pursuit of blood magic, I too saw it as my duty in this place.’ continued Cullen ‘This horrible stone prison in Kirkwall. It was nothing like the Ferelden Circle, with its green hills and fertile soil beneath my feet, the air so fresh and sweet that sometimes you'd look out the Kinloch Hold and forget you were in a Circle tower entirely. But here? No. A stone prison was all this place could ever be. We were told this was where mages truly deserved to be. It had to be this way.’

Cullen shook his head ‘I realise now that I was wrong.’. Looking over to me, he added ‘It doesn't excuse my actions but you have to let me explain. Please.’

Knowing I didn’t want to hear what he had to say, nor did he deserve an opportunity to do, I still remained by his side. There was no reason why I should have stayed and listened, but I decided to. ‘Fine, say what you need to say.’ I replied darkly. 

Running his hand across his chin, his unshaven sandy stubble more rugged since our last encounter, Cullen eased himself against a stone ledge. The cold metal of his armour scraped against the stone, as he achingly rubbed his neck from side to side. ‘What happened on the road to Halamshiral was a set up. Josephine Montilyet made a deal with a maleficar named Jowan to possess Michel. She intended the demon to convince you to cast blood magic. It was all a trap.’

Utterly gob smacked, I turned to Cullen. ‘What did you just say? Josephine? Our ambassador? What are you talking about? Why would she do that?’

‘I know it sounds utterly ludicrous’ scoffed Cullen, shaking his head ‘I’m having a hard time believing it myself, even now. But I assure you it is true. To put it plainly, Josephine has had some infatuation over me. I had no idea. However she knew that if I saw you cast blood magic then I would reject you. She employed a blood mage to help her with the whole affair.’

‘And she confessed?’ I asked, still in shock ‘She told you this herself?’

Cullen nodded. ‘Yes, in the end. Although she has fled with that particular maleficar in question.’ 

Staring into the night, I was so surprised I became at a loss for words. Could everything that had happened really have been as a result of some love-struck Ambassador trying to tear Cullen and I apart?

‘Ophelia?’ Cullen whispered softly ‘Are you alright?’. Reaching over, he gently placed his hand on my arm, running his thumb affectionately across my skin. 'I am so sorry my love. For everything.'

‘Why would she do something so callous?’ I murmured ‘She could have killed us all. It’s incomprehensible?’

‘And utterly disgusting.’ added Cullen ‘She has fled but we will find her and she will atone. Leliana and Cassandra are trying to locate her as we speak.’

‘Madness. Utter madness...’

The Commander nodded, running his hands through his hair in hesitation before turning to me. Grabbing my hands in his large palms, Cullen held them tight, the warmth of his skin penetrating mine ‘Ophelia I am so sorry. I will say it again and again. I am so sorry for how I acted when I found out you had cast blood magic. Forgive me.’

Tears in my eyes, I turned my gaze back on the abandoned ruins before us, pulling my hands from his. ‘I can’t forgive you. You sent me to my death, whether I chose to run or stayed that day, you would have tried to...'. Turning to him sadly, I shook my head. 'In all honesty I don't know what you would have tried to do, and that makes it even worse. I can’t forgive that.’

‘I was angry.’ explained Cullen softly ‘It doesn’t mean I would have done any of those things. I would not have hurt you.’

‘You already did .’ I replied tragically ‘Perhaps your opinion softened on hearing Josephine’s part in all this, but in all honesty it changes nothing. And I have had to live with the knowledge that my one true love would have advocated my death. Or imprisonment? Trials? How could you propose to do those things to someone you claimed you loved? No matter what you say now, or do now, that is the only thing that resonates in my mind over and over again.’

‘I do love you.’ declared Cullen 'Anger makes us say and do foolish things that we regret that. That is all it was, I swear.'

Shaking my head, I didn't want to believe it. ‘Did it cross your mind that I could have died trying to escape you that day? I was lost in those damn marshes, who knows what was lurking out there and me in such a weakened state. I didn’t have the energy to cast another spell, all it would have taken was one bandit or one wolf and I would not be here now. Even here in Kirkwall I could have slipped into the wrong ally, come across the wrong person who wanted me dead, or someone who realised who I was and tried to ship me off to the red templars. I slept in a fucking abandoned warehouse, scared out of my wits. You did this to me and I cannot forgive you.’

Hunching his shoulders, Cullen rested his elbows on his knees, his hands cupping his head. Head bowed down, the ex-templar looked completely overwhelmed by my accusation. After a few minutes of silence, he raised his eyes to mine sadly. ‘You cast blood magic.’ he replied softly, although I could tell he was trying to conceal his passion ‘I was going to react badly. I couldn’t accept you doing such a thing. Not after everything that I have experienced.’

‘It was an act of love that I cast that spell. I wanted to keep you and Michel alive. You foolish bastard, you still can’t see I did it out of love?'

Eyes narrowed and unable to contain his feelings, the Commander's regret began to transform into creeping jealousy. ‘Love for whom?!’ asked Cullen darkly ‘The way I saw you embrace Michel before in the tavern I'm beginning to wonder who exactly you were trying to save on the Imperial Highway.’

Gobsmacked, I threw the man a dirty look. ‘Unbelievable. After everything you have done you now start accusing me of this nonsense again.’. I shook my head in disbelief as the Commander glowered at me. ‘Perhaps it should have been for Michel? The jokes on me, isn’t it? Look at how my faith and love for you has rewarded me? I did it for you but I wish it were for him. I wish it were for anyone else, anyone but you.’

‘You're not listening.’ replied Cullen sharply as he grabbed my shoulders passionately ‘Don't you see? You should have never done it for me!’

‘Well I did!’ I replied furiously, feeling the searing pain from his fingers press tight in my shoulders ‘For your life I cast blood magic. And I would have done it again, and again, and again.’

‘I would have done anything to keep you safe and untarnished by that foulness!’ Cullen roared ‘Even if it meant my death.’

‘You stubborn bastard.’ I sobbed, pulling away from his grasp and turning to conceal the stream of tears in my eyes. ‘You would rather be dead than for it to be the way it is? You and I now alive and safe? Do you hear yourself? Your hate is so strong it blinds you. I am no blood mage and I am not tainted. Yet you believe it. So that in turn will be my ruin. The red bird that pushes me off that waterfall. So be it Cullen.’. Turning back to him, my face was plagued by shadows ‘You have bestowed upon me disappointment and rejection, but I shall not accept it. You will not take any more of me, to shape and mould in pain and despair. I shall be rid of you and your hate, and you will be gone from my life once and for all. You said you would never hurt me, and here I am drowning in pain. Curse you for what you have left me to become. Curse you!’

The ex-templar grew deathly quiet, running his eyes across the Gallows. Memories lurking amidst the shadows that etched away at his heart. ‘You're right, I have not changed since then.’ he confessed ‘I know that now. My convictions are stronger than my common sense, and ironically you lead me to the very place I was at my worst. I warned you of what would happen if you pursued me, and now I have caused pain to you. Maker damn me for that hurt. A hurt that I promised never to bestow, and yet hurt you I did. I cannot forgive myself so how would I ever expect you to?’

The Commander stood up from the ledge, his face haunted. ‘I shall leave you now, for I know it is for the best.’. His amber eyes pierced in my green, almost resentfully. ‘My soul is already damned, you would best be away from it once and for all. I warned you many times, but I shall not take delight in crowing over my victories now. I wanted you to leave all this, leave the Inquisition behind, and I still do. You deserve to be happy, to live a life away from death and suffering. To start a new life you deserved to be living all along.’

Taking one last look around the courtyard, the ex-templar finally turned to face me ‘I shall return to Skyhold immediately, but I part with this...’. Cullen paused, his thumb brushing against my lips as if recalling a tender moment between us. ‘Know this Ophelia,’ he murmured ‘there was once a man who loved you so much that he knew he had to let you go…’

Leaning down towards me, the ex-templar placed his warm lips on my cheek, the stubble scratching me lightly as he lingered but a moment, flesh on flesh, his moreish scent overwhelming me before he drew away. His step turned fast as he paced away, boots rasping on the cold stone, never looking back.

Cullen had left me in the Gallows, not as an ex-templar or a Commander. He left me as a man with a broken heart, torn by the pain he felt and the pain he had brought upon someone he loved. The revelation of his true self, time and time again, had worn down the black heart he professed to hold. His beliefs were sewn into that black heart and they ruled over the ex-templar stronger than the chasm that entombed them. That black heart that I kept dearly. That I loved dearly. For love him I did, more than I had loved another person, but my hate boiled within me from the memory of his betrayal, and tainted the affection I held dear. I couldn’t bare to be apart of it any longer.

A final reminder of why he cursed this devilish life he was miserably apart of, Cullen walked away. In that moment it felt like the last small part of me that was still alive had now perished. If his heart was black, mine was red and desperately bleeding.


	18. For Duty Or For Pleasure?

_Freedom. Does it truly exist? We strive for it, chase after it like dandelion florets in the wind, and yet who of us grasps one of those feathery tufts in the palm of our hand, only to keep hold of it? To live in a world without responsibility or regard? To owe nothing to yourself, for there is nothing to be owed. To care for no other for there is nothing to be concerned about, in that rather disenchanted state. Surely if this was freedom then this was no life at all? A life of meaninglessness, soaring the heights of complete and unconditional liberty. For from the moment we were born we formed attachments to this existence, and the longer we live the more chain us. Take hold of us. Ground us. Perhaps some held us down in restraint, but not all the chains were abominable. Some ensured we stay whole and did not fall apart, scattered to the wind in the name of freedom._

_We are not free and perhaps none of us ever would be, but the alternative somehow seemed so much worse.._

I recall an evening once with Cullen, back in Skyhold before I had fled, when he had told me about the legend of the first true King of Ferelden. Two men, Richard of Southron and Daniel of Bannorn, loosely joined in blood and each with a claim. They were apart of two families that had long fought over the throne for many years. Daniel of Bannorn had recently claimed the throne by force, and in his determination to destroy all other ties to the crown began to rewrite the royal lineage of Ferelden, and in essence remove any hold Richard of Southron may have had over it.

As a result Richard sailed across the Amaranthine Ocean with an army equal to King Daniel’s, determined to pledge his claim once and for all. As Richard landed on the shores of Ferelden, he fell to his knees, sinking into the sand as he cried out to the skies; Judge me, oh Maker, and favour my cause. Richard knew he came to those shores to meet his destiny as equal to his demise. However it was his faith that forced his hand as he rode out onto that battlefield. Richard of Southron and Daniel of Bannorn met on the battlefield that fateful day, and it was there that King Daniel of Bannorn turned his sword to his opponent and proclaimed; Today I fight like a king, or I die like one.

One man had put his faith in the Maker while the other had put his faith in himself. The only man that rode out of that field alive that day was King Daniel of Bannorn. The one who had put faith in himself.

Later on I realised what Cullen had been trying to explain to me. Our actions were the only true cause we could put our faith in, not the vain hope of a higher purpose that would somehow miraculously intervene. As a man of the Chantry I was somewhat surprised by Cullen’s convictions, but as I began to see how the realm around us unravelled in bloodshed and chaos, I started to understand. Cullen knew our only hope relied on our own actions, and not the disillusioned convictions of faith. 

We had a weapon in our hands and we had to use it.

****

‘I don’t do refunds Varric.’ frowned Corff. Wiping his grubby hands thickly on his leather apron, he pointed an accusing finger at the rogue. ‘Only credit, you know that.’

‘Corff, you’re killing me!’ exasperated Varric ‘Drinking five months worth of rent on ale in the Hanged Man will be the death of me.’

‘Policies Varric, it’s out of my hands.’ shrugged Corff.

‘What policies? You own the tavern!?’ chortled the dwarf, throwing a bewildered look to the inn keep who merely shrugged in response. ‘Okay then, you're forcing my hand here. My review of The Hanged Man is in my upcoming book Taverns of Thedas. Don’t blame me when you read it.’

With a scoff, Corff turned to pour more ale. ‘Drink Varric? Your tab is pretty high at the moment.’

With a wave of annoyance, Varric turned away to return to the fire where I was waiting.

‘Any luck?’ I asked doubtfully.

‘Stubborn as an ox that one.’ scorned Varric ‘Let’s just say I’ll be shouting rounds here until I’m old and grey.’. The dwarf shrugged ‘There are worse things I suppose.’

‘I’m sorry, I’ll pay you back one day.’ I replied guiltily.

‘Hahahah! Tell me, how much are they paying the Inquisitor at Skyhold these days?’ asked an amused Varric ‘I recall being offered a loose form of a stipend when I joined the Inquisition, although it seems to only involve bland food, cold lodgings and complaints from Solas.’

Frowning for a moment, and feeling rather foolish for my delayed revelations, it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t received anything amounting to proper wages since joining the inquisition.

‘Back pay.’ I nodded with a curl of my lip ‘They owe me at least a few coppers, surely?’

Shaking his head, the rogue grabbed his worn fennec skin satchel off the floor of the tavern. ‘Are you sure about this?’

Frowning, I looked down at my glove concealed hands. ‘I can try to pretend the mark doesn’t exist. Turn my eye from the rifts, or the Red Templars, or even Corypheus himself. Maker knows that sounds fine to me. I fear however it comes across a tad bit selfish on my behalf. Anyway I can’t shake that guilty feeling of forsaking the people of the realm and letting everything fall into the clutches of an evil bastard. Call me crazy?’

The rogue chuckled ‘Living in the Hanged Man or risking your life saving the realm from an evil bastard. Tough choice.’

‘Isn’t it? Of course my old position as Inquisitor doesn’t seem so bad now I know I’m not destined to a life behind iron bars.’

‘The way I see it, you probably would have ended up that way had you stayed in Kirkwall.’ chuckled Varric ‘Come on, Skyhold awaits.’

Walking over to the bar I presented a well handled letter to Corff, a small note that I had been fumbling over in my hands all morning. ‘Give this to Dryn next time you see him, will you?’

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow ‘Not saying goodbye in person?’

Miserably I turned to the door. ‘I’m not good at goodbyes Corff, never was.’ 

Throwing a nod to Corff, Varric held open the door of the tavern. ‘Come on Sparrow, the cold draughty keep atop the mountain of frost awaits us both. Although between you and me, I don’t think that’ll be the coldest reception awaiting us somehow.’

****

The journey from Kirkwall to Skyhold went exceptional fast, as is the usual way when someone fears the impending doom lurking and it comes hurtling towards them in leaps and bounds. Seeing the keep soar high in the distance I tried to convince myself that I had made the right decision in coming back, and yet the magnificent structure struck fear into my heart. Would this be my final resting place? Would I ever get to taste the freedom I had enjoyed in Kirkwall? I was no soothsayer but the answer whispered tauntingly in my ear and sent shivers across my skin as I clutched the reins tight and trotted forward.

Riding through the giant bridge and into Skyhold that mid-afternoon, it appeared our return had brought with it a surge of relief and reassurance throughout the stronghold. People stared and smiled, and even the guards looked more than a little relieved to see the Inquisitor finally back from her speculated mystery trip somewhere out in Thedas. The rumours of my demise had finally been disproved. The Inquisitor was alive and returned to Skyhold.

With cheers, waves and applause, the men and women in the courtyard greeted us, and even the ever so serious Master Dennet looked extremely jovial to see me at the stables once more, slapping the rump of my horse with great enthusiasm and causing the creature to cast an uneasy eye at the horse master.

‘Come on.’ muttered Varric wearily, seemingly disenchanted by the prospect now facing him ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Turning towards the main hall, like two disobedient children knowing they would have to face the chastisement of their wrongdoings, we made our way to the war room with heavy shoulders and dragging feet. The hall was filled with loud murmurings and every pair of eyes fell upon us as we meekly smiled our way through the crowd.

Drawing our direction towards the left corridor immediately before the Skyhold throne, I threw a disconcerted look towards Josephine’s old study, still piled high with papers and books. She had fled, but it felt like her presence still lingered in the room, and I felt a cold shiver cross me as I passed by and up towards the heavy wooden doors of the war council. Even now, I couldn’t fathom how someone could deceive so many right under our very noses. If Josephine was capable of it, how many more like her were here among us?

Throwing me a nod, Varric pushed the war room doors open and we entered precariously, only to be greeted by a red haired bard, arms crossed and staring intently at the pair of us from the other side of the table.

‘Inquisitor,’ remarked Leliana with a small smile ‘it is good to see you again.’. Frowning, she set her green eyes sharply onto Varric, who was looking sheepish as ever ‘Varric, back from visiting your brother I see?’. Shaking her head, Leliana waved a hand to dismiss the comment ‘Forgive my pertness. Truly, I am glad to see you have brought back the Inquisitor safe and alive.’. The spymaster turned back to me with a frown ‘Cullen told me you had decided to stay in Kirkwall and that fact has troubled me greatly. Tell me he was wrong?’

‘He was.’ I replied a little too aggressively ‘What about what happened on the Imperial Highway? Is the Inquisition going to follow up on my actions on that day?’

Leliana threw a curious look towards me ‘Why ever would we? Under the circumstances you made a decision that saved the entire entourage. Sometimes we have to make terrible decisions, where neither option is preferred, but one is required. The Inquisition stands by your actions as the Inquisitor.’

Varric nudged me in reassurance as I breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘I told you.’ he whispered.

‘You however.’ continued Leliana, turning her narrowed eyes on Varric in displeasure ‘You attempted to conceal information from the Inquisition.’

‘He helped me, Leliana.’ I implored ‘Who knows what would have happened to me if he hadn’t helped me hide out in Kirkwall. You should be thanking him.’

The dwarf shrugged ‘I was trying to protect her, Nightingale. No one else seemed to be.’

‘Perhaps you are right,’ frowned Leliana ‘but there will be repercussions. Cassandra will deal with you, she has assured me of that much.’

‘Great.’ muttered Varric darkly.

Footsteps sounded behind us, and the heavy doors of the war council once again creaked open. We turned to see Cassandra and Cullen making their way into the room. The Seeker threw a look of disapproval down at Varric as she settled at her usual place by the window, whilst Cullen cast a similar look towards me before making his way to the war table. Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t wait to be rid of the suffocating chamber of reproach.

‘The Inquisitor has returned.’ announced Leliana to the other members, a pleased look on her face ‘Thank the Maker for guiding her back to us. We have much to do to make up for lost time, but nothing that can’t be settled soon enough.’

Cassandra nodded to me with a pleased smile ‘It is good to see you again Ophelia, and to see that you are well.’. Glaring at the dwarf, she added in a lower and accusatory voice ‘Varric.’.

The Commander remained deathly quiet, paging through the papers on the table. He was intentionally distracted from paying attention to anything or anyone in the room, especially myself.

‘We’ll need to arrange another ambassador for the council.’ informed the Commander sternly ‘There is more correspondence here than any of us can contend with at present. Leliana, do you have any one in mind?’

‘There are a few people I am considering, yes.’ she replied ‘I need more time to make arrangements of our offers.’

‘I suppose I need to leave immediately to seal rifts.’ I added.

Leliana nodded ‘There are a few close by that need urgent attention, they should only take a quarter of a day to reach. As soon as you are ready, you should head out.’

‘Of course.’ I replied ‘If that is all for now?’

Leliana smiled ‘For now, yes. On behalf of the council, we welcome you back Inquisitor. And thank you for deciding to stay with us.’

Casting my eyes to Cullen, he still refused to look at me, although I could tell he was furious from the clenched jaw and heavy forehead frowning down at the documents. Pursing my lips, I turned and walked out of the room.

In all honesty I wasn’t expecting any better reception from the Commander, but his behaviour left me feeling empty and disappointed all the same. That was the moment, the very moment, that I knew I had truly come home.

****

The plight of the Inquisition had recommenced in full force. Sealing rifts, sourcing iron, clearing out beasts from the forests, and locating logging stands and quarry sites for the cause seemed curiously more palatable than I had previously recalled. My companions had ample amounts of gossip to entertain themselves during our missions, talking endlessly about Josephine and the mysterious maleficar Jowan who had whisked her away. Whilst Vivienne and Sera took delight in the scandal, I noticed Blackwall was somewhat more quiet on the subject, a hint of woebegone at the ambassador’s disgraceful departure. Considering my feelings towards the woman, I didn’t want to pursue his silence on the matter, although I suspected its meaning. Like a spiralling staircase of melancholy, it served as a reminder of the powerful hold that one person could have over another.

Every evening when I retired to the keep, I was keenly aware of Cullen’s avoidance of me. His voice resonated loud across the yard during training sessions, his towering presence crossing my path in the main hall, or through the cloisters, always courteous to me yet nothing more. Civilities had never felt more malicious, and I ended up wishing he would yell or berate me rather than continue on such false pretences.

Our anger was mutual so it seemed only natural that we weren’t on the best of terms. Instead of wallowing in it however, as I usually would have succumbed to, I decided to start afresh. Perhaps a part of me missed The Hanged Man, or perhaps I knew I needed to try to distract myself for my own sanity. As as result, at the end of the second week of my return I ended up spilling into the courtyard at twilight with the rest of the light hearted folk of Skyhold, eager to spend their night making merry at The Herald’s Rest.

The last hint of summer lingered in the warm breeze of night as I stepped into the brightly lit tavern, where I was greeted by the haunting song of a lute and the voice of the bard Maryden. Captivating her audience, the patrons were mesmerised by her song, some even holding a tear in their eye that they hastily tried to drink away their emotion in large gulps of mead.

Like a mouse in a room full of cats, I tried to make myself unnoticed and crept towards the bar as close to the wall as possible. Leaning against the oak wood grain, I looked around as I waited to be served, some small part of me wishing Dryn would sidle up and begin chatting away about his conspiracies about the hidden treasures buried in the Seheron Isles. Instead my eye caught a familiar face happily laughing and talking intimately to a woman in the close confinements of the corner of the window. An ex-chevalier’s lips lingered softly against her ear, whispering hidden delights with an alluring smile of white teeth, that produced smiles of delight from the lady in question.

‘Inquisitor!’ greeted Cabot the innkeeper ‘It’s good to see ye after so long! They’ve been workin’ you too ‘ard, eh?’

‘Don’t they always?’ I shrugged, turning my attention away from the Orlesian ‘How've you been Cabot? How's Skyhold been holding up?’

‘Better now yer back.’ replied Cabot sagely ‘It’s been a ruckus round ‘ere of late, thought something untoward mighta ‘appened to ye the way everyone was acting. Aye, but here ye are, here ye are! All’s well that ends well, eh?’

‘Wise words Cabot.’ I chuckled ‘Just a house wine thanks.’

‘Righto.’ nodded Cabot, pouring the cheapest ferment in Thedas from a dull green bottle ‘On the house.’

Nodding in appreciation, I turned awkwardly to find a place to sit. A stranger in The Hanged Man, I had felt more comfortable in a matter of moments compared to this place packed full of familiar faces. On one side of the room sat the Iron Bull and his mercenaries, splayed out and drinking across several of the tables, whilst Sera was playing cards with Blackwall and a few of Cullen’s recruits near the stairs. Pausing, I flashed my eyes back to Michel de Chevin, who was still keenly wooing his companion, now stroking her cheek as he gazed deeply into her eyes. His eyes raised for a moment, and suddenly caught mine, and the ex-chevalier paused for a moment as he held my gaze, before returning to his conversation.

Cheeks growing warmer than the roaring fires in the tavern I grabbed my glass and headed for the door, departing into the night once more. Determined to enjoy my somewhat forced solitude, I headed to the grassy area at the side of the tavern where Cassandra enjoyed training during the day. At night it was a dark and shadowy respite that beckoned me to come revel in, and I wearily sat on the cool ground, back against the cobbled stone wall, and sipped the burning red liquid in blissful silence.

A lone wolf in the shadowy depths of my imagination, I took comfort in the still of night. Sip, after sip I relaxed a little more, until I somewhat miserably ran out of wine and my reality started seeping back into my head. Bitterly I refused to enter the tavern again, unwilling to be subjected to any further displays of affection from the Maister of Blades.

As if my thoughts had manifested into physical form, through the side door my attention was drawn to a man exiting the tavern, looking around the courtyard in search of someone before turning to the corner where I sat. A smile of recognition on his Orlesian face, Michel set out towards me upon spotting me by the wall. For once, Michel wasn’t dressed in his armour and simply sported a dark brown leather jerkin over a long white sleeved shirt, with black pants and calf high black boots. The light of his blonde hair seemingly glowed in the moonlight and his soft white skin appeared porcelain white.

‘I thought I saw you escape.’ he obsereved in pleasant accusation, striding up to me as he cast his eyes curiously around the secluded area ‘Why are you sitting out here all alone in the dark?’

I shrugged in silence, somewhat embarrassed at confessing I felt I hadn’t a friend in the world. Attuned to my misery Michel could tell I was upset, and he crouched down to me, reaching down his hand with a gentle smile. ‘Come with me.’ he beckoned softly with an encouraging beam.

Resisting his pull, Michel chuckled and tugged at my hand harder until I reluctantly let him yank me up off the grass. Hand in hand he gently led me towards the tavern, and then past it, further on into the courtyard.

‘Michel.’ I protested, looking back to the tavern with a frown ‘Look I realise that you have company back in there. Go back to your lady friend and enjoy the night. I'm fine, honestly.’

The Orlesian pulled my arm tighter and interlocked it through his, like a gentleman escorting a lady through the cobblestoned laneways of Val Royeaux on a midsummer’s night. As he continued to walk close besides me, he threw me a smile. ‘And yet funnily enough, I am exactly where I want to be at this very moment.’ he replied mischievously, playfully nudging me with his hip as he led me towards the direction of the Skyhold gardens.

After several turns in the twisting maze of leafy foliage, he found a spot of grass secluded between a large birch and maple tree and collapsed onto the grass, beckoning me to do the same.

‘Whenever I feel sad, I come to nature and she always cheers me up.’ he informed pleasantly ‘I suspect you need that tonight?’

Sitting on the grass, I knew the man was right. 'It's hard to return here after being in Kirkwall.'

Michel nodded. 'I feel that way about Orlais sometimes.'

The Orlesian began pulling off his black boots, revealing his large feet that he planted against the soft grass. Breathing out in contentment he rested his back against the stone bench behind him. Finally he opened his eyes and grinned at me.

‘I love the feel of the grass beneath my toes,’ he confessed ‘like I’m grounded as the birch and maple around me, at one with the soil, growing strong like the plants and trees.’. He took a deep breath in, the air filling his lungs ‘I relish the evening breeze in summer, that sugary scent at dusk, like boiled Orlesian sweets. It lingers in the air and makes me want to inhale it until I am intoxicated and dizzy with delirium.’. He breathed in deeply and smiled, before turning to me cheerfully.

Looking at the ex-chevalier, I caught myself smiling fondly at him. His charmful insight lifted the weight off my shoulders, if only for a while. My attachment to the Orlesian seemed to flourish as much as his love for the plants surrounding him.

‘How have you been?’ asked Michel gently, yet it was a question full of concern as he brought his full attention on me. 'It can't be easy to have been chased away from the Inquisition and now to have returned?'

I shrugged, picking away at the grass as my side, trying to deflect the question in short, sharp tugs of green. ‘It’s great to be back in Skyhold.’ I replied in a high pitched voice ‘Yes, I’m truly happy.’

Michel chuckled, playfully nudging me with his bare foot ‘That was the worst lie I have ever heard, and I used to be apart of the Orlesian Court!’

With a sad smile, I nodded by head. ‘I’m a terrible liar. In all honesty Michel, I don’t know what to think about being back? I know I need to be here, it’s just I don’t think everyone at Skyhold is glad that I’ve returned.’

The Orlesian frowned a moment before his expression softened into one of understanding. ‘You speak of Cullen, yes? Well he cares for you, I do not doubt it. When you were away he spent every waking moment trying to find you and to prove Josephine was to blame for this whole incident, rather than you. If it weren’t for him-’

‘I would have been here all along.’ I replied sharply ‘You forget, he was the reason I fled.’. Frowning in anger, I tossed aside the grass I was picking at. ‘You do realise he left me in Kirkwall and told me to stay put? And when I returned here he refuses to speak to me. Well apart from hello and good morning and such nonsense. He makes me feel like a blaggard.’

Michel laughed in amusement ‘Someone has been mingling with pirates in Kirkwall for too long!’. The ex-chevalier shrugged, drawing his attention back to my issue ‘Cullen is a proud man of little words at times, but a good man nevertheless.’

Rolling my eyes at the ex-chevalier, I threw some grass playfully at the man. ‘You and he I see have become quite good friends these days? I fear I’ve unwisely chosen a poor pair of ears to listen to my complaints.’

‘I’m just as much a friend to you as to the Commander’s.’ informed Michel seriously ‘I’m also more than glad you came back. When Cullen said you were staying behind I felt like I had lost a friend, and that made me quite sad. The trip back to Skyhold was very grievous for me.’

My cheeks grew warm, even though the breeze was growing cool. ‘Thank you.’

Michel nodded with a smile. 'Well you're back now so all is well.'

Looking over to the ex-chevalier, I frowned. His kindness was chivalrous but I knew his attention was more interested in the woman back at the tavern. ‘You should go back to your lady friend.’ I observed rigidly ‘I appreciate you trying to cheer me up but I’d rather you return to your friend now. Go and enjoy the night, I think I'll retire to bed anyway.’

Although hard to perceive in the dark of night, the ex-chevalier stirred in his position. ‘She was a distraction, Ophelia,’ he remarked in low voice. Lifting his eyes to mine, he added gently ‘I want to be here with you.’

The fluttering of my stomach urged me to try and change the subject, to prevent the stirrings Michel’s words were having affect on me. Yet for all my struggle, I knew I only wanted the kind words of another at this very moment.

Spotting some flowering embrium beside him, Michel leant over and picked a few of the stems, offering it towards me with a smile. ‘I know I have a bad reputation for offering you flowers,’ he acknowledged with a hint of mischievousness ‘but I always favoured the scarlet embrium over the red rose. A flower that runs wild through the Hercynian forest of like a free spirit. Every time I see it, it reminds me of you.’

Narrowing my eyes, I added ‘You always had a way with complementing the ladies. I recall you saying something similar to our cook, Madame Ruthie?’

The ex-chevalier chuckled, his voice light hearted as he ran his deep blue eyes across me. Drawing closer to me on his knees, he presented the flower between his forefinger and thumb. Yes but with you I meant it.’ he confessed. Sweeping his blonde hair back with his hand, he threw me a warm smile ‘With your permission?’

‘Thank you?’ I smiled, extending out my hand.

I reached for the flower he presented. As I drew closer towards the ex-chevalier he refused to part with the embrium, and we found ourselves both holding the flower, our fingers entwined. Michel's broad fingers ran over mine affectionately as he looked upon me with a warmth that excited me and melted me to the core. My heart was pounding as I looked into his eyes. Unable to resist I ran my fingers tenderly over his, craving that affection that his large knightly hands produced. Michel’s fingers beckoned me and I responded willingly.

Drawing closer to me the ex-chevalier softly lowered his lips, smiling at me so affectionately before placing his strong mouth onto mine. A moan escaped our mouths as we finally connected, falling into each others arms. This kiss was ours and ours alone, not for the eyes of Thedas, and we both surrendered to the moment of true intimacy, drowning in a soft and passionate embrace as our lips and tongues danced against each other in delightful discovery.

The flowers fell the ground as Michel eased me gently back onto the soft grass, refusing to part lips as his hands tenderly moved across my hips and waist, caressing me as I felt him firmly on top of me. He ran his hands lovingly through my hair, gently, as if stroking a dove, as he melted into deep kiss after deep kiss. My core burned with desire as I felt his strong weight anchor me, enticing me with sensations I craved more and more. His skin smelt of orange and clove, and he tasted even sweeter, as he tenderly kissed me. Finally the ex-chevalier pulled away, looking down at me lovingly before lifting me back up to sit once more.

‘I am sorry.’ he remarked politely ‘That is the second time I have enjoyed kissing you. Once again, I shouldn’t have presumed-’

Drawing my eyes to his I shook my head. ‘Don’t be sorry. That was the second time I enjoyed it.’

Rubbing his hands together, the ex-chevalier appeared very happy at my reply and drew his arm around me in a tender hug as we sat resting against the stone bench, side by side, looking up at the stars. The Orlesian turned his head to me with a beam that could not be erased, his eyes falling over me as I sat watching the night unfold.

‘I’m sorry for how they treated you in Orlais.’ I obsereved quietly, somewhat out of the blue.

Michel turned his head, curious at my meaning. 

‘It goes over in my head so often. You are one of the most kindest, nicest and most decent people I have ever met Michel. I know it’s ridiculous, but after I was informed as to how they treated you in Orlais I began to loath Empress Celene. Even now, I try to avoid appeasing their issues when addressing the war council.’

Michel shook his head, as if to dismiss the comment ‘I deserve a lot more for what I’ve done.’

‘Leliana told me about Imshael.’ I added, guessing this was the regret now covering his face.

The ex-chevalier shook his head ‘No. I-’. He turned to me somewhat miserably ‘There are things about me that you would never forgive, and that makes me so very sad.’

Taking his large hands in mine, I squeezed them with a smile ‘I would never judge you.’

‘_Ir abelas, ma melava halani an belamas vol arlen’tha_.’ murmured Michel, throwing his eyes desperately across the garden.

‘You speak elvish?’ I exclaimed in surprise ‘What does it mean?’

Refusing to let my hand go, Michel squeezed it hard ‘It means...I am sorry, you have helped me and I have deceived you.’

Tilting my head, I had no idea what the man was referring to. ‘Deceived me? How?’

‘I am half-elf.’ confessed Michel, his deep blue eyes looking intensely into mine ‘It is a secret I hold close to my heart.’

‘Is that all!?’ I smiled softly, shaking my head in confusion ‘What of it? How is that a deception?’

The ex-chevalier shook his head, appearing troubled. ‘You do not know my past Ophelia.'

Throwing him a reassuring smile, I nodded to him. 'Then tell me?' 

'My mother was an elf and my father a human commoner.' began Michel 'I grew up in the slums of Orlais, in an alienage in Montfort. My mother dies when I was young and I was orphaned as a child. I was adopted when I was ten. A noble, Comte de Chevins, took mercy and changed my identity to Michel de Chevin, a distant cousin of the Chevins.’. The ex-chevalier chuckled bitterly ‘Very distant. Don’t you see? I am a falsehood. A lie. Pretending to be what I am not. You see a Orlesian noble before you but that is not my true fabric. I want you to know me, and yet my past is riddled with lies, dishonour and deceit, even to the point where I have rejected my heritage and put my own people to shame. I am shrouded in a false cloak of honour.’

Running my hand across his golden hair, I stroked his broad neck tenderly. ‘No.’ I whispered ‘You are too hard on yourself. Look at all that you have accomplished? I couldn’t begin to fathom what it would have been like to live as a half elf in an alienage? From the alienages I have seen, including Kirkwall’s, they are terrible places to live in.’. Holding his head tenderly in my hands, I held his attention ‘Michel, your present actions have shown me who you are, not your past. You are brave and skilled warrior full of honour. And more importantly, you have a good heart. You should be proud of the person you are.’

‘I have not always been the man I am now Ophelia.’ Michel warned, looking as deathly as a graveyard. ‘In the alienages, the chevaliers would come and kill the elves to test their blades, often.’

‘The chevaliers? Why would they do such a monstrous thing?’ I asked.

‘No, you don’t understand...I..I am sorry.’ Michel looked mortified, turning his eyes away from me in shame. ‘I am not what I am. Forgive me, Ophelia’. Withdrawing his hand he stood up abruptly. Looking at me with eyes that could have melted the coldest of hearts, Michel added ‘I want to be honest with you but I loathe the words of my confession on this night. Soon I will tell all, until then I can only hope that one day you will forgive me.’. Sadly, the ex-chevalier turned away, his shoulders heavy as he marched off into the night, leaving me in utter perplex.

‘Michel?’ I called out, but the only response was the soft rustle of the trees above.

I wanted to run after him and reassure him, but I knew the ex-chevalier desired to be alone. Racking my brain I couldn’t fathom what had just happened. Was being part elf so shameful in his eyes? There had to be more to it, but what?

Casting my gaze down to the grass, I brought my hand to the loosely scattered embrium blooms. Laying limp on the grass the flower was an echo of it's former self, now crumbled, discarded and already starting to wilt.


	19. Blood Lust

  
_Come hither, Come hither_   
_Let us go thither_   
_Do as thou wilt_   
_I will see you anon_

_My apple, my cinnamone_   
_So faire in the spring_   
_I shall offer you a pear_   
_And a black lon dubh wing_

_By my troth, you are sweetness_   
_Prithee, what is thy name?_   
_I have but naught to offer_   
_But my heart in it’s flame_

_Off we shall fled_   
_On Summer’s eve wed_   
_Come hither, come hither_   
_Let us go thither_

_\- sonnet by a love struck fool_

My dreams refused to let me rest that night, asking me over and over, growing more furious in turn, what was the meaning of betrayal? A rush of wind swept past me, telling me that it was the fond thought of another. The water of the ocean spilled over my waist and roared that it was the aching to be apart from another. As I fled back to the warm ground of the forest, it wearily murmured that betrayal was in a physical act. My heart burst in flames as the furious fires fiercely informed me that betrayal was the burning desire you could never quench.

With a sharp breath I awoke in my bed at Skyhold, a few peaceful moments passing by before the memory of the kiss in the herb gardens came flooding back into my mind. That kiss. Cullen’s paranoia over Michel and I had proven, to my shame, to be somewhat accurate, and I was feeling riddled with guilt. I loved Cullen, so why had I enjoyed that kiss? Was it still a betrayal if the Commander wanted nothing to do with me? Did it matter either way?

My thoughts were drowning me in loathing before I was distracted by yelling and loud noises that sounded all the way from the courtyard in Skyhold. The whinny of horses, the clatter of armour and weapons, the raucous of soldiers preparing themselves and the barking orders of the head officers directing the men and women to their positions, I could hear it all and it filled me with concern.

Rushing to the entrance of the main hall, I joined a large group of people eagerly watching below from the platform outside. Casting my eyes in confusion, I could see at least forty Inquisition soldiers and a few dozen mages, some saddled and ready, while others were prepared on foot. Barking orders to the soldiers at the front of the group was Cullen, mounted on his black steed in his full plate armour. Holding up his long sword, he appeared to be instructing the soldiers how to thrust out and across, possibly a tactic to use while on their mounts.

Walking up beside me, Cassandra threw me a worried look ‘A group of Red Templars have been spotted on Gherlen’s Path.’

‘How far away from Skyhold?’ I asked fearfully.

‘Close.’ she replied ‘Although our scouts inform us there are about thirty in total and no more following from what we can tell. Nevertheless, I fear this will be a terrible fight.’

‘I should go with them.’ I replied hastily ‘They’ll need my magic.’

‘No’ replied Cassandra sharply ‘We need you alive. We are sending twenty mages with the soldiers.’

‘What?’ I remarked angrily ‘And you don’t need them alive?’

‘This is what the Inquisition is about.’ replied Cassandra sternly ‘Your mark is the thing that keeps us from sending you out onto the field unless necessary. Have you not realised this yet Inquisitor? If you fall today, we all fall tomorrow.’. Turning in agitation, Cassandra proceeded down the steps towards the soldiers.

Casting my eyes down at Cullen on his horse, my heart dropped. If Cullen fell today, I too would fall. He was about to ride out into danger as I was helplessly looking on. All it would take was one blade, one arrow to pierce his flesh when he was looking the other way, and he too may fall.

Many things had been left unsaid between us, and Maker damn me but I needed to touch him, even if was for the last time. The desire was too much as I hastily began pushing past the group on the stairs, desperately trying to make my way down to the courtyard, only to see the soldiers commence riding out when I was halfway down the stones. A magnificent stampede, they shook the round like a herd of wild brumbies as they rode out to meet the enemy, and I managed to glimpse the back of Cullen’s head as he rode out through the gate.

‘No.’ I murmured to myself, easing myself onto the cold stone steps, the empty gates mocking me as the crowds dispersed, going about their day once more as if nothing had happened. What if that was the last time I ever saw him? Our last moments in this life a reunion of silence, and a memory of heated conversations and accused disappointments in its wake. It couldn’t be this way. Maker please, it couldn’t…

The day continued like any other day, with Bull’s mercenaries training beside The Herald’s Rest, the sound of Harritt making armour in the Undercroft and Sera practicing her archery on a target residing precariously beside an ornate stained glass window near the Chantry temple room of worship. Michel de Chevin had remained behind, and was busy training recruits in the circle, and I desperately avoided him throughout the day as I crept about the keep.

Driving myself insane, I tried to distract myself, but nothing appeased the uneasy sensation of knowing Cullen was risking his life at the hands of the Red Templars while I aimlessly drifted Skyhold. Having fought a few red templars myself, I knew how strong an enemy they were. Brute was their strength, unnatural as their red lyrium glow. But thirty of them? That was too many contend with.

With wringing hands and biting nails, the morning passed painfully through into afternoon, and I remained perched on the battlements like an ever watchful stone gargoyle, waiting, as Cullen must have had done many times before for my sake. I was beginning to understand his madness. I finally understood what he must have felt, and that revelation made me feel even more ashamed. I knew Cullen cared for me, whatever had happened, I knew that now. Josephine had plunged a stake between us, and foolishly we had let her win. Cullen and I were at each other’s throats, and for what? I loved him and he loved me, that was all that should have counted. Yet he tore me down, and then I tore him down in turn. And for what?

The faint gallop of an entourage sounded in the distance by late afternoon and heart pounding, I cast my eyes hastily across to the men and women who rode back through the gates. Deathly white, the bodies of some lay slung over the horses, limp and unresponsive, while others rode injured, and a lucky few rode in strong.

_Where was Cullen?_

I searched and searched frantically amongst the sea of faces, my eyes turning hazy as I looked upon each without recognition. Where was he? Tears in my eyes, I scoured the bodies that were being lain on the ground, looking for a tuft of sandy waves or a gorget of feathers, crumpled on the dirt.

Breaths growing more and more shallow as I rested my hands hard on the parapet, my attention was brought back to the gate where one last soldier rode in, and a wave of relief overwhelmed me. It was Cullen, cradling an injured mage in front of him, and yelling something out to the soldiers at the gate before riding hard into the courtyard to join his army.

‘Thank you.’ I breathed out in relief, edging my way down the cold stone slab of the parapet to take a moment to gather my wits. Head cradled, my hands were shaking and I knew that sickening feeling would haunt me forever as I sat there slumped on the battlements, waiting for the fear to subside. Who knows how long I sat there, thanking whoever was watching out for Cullen over and over again. Finally, I gathered my strength and rose to my feet. I knew what had to be done.

Making my way through the courtyard, down to the soldiers quarters, like walking in a dreamy daze of surrealism, I reached the Commander’s prep room, knocking hastily as the soldiers passed me in the hallway with nods and ayes. Moments later, the door opened and I was met face to face with the ex-templar, looking rough, battered and consumed from the recent battle, and somewhat surprised at my sudden appearance.

‘Ophelia?’ Cullen remarked as he achingly rubbed his shoulder, a fresh wound surfacing on his chin from the cut of a blade ‘What is it?’

Breathing out in relief at the sight of him up, I threw him a concerned look as I examined his wound ‘You’re hurt.’

‘It’s nothing, just a scratch.’ dismissed the Commander ‘A damn marksman came at me with a dagger when I was trying to fend off a red templar knight.’

‘I’m so glad you’re okay, you have no idea.’ I replied in relief ‘I need to speak to you. Please can I come in?’

Somewhat perplexed, the Commander nodded and let me pass into his soldier’s office quarters, and I entered into a room with a desk in the corner, some books piled on top and a half empty weapon rack and armour frame on the adjacent side of the room. A rather simple preparation room for the head of an army.

As the Commander closed the door and turned back to me, I literally jumped at the occasion to blurt out my sentiments. ‘Cullen...I saw you ride out this morning and feared the worst.’

‘It was a hard battle, but we were victorious.’ remarked the Commander wearily ‘Although I am afraid some will not live to tell the tale.’

‘How many?’ I asked somberly.

‘Five mages and seven soldiers.’ he replied bitterly, pouring a chalice of water from a jug and downing it in furious gulps. Putting down the cup, he started to disarmour, unbuckling his cuirass achingly as he raised it over his head and placed it on the armour stand. Pulling off his tassets, the Commander continued to peel off his trappings until he was left in a white shirt and black pants, that he wore underneath his armour.

‘You came back.’ muttered Cullen after a few moments of silence ‘After everything I said, you still came back.’

‘I came back for the Inquisition.’ I replied adamantly ‘It was the right thing to do for the realm.’. I threw a stern look at the Commander as he frowned back at me ‘I know what you wanted but I don’t follow orders from you, okay?’

Breathing out heavily, Cullen shook his head in agitation ‘Is this why you have come to speak to me? I have just spent a day in battle Ophelia, surely this can wait?’

‘I need to stay here and fight for the Inquisition’ I repeated sternly ‘I just needed you to know that.’

'Duly noted.' replied Cullen crisply, recommencing to remove his armour before pausing in his tracks. The Commander shook his head in frustration, throwing his hand towards the door ‘Did you see what happened today? Our soldiers and mages are dying. They fight and they die, and they fight some more and they die some more. That is the way of war.’. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze hard upon me. ‘I don’t want you to die.’ yelled out Cullen ‘Damn it Ophelia, we were apart and it destroyed me, but I knew you were safe in that cesspit of a city. I left knowing you were finally safe.’

‘I thought you just wanted to be rid of me.’ I replied miserably, cursing myself as my lip started to quiver uncontrollably.

‘What man in their right mind would leave someone they loved to live in The Hanged Man?!’ replied Cullen furiously ‘Do you really think I wanted that for you? For me to be away from you? By Andraste, of course I don’t! You are everything to me. It took every part of my strength to leave you and now you come back just like that? Go back to Kirkwall, for pity's sake, and leave this madness. I implore you.’ Passionately he grabbed my hands in his, running his fingers along my forearm desperately, as if begging me to understand.

‘Do you want to know the truth?’ I appealed ‘I know I have a duty to perform, and that is what I must do. I also know I want to be here because it is where you are. I saw you leave this morning and faced with the reality that I may have never seen you again I was sickened. I love you and I can’t live without you. Whatever has happened, I let that keep me away from you. Don’t push me away, I beg you.’

The Commander’s face softened as he moved towards me, cupping my face heatedly as he pressed his mouth against mine, before covering my face and neck with savage, pent up kisses.

‘I want you here with me, of course I do.’ he murmured heatedly ‘That is all I have ever wanted. I didn’t think you would ever want me after what I did.’

Frantic and desperately I kissed him back, grabbing his head in my hands and tasting him deep, the ex-templar running his lascivious salty lips across mine.

‘Say you forgive me, please Ophelia.’ Cullen murmured between kissing my cheeks, and forehead, neck and shoulders, pulling away at the material of my top to suck hard on my skin ‘I need to know you do.’

‘I forgive you. I forgive you’ I whispered breathlessly, a shaky laugh on my lips ‘I forgive you.’

Grabbing his hands across my cheeks, Cullen held my head and pressed his forehead against mine. ‘Thank you.’ he murmured.

Running his hands across my waist, I could sense the ex-templar’s breathing growing heavier as his eyes lulled shut for a moment, as if possessed. Catching my breath, Cullen pushed me a few paces back so I was pressed against his desk, as he began kissing as my neck more aggressively, forcing my hands down hard on the table as he pushed himself onto me. Suddenly he pulled himself away, turning back to drink more of the water in the chalice on his desk in hasty gulps.

‘You should go.’ he added after he had drained another chalice ‘I’ve just run my blade through a dozen enemies. My blood is up.’

‘What does that mean?’ I scoffed, watching him as he tried to distract himself from looking at me, removing the greaves off his legs, the metal stained red as he cast it against the wooden rack. ‘Are you ignoring me again?’ I accused sharply.

The Commander shook his head, throwing a desperate, if not carnal, look my way. ‘No of course not.’ he replied darkly ‘You don’t understand, the moment after battle, the exertion and stamina, blood and sweat in the air, the feel of your pulse throbbing as you plunge your blade into your foes, that adrenaline surge...all of that makes me incredibly...savage in the aftermath. I’m in no mood to play nice.’

‘So you’re warning me to run before you ravage me?’ I chuckled, raising my brow in intrigue.

Cullen looked in utter torment as he ran his eyes up and down me. ‘You don’t understand. I need to seed you.’ growled Cullen ‘I know you’re ripe at the moment, and you are doing things to me that no woman should do to a man. I have very little willpower at present, so I beg you, you need to leave.’

I grinned, knowing he was right, although his memory of my cycle was a little disconcerting. Two weeks after my courses, and many a week without Cullen’s intimacy, I was feeling the same primal instinct, post battle or not.

‘Then fuck me.’ I teased, deciding to play along ‘and bury your seed deep. You know I take thistle and wild carrot seed poultices to avoid any mishaps. Take me now, if that is your will?’

Cullen ran his hands through his hair in anguish ‘It’s not just that. I mean it, I can’t play nice Ophelia.’ he warned ‘I’ve craved you for so long and with this blood lust surging through my veins at present, I risk taking you somewhat more savagely. I cannot control it, and I do not want to hurt you.’

That was enough to sate my curiosity and I began to unbutton my top. ‘Do your worst.’ I remarked in wicked delight.

His eyes were wild and frenzied, and I could still see specks of red flecked on the Commander’s face from the blood of his enemies. Heavily breathing, Cullen heatedly ripped off his white shirt and threw it to the ground, following on with his black pants that he kicked off furiously, until he was stark naked, muscular, hard and covered in a sweat covered scent that made my senses scream in wanton lust.

Roughly the Commander lunged at me, pulling my hips barbarically against his body. ‘I’d breed you every month if I could.’ growled Cullen, loosening my belt and unbuckling it sharply, before pulling down my pants roughly as he lowered onto his knees. Running his lips lightly across my stomach, his warm breath sent bumps across my skin. ‘The mere thought of filling your belly makes my dick swell and become so fucking hard.’ he whispered heatedly ‘Conquering you mercilessly, savagely and relentlessly in this primal urge I cannot fight.’

Rising once more to meet my eyes, like a predator meeting its prey, he pushed me back against the desk. Grabbing his erection in his hands, a few drops of pre-cum had oozed out.

‘It’s been waiting a long time to fill you again.’ he murmured. Running his fingers over the drips of sticky semen, he brought them up to my lips.

‘Taste’ he purred, his eyes drilling into mine, running his forefinger across my lips, smearing me with his glistening divinity, and encouraging me to suck his saltiness while he growled deeply in approval. He was a brute smearing his scent across me as if claiming me as his own, and I relished the hold he had over me.

Pushing me back against his desk, the ex-templar roughly spread my bare legs aside, as if he owned them and what were between. Cullen groaned as he let his middle and fore finger trail down across my pink slit, the wetness coating his digits as he drew them up to his mouth and tasted them.

‘Sweetness’ he growled, returning for more.

It was incredibly erotic seeing the Commander taste me so brazenly, like he was savouring the juices of a ripe melon, running his fingers into his mouth and sucking them dry. Cullen was indeed wild in his state, his blood up and all he wanted was to fuck, a need I could see in his frenzied eyes. It was hot and completely fascinating to see him so fixated, and naturally I was perversely turned on by it.

Standing before me, his massive girth pulsated, mast high before me, as hard as stone as it gorged with blood. With my ass pressed against the table, Cullen came between my legs and positioned himself.

‘Take me deep.’ grunted Cullen as he thrust himself through my slickness, up into my core. So aroused, I surrendered to the Commander, relaxing my muscles and giving myself completely over to him as he sheathed himself as deep as he could possibly reach. I could feel the tip of his intruder on the limits of my insides, hitting that spot mercilessly as he moved in and out of me as I milked his cock. It had been too long since either of us had release, and we both moaned at the sensation of his penetrations. Opening up, I let him use me to his will as he pounded angrily into me, driven by an impulse that he couldn’t escape. Cullen needed to use me, and Andraste preserve me, I wanted to be used.

Growling like a wild animal, like a beserker on the battlefield, Cullen lent firmly over me, his prowess demanding the authority he had over me, performing his primal urge as he thrust hard. Aroused and swollen, his cock was pulsating in my depths, and he moaned at every firm stroke, a throaty huskiness escaping from his throat.

Running his lips lightly over mine, Cullen refused the kiss I wanted to bestow, pulling away cruelly with a smirk every time I tried to make impact. Instead he kept his eyes directly above mine, staring deeply into me as he fucked me with long strokes. Every thrust of his member I cried out, my eyes lulling shut in possession as he conquered me.

‘Look at me.’ threatened Cullen as he watched me shudder through each thrust, his muscular frame pushing up harder with force ‘Straight into my eyes, I want to see your soul staring back at me while I fuck you.’

Almost as if punishing me, he would fuck firmer and harder before pulling back to slow, tender strokes. My core buzzing, all I could think of was taking him deeper and harder, but he knew the control he now had over me and was growing more and more aroused by it. Panting in arousal, Cullen played me in delight, enjoying my whimpers and pleas for more.

With a smile, he felt me tighten around him and the ex-templar slowed his pace suddenly to a halt. ‘You’re not thinking of doing that yet?’ he murmured devilishly ‘I cannot allow that. I want you to beg...when the time is right.’

‘Never.’ I grinned, and grinning back Cullen forced himself hard up into me, producing a whimper from my lips.

With a dominant hand, Cullen pressed my chest down so my back was flat against the table, and raised my hands above my head, securing them firmly with his grip, as he continued to torture me with long strokes, his breathing growing more and more shallow as he ravaged me. I craved for his aggression, moaning as he forced himself furiously into me as I helplessly accepted it, only for him to slow down once more. Cullen mocked me with tender, gentle penetrations that were only done to taunt and tease me.

‘Beg me.’ demanded Cullen again ‘I can continue with this pace for a long, long time. You know I rather enjoy torturing you when you don’t submit to me.’

‘You’ll come before then, and I don’t submit.’ I hissed, raising my hips higher to try and take him in deeper. Wrapping my legs around him, I tried to encourage his more forceful penetrations.

‘Tut tut.’ replied the Commander, withdrawing suddenly and wrenching me off the table roughly. Turning back to the pile of clothes discarded, he rummaged about before procuring his black, leather belt. Slapping it hard against his hand, the heavy smack of the leather cracking sharp in the silence of the room, he walked back to me with a dark smirk on his face. I couldn’t draw away from his amber eyes as he looked wickedly at me, a master standing over his submissive, his height and towering frame overshadowing mine as I knew I was helpless against his wrath.

Stroking my nape with an aroused sigh, Cullen brought the leather around my neck, and I gasped as he secured it tight around my jugular.

‘Good girl.’ murmured Cullen ‘Accept your collar.’

The beating in my chest was overwhelming, I had never seen Cullen this ruthless before. He had transformed into a sadistic master, one that wanted to inflict all sorts of pain and pleasure on me for his own gratification. A dark prince beckoning me into his kingdom, and I wanting to join him.

The Commander placed one soft kiss on my cheek before yanking the leather with him firmly as he led me on. Choking and spluttering, I stumbled on, being pulled quiet roughly, more aroused than ever as a naked Cullen dragged me along, as he would a prisoner.

‘Come.’ he muttered, opening the adjoining door, to my horror, and leading me through into a weapons room. The thrill of someone seeing us was titillating, and yet thankfully there were no awaiting eyes. The room was similar to the former we had been in, although there were many racks of weapons, and shields, and a larger table in the center of the room.

‘Lie flat on the table.’ Cullen ordered sharply, like he would order any recruit, turning to secure the lock on the door ‘And don’t you dare move an inch unless I say.’. His voice was stern and unforgiving, and I was under no delusion that I would suffer the repercussions if I didn’t obey him.

Making my way to the center of the room, I climbed onto the table and lay myself on the hard, wooden surface, the roughness of the grain scratching my naked skin as I waited in ragged breaths of anticipation. I didn’t know what Cullen was capable of in this state, and I was more than a little nervous and excited.

Cullen watched me from across the room, his fingers dancing across his lips, his erection hard and mast high. He stood silently, taking me in for a long while as he firmly stroked his dick. After may torturous moments of waiting, the Commander slowly came over to my side. With one hand still firm around his erect cock, he outstretched his other hand, running his fingers lightly across my face, the warmth of his skin brushing against my eyelids and nose, forehead and temples, cheeks and lips, as he trailed to my neck, tugging at the leather belt a few times to hear me gasp, before wandering his hands to my chest. Arching my back, I craved for his fingers but Cullen pulled them away sharply.

‘I told you not to move.’ he growled, pulling my collar up towards him so I gasped and choked for a moment ‘What do you say?’

‘Yes Commander.’ I murmured, biting my lip in delight. I had missed the sadistic perversity that Cullen produced behind closed doors. I was mewing for it like a kitten for its milk.

Extending his hand, he ran his fingers over my nipples and slowly began to pull them up, the sharp pain feeling incredible as my once soft peaks turned into hard nubs. Alternating, he squeezed and pulled my points with his fore finger and thumb, breathing heavily as he watched me in silence. Casting my eyes across I could see his member oozing a little more pre-cum, the ex-templar hot and ready. Growing rougher by the minute, the Commander began pulling my skin tighter and my peaks higher and higher until they couldn’t extend any further and I cried out.

‘Shhhh, take the pain from your Commander.’ murmured Cullen, kneading and pinching my nipples hard a few more times before releasing me.

Slowly he ran his fingers down further, lightly tickling my thighs before running his middle finger ever so lightly across my dripping cunt, teasing it with light strokes, flicks and pinches over my bud of nerves, manipulating my clit to swell and throb, watching me with a wicked smile on his lips as I writhed under his touch.

‘Don’t move.’ he threatened as he continued to finger along my labia, watching me like a hawk to ensure I took the pleasure in complete stillness. His chest heaved as he continued to tease me, to prod me, and to transform me into a writhing body of flesh for his gratification.

‘You’re moving again. Turn over.’ he ordered angrily, and obediently I turned to lay face down on the table.

My breathing was fast as I could hear him retreat to the side of the room, only to hear his footsteps once more, heavy on the stone returning to my side. Moments later the sensation of a thick, coarse rope trailed lightly across my skin. Cullen let it run across my back, teasing it down my hips, and along the crack of my buttocks, his breathing heavy as he drew it across my flesh in swirls and flicks. Suddenly the Commander withdrew the rope and began binding it tight across my back, wrapping it once under the table and then wrapping it a second time across my hips. The coarseness of the material dug hard into my flesh and I was left bound and unable to move.

Cullen breathed in deeply, and I could feel him watching me as he ran his fingers along the ropes, brushing my skin along the way. ‘I’ve bound you tight so you can’t escape.’ he murmured ‘Do you like being bound by your Commander?’

‘Yes Commander.’ I whispered breathlessly.

‘You moved before when I told you to be still, and you need to be punished for that.’ continued Cullen ‘Does my lady wish to be punished?’

My heart skipped a beat before I replied ‘Yes Commander, please punish me.’

‘Good girl’ murmured Cullen.

Moments passed, maybe more, as I waited in silent anticipation, knowing I couldn’t move. There was no escape from whatever depravities awaited me. Suddenly four stings of sharp pain stung against my ass. Cullen had began spanking me with a strip of wood, most likely the flat side of a mock sword.

‘You naughty creature.’ purred Cullen, running his finger at my glistening entrance ‘Look at how wet you are getting from me spanking you. Does the pain make you so slick? Or the thought that my cock will soon be ramming into you without mercy? Now, thank your Commander for spanking you.’

He landed a hard whack across both my cheeks and I cried out in pain, the wood was thick and landed a painful blow. Biting my lip, I added a hoarse ‘Thank you.’

With all his force, Cullen now belted my ass again and I screamed out this time, my flesh searing with heat.

‘Shhhh.’ murmured Cullen, running his hands gently across my skin. He paddled the inside of my thighs a few times on each leg and I flinched in pain. ‘What do you say?’

‘Thank you.’ I whimpered.

Cullen continued to hit my ass, more aggressively than I’d experienced before, each whack growing harder and harder until there were tears in my eyes and my cheeks bright red and inflamed. Every time I cried out, I could tell he was taking erotic delight in my discomfort, and it was more filthy than I had could have ever imagined. When the pain reached a level I couldn’t handle, Cullen would stop every now and then, and switch to flicking me with an arrow, the narrow sting whipping me with less force but more sharpness. His punishment was indeed agonising and I wondered whether he would release me before bruising me purple with welts.

Finally Cullen stopped the assault, dropping down to place soft kisses on my cheeks, the heat from his lips adding to fire on my skin and the burning that ached for him within. He continued to kiss and rub my ass, whispering to me about how pleased he was as I lay bound.

‘Good, good.’ he whispered ‘You take your beatings from the Commander well. This makes me happy.’

Moving to the head of the table, Cullen stood before me as I lifted my eyes, face to face with his cock.

‘Look at the mess you’ve made.’ growled Cullen suddenly ‘I’m leaking.’. Pulling the belt up, my neck and head were lifted manually to meet his throbbing penis.

With a grin, I eagerly opened my mouth as Cullen pushed his salty cock through my rounded lips, and I sucked him with enthusiasm, the twinge of his member shuddering against my tongue. His cock tasted so musky and I wanted to savour him more and more. Keeping my mouth open, I remained still and let him take control, to thrust back and forth into my mouth at his own pace, the way he often enjoyed it, until I could hear him groaning loud, and I more than a little gagging from his enthusiasm. Pushing his tip to the back of my throat, he kept his dick deep and still, using his thumb to wipe a tear from my eye as his member stirred and spasmed. Locking my eyes with his sinfully smiling pair, I held him in my throat until I spluttered and was released. Moaning from the sensation, Cullen pulled away suddenly and retreated to the back of the table once more.

Loosening my ties slightly, he dragged my hips closer to him as he remained behind me, raising my ass in the air and my chest pressed firm on the table. Cullen ran his hands fondly across my red checks before moving his cock between my buttocks, lingering his tip at my rosebud to tease for a moment, a moan from his lips as he taunted the ring of muscles that pulsated at his touch, before lowering down to my other wet entrance.

Holding his cock at my cunt, he growled ‘Beg me to seed you.’

Biting my lip, I couldn’t refuse. All I wanted was him inside me. ‘Please Commander.’ I moaned ‘Fill me.’

Lips curling at his scar, Cullen smirked as he pushed himself into me.

‘Good girl, now let me go deep.’ he whispered before he began to stretch me out with his thick member, slowly entering and holding still as he filled me to the hilt. I could hear his deep breaths in the silence of the room as he stopped to feel me writhe and squirm helplessly beneath him, my muscles adjusting around his large intruder. Finally, he started to pump in and out, slow at first and then faster and faster.

Cullen grabbed my hair, forcing me to arch my back as he aggressively fucked me, hot breath from his lips caressing my neck as I submitted fully to his assault. The force of his cock pulling out to the tip and then ramming back in, over and over and over was driving me wild, his balls slapping savagely against my ass repeatedly, and Cullen grunting in deep satisfaction.

‘You don’t come until I tell you’ he whispered in my ear dangerously.

‘Yes Commander.’

Pushing my head down against the table, Cullen grabbed my hips higher and began ramming viciously into me, causing me to cry out from the sharp hit his cock was producing in my aching cunt. Moaning louder and louder, Cullen savagely fucked me as he held me down, his dick pushing to the limits inside my chasm. It took all my willpower not to come, my breath catching as I desperately tried to hold on.

‘Come.’ he ordered sharply and I cried out, a flood of ecstasy overcoming me as I orgasmed hard around his shaft, my muscles spasming violently around his cock as I whimpered in more pleasure I could bare to take.

Moments later, Cullen let out a loud animalistic groan and seeded me deeply, holding me down against the table as he released numerous ejaculations, a deep and satisfied grunt on each release, and brutally savage til the very end. His blood lust was finally released.

Head thrown down, his sandy waves covered my face as we panted on the table, utterly sated and spent. Finally Cullen withdrew from me, and moved to undo the ropes before pulling me into his arms, holding me close.

‘Thank you for coming to find me’ he murmured breathlessly, a more than satisfied smile on his lips as he held me affectionately.

Still trying to regain some decorum after such an assault, I added breathlessly ‘If that was us making up, I want to fight more often.’

Lip curled in amusement, Cullen chuckled ‘Of course you would say that you saucy minx. Mmmm but I enjoyed that.’. He moaned, kissing me tenderly on the mouth ‘Maker’s breath how I enjoyed that. Do you see what perversities you make me want to do to you?’

‘My fault?’ I replied in amusement.

‘No mine.’ growled Cullen ‘You were just in the right place at the right time.’

‘Are you always like that after a battle.’ I baffled ‘I had no idea it had that affect on you. I feel I should start escorting you more on the field.’

Rubbing his neck, Cullen chuckled. ‘Sometimes, yes. It’s a battle surge, and it releases a somewhat untameable side to me.’

‘Must be a warrior thing.’ I shrugged ‘I usually just want a cup of tea, a biscuit and a nap after battling a few bears’.

Cullen laughed, running his hands affectionately across my back as he held me close ‘Ophelia, I have missed you so much.’

‘I can tell!.’ I scoffed.

‘No.’ he replied with a frown ‘I missed you. To think I’d lost for forever, only to find you and then know I had to let you go.’. Cullen’s expression grew dark ‘I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping my distance.. Thank you for coming to find me. I can’t say it enough, but I am sorry for what happened, and it will take time for you to trust me I know that. I will earn your trust again, I swear it.’

Curling my fingers around his hair affectionately, I nodded ‘I won’t pretend it’ll take a while, but I am where I want to be. I love you.’. Looking utterly miserable all of a sudden, I added ‘When you left this morning I realised the most important thing to me was you. I was hurt, and that will subside….but to live without you...’

‘...would be a life not worth living.’ murmured Cullen, wrapping his arms around me firmer, refusing to release the embrace we both desperately wanted to stay in forever.


	20. Vengeance

A blood curdled scream echoed throughout the cave, a horrific sobbing of distress that resonated and bounced against the dull blue jagged stones, intensifying as it permeated the chasm and filled the empty spaces.

Head clutched in his hands, body twitching every few seconds, Jowan refused to open his eyes. The cave was pitch black yet he craved for it to be darker. The sound of a woman crying came beside him, the soft shuffle of hands against the dusty ground, she desperately searched for him in the pitch blackness. It mattered not to Jowan, for he did not care to comfort or reassure. There was nothing in his mind except the sorrowful abyss he was falling helplessly into, waiting to be embraced at the bottom by the deathly arms of grief.

‘Jowan?’ whispered a meek voice beside him ‘Jowan, are you there?’

‘Do not speak to me.’ he muttered, knees falling onto the cold dirt floor as his head fell forward in defeat.

Hours passed as the mage remained still, existing but not living, somewhere between life and death where all the thoughts of his existence flocked to torment him. He remembered everything. Although he begged them to stop, and the voices laughed at him in mockery, only replaced every now and then by the fearful whisper of Josephine calling out to him. Each time he simply told her to be quiet.

_Silence_…

Lily had filled Jowan's thoughts every waking moment since he had fled from the Ferelden Circle as a nineteen year old mage. Every day he had thought of her, for there was no words to describe his love for the woman. A woman who loved him unconditionally. She was an angel. To Jowan, Lily had been his radiating light in a tower full of fear.

While he was still living at the Kinloch Hold, he received information that his life was in danger by the templars at the circle. On suspicion of his practice of blood magic, he knew they would come for him soon. Jowan had broken down on the cold marble floor in the library that day, a distraught man in desperate fear of his life knowing he had been found out. Forever he would have remained on that floor, melting into the stone, surrendering to his fate that awaited him at the tip of a cold steel blade. However it was Lily who picked him off that floor and told him she would find a way to save him. With tears in his eyes he had told Lily it was okay, he would go to his death for there was no escape for a mage in the tower. Lily simply kissed Jowan's cheek and told him even if he gave up she never would. She vowed she would help him escape and they would be together, forever.

With the help of Sierra Amell, the three of them broke into the room where the mage's phylacteries were kept. Once Jowan had destroyed his he would be able to located when he escaped. After Jowan and Lily had destroyed his phylactery they tried to escape only to be discovered by Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving. Greagoir immediately sentenced Jowan to death and Lily to Aeonar, and it was then that Jowan’s hand was forced. He knew there was no other way. There was only one way to save them both, and it was there in the Ferelden Circle Tower that Jowan performed blood magic to protect her. The look on her face when she witnessed him perform the blood spell had haunted him to this very day. Jowan had witnessed the very moment her love had transformed into repulsion. Lily refused to flee with Jowan and choose to accept her punishment instead. 

Jowan fled in desperation and soon became tangled up in the web of Loghain Mac Tir. Before Jowan knew it, he had been locked up in the Redcliffe Castle dungeon, and it was there that Sierra Amell had found and released him. His friend told him about Lily’s fate, but they both predicted that she would not stay long in Aeonar. Lily was a chantry initiate, not a mage, and she hadn’t cast magic. She had no place in a mage prison, and Jowan knew she would have been released soon enough. Perhaps Lily hated Jowan for what he done, but at least she was alive out there somewhere in Thedas. Living perhaps in a small cottage on the side of a seaside cliff, where she would look out on the stormiest of days and think upon the brief moment they shared together. Surrounding perhaps with bairns of her own, and a husband that loved her dearly. Lily was living a life of happiness. That is what Jowan told himself. 

Jowan clenched his eyes tighter, trying to force out the truth as beads of cold sweat trickled down his brow. That comforting story in his head that he foolishly entertained was nothing but a fabrication. A falsity. A foul fictitious tale. For the reality was much harder to digest now that it presented itself in its hideous form. Cullen revealed the truth and it disgusted the mage. Jowan had led the love of his life to her death, and she had died alone in that mage prison. It was his fault, and his alone.

Tears welled in his black eyes, like soft rain on a millpond in the middle of night, as he obsessively twisted at the leather braid around his wrist. Green and cream strips twisted and knotted together, it was the one keepsake his love had bestowed upon him as they met in the chantry room of worship in secret, nestled in the corner in excited hushed whispers and stolen kisses. Jowan had never taken it off his arm over the years and he kept it there as a reminder of her. His Lily, his sweet, sweet Lily.

Cold fingers of bone ran shivers down his spine, as if her dead corpse stroked him from the grave. Her tender cheek, skin like fresh milk from the pail, her brilliant auburn hair that was soft as lamb's wool in spring, that he stroked tirelessly and made her scrunch her nose in annoyance as it tangled with knots. All of that was now decaying in the ground, and her lifeless bones scattered. Did they even bury her? Was she given her last rites, or did the templars merely dump her lifeless body in an unmarked grave? Or did they purge her with fire and transform her to ashes, scattered to the breeze, her death the only moment she found freedom from that disgusting place?

‘Jowan?’ called out the female voice again.

Drawing his hand into a cup, a soft blue light radiated from his palm, and filled the cave in a gentle glow. Jowan sat there catatonically with his hand outstretched, a sad lifeless puppet in a theatre of the macabre. The mage’s face was long and his eyes were dark and heavy. He was a vessel of hopelessness and despair.

As the light filled the area, their eyes adjusted to a well supplied and richly furnished hideaway rather than a mere cave. A superior alchemists table surrounded by eight large wooden bookshelves filled with tomes resided at one end of the cave, while at the other end was a large wooden table laden with pots and pans. Shelves on the wall revealed glass jars with condiments, bottles filled with seeds and herbs, dried fruits and spices. Another large wooden round table and chairs sat beside the kitchen area, a pleasant glow of white stone radiating on the ceiling that would have made an enjoyable place to sit and eat. In the middle of the cave lay a beautiful embroidered large black and purple rug, and an ornate blue and gold Orlesian chair on top of it, surrounded by piles of well read books scattered on the ground.

‘Jowan?’ murmured Josephine, running her eyes nervously around the cave ‘Where are we?’

The mage remained as still as a statue, staring blankly in front of him, the empty void of his mind extending into the empty void of the dark cave before him.

‘I cannot see her.’ he obsereved flatly, although it was a statement not directed to Josephine. ‘Her face was so clear to me. Why am I finding it hard to remember her face now? I must live knowing I will never see her face again. She is gone from me, and I am bound to this foul existence to play out the horror of her final years over and over again in my head.’

‘Jowan-’ began the Antivan remorsefully.

‘To use her death as a mockery?’ he continued furiously. Jowan’s breathing grew ragged. Looking up sharply, he threw a fierce gaze towards Josephine. ‘You were after Cullen? Was he the reason for the summoning?’

Miserably Josephine dragged her fingers heavily through her hair, pulling at the dark strands in torment. ‘Please I cannot speak about him.’ 

‘Cullen.’ hissed Jowan in disgust, lifting his black eyes to meet the Antivan. ‘That pleb. Do you see his vileness now? Tell me you see that?!’

Tear falling down her cheeks, Josephine began to weep uncontrollably before wiping her face with her sleeve angrily. ‘He deceived me. He embraced me and said he felt nothing for Ophelia. It was all a lie. All of it.’

Jowan sighed, somewhat relieved that his companion was not entirely delusional. ‘How I wish he deceived me with his fouls words.’ he murmured ‘I fear he did not deceive me.’

‘Jowan I’m so sorry about Lily.’ began Josephine.

‘Do not-’ snapped Jowan, clutching his fist in fury before it began to shake uncontrollably, He withdrew it hastily back into his black robes. ‘Do not mock me with your insincere words of sympathy. I spit on your words. You did not know her and you mean nothing to me. Keep your words. Lily is dead and the templars let it happen. Templars like Cullen.’

Josephine remained quiet, her eyes to the ground.

‘He needs to pay. The templars need to pay.’ murmured Jowan ‘To suffer as Lily did. It will be then, and only then, that her spirit will be free.’

The Antivan looked fearfully to the maleficar ‘But-but-but Cullen didn’t kill Lily?!’

‘You defend him even now.’ scorned Jowan ‘Look at your face, all bloody and bruised. Tell me why you are defending him? He wanted you dead.’

Josephine began to cry. ‘He tricked me into thinking he desired me. I see it now was a trap to lead me to you.’

‘Of course he did.’ muttered the mage, easing himself off the floor ‘Your weakness was your undoing. Remember that, now that you have a second chance in this world. That lesson could save your life.’

Making his way around the large cavern, the mage began to light the lamps and candles. Several cast iron candelabras were located in each corner of the cave, and Jowan effortlessly brought light to them all, the room brightening until it resembled a luminous and homely abode rather than a murky dwelling in a cave.

‘What is this place?’ asked Josephine as she continued to study the room apprehensively.

Wearily Jowan made his way to the Orlesian chair in the centre of the room and eased into it, a heavy sigh departing from his lips as his head rested on the soft fabric. ‘My home away from home. My mouse hole tucked away in a labyrinth of shadows.’

‘Are we in Ferelden?’ 

Jowan raised an amused eyebrow ‘We are not in Thedas. We are in another realm, one that I discovered a very long time ago...when all was lost and hope was gone. A demon aided me and led me here, and the place has served me rather well since then.’

‘Demons?’ shuddered Josephine, looking more and more terrified. ‘Please I must return home.’

‘And where is that exactly?’ snapped Jowan irritably ‘To Skyhold? Or to wherever that annoying little accent of yours bids you home?’. He raised his eyes darkly towards her ‘You don’t have a home when you''re being hunted. Welcome to the life of a maleficar.’

‘But I didn’t-’

‘Consort with a blood mage to hurt the Inquisition?’ quipped Jowan 'I do hope they believe your evangelistic pleas, instead of choke on them as I am trying not to do right now.’

‘He’s ruined me.’ she cried out in horror ‘Cullen’s ruined me and disgraced my name.’

‘Then stop crying and do something about it.’ snapped Jowan ‘Help me destroy him and the templars. Pull him to pieces and perhaps, just perhaps, we will find some peace in our miserable state.’

Josephine shook her head violently. ‘I can’t kill something I love. I love Cullen and the Inquisition.’ 

‘Do not insult the concept of love by claiming such.’ scorned Jowan ‘Besides, I didn’t say kill Cullen. Cullen’s death would not satisfy me, nor would it ensure our freedom. We need more than death. A way to gain the upper hand. To gain control. We need the Inquisition to become the Inquisition.’

‘You seek power?’ remarked Josephine fearfully ‘That kind is impossible. You cannot use the Inquisition for your own purposes.’

The mage grew silent, his fingers pressed against each other as he delved into his thoughts. ‘Is this the moment they spoke of?’ asked Jowan to himself ‘Perhaps? No surely...but then again it could be? How did I not see this before? When all is dark and you are surrounded, the searing pain will force you to rise from the ashes into a sea of red.. I thought they were referring to blood, but perhaps it was red lyrium?’

‘What-what does that mean?’ asked Josephine precariously 'What are you talking about?

Jowan waved off the question ‘You wouldn’t understand. It is a prophecy I was given many years ago by a spirit much older than anything you could imagine. It knew my destiny the moment it laid eyes on me, and even that great spirit was overwhelmed by the revelation.'It feared me and what I was to become.’. Frowning, he strummed his fingers against the wooden armrest of the chair. ‘Yes...perhaps this is it? The demon army serves him, so why shouldn’t I?’

‘Demon army?’ asked Josephine, growing more and more uneasy.

Jowan pulled his attention back to his companion with a smirk. ‘Do you believe in destiny, Josephine? What do you think I ve been doing since I fled the Ferelden Tower? I have lived with the demons and I have listened to their song and danced to their tunes, learned their lessons, and milked their strength. They saw the potential in me and they trained me'in the dark ways. They told me there would come a time when I would be called, and that I would know when it was the hour of my accent. You are going to help me, as you promised to do so in my hut.’

‘What destiny?’ stammered the Antivan fearfully.

Jowan threw her a knowing smile. ‘I have known about the Elder One for quite some time. Many years ago they spoke about him, and the part they would play in his ascension.'

‘You mean Corypheus? Who spoke about him?’ asked Josephine, a look of utter confusion at Jowan’s comments.

Jowan sighed heavily in frustration ‘The demons. Demons Josephine, demons. The Elder One has hundreds of them. A demon army at his disposal.’

Josephine stared wide eyed and fearful at the mage, and Jowan nodded.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ he smirked ‘Now you, ambassador, are going to aid the other side.’

‘What can I do? I am disgraced.’ she replied hastily.

‘You need to return to Skyhold while I make an audience with the Red Templars. We are going to feed them information from the Inquisition, and in turn give it to Corypheus himself. In exchange we shall take control of the Inquisition, and bring down the Inquisitor and the members of the council one by one, until we can claim it for ourselves.’

‘You would work with the templars?’ she replied in confusion ‘You hate them.’

‘Yes, and in time I will find a way to kill them.’ he informed ‘I need power to do that, something I lack at present.’

‘That plan is madness’ scoffed Josephine, shaking her head towards Jowan as if to appeal to his senses.

‘Madness is what transforms mere mortals into gods.’ he observed, a dark smile on his lips.

Josephine shook her head. ‘Your path is different from mine. I cannot empathise with such hatred. I do not want to see the realm crumble at my feet.’

‘There is a fine line between love and hate, all you need is a push.’ muttered Jowan as he stood up, outstretching his hand towards her ‘Come and see, and clarity shall be yours.’

Pulling her up gently, Jowan approached a standing mirror nestled between two wooden bookshelves in the corner of the cave. The mirror looked very old, an oval looking glass gilded in heavy gold with lion claw feet. Waving a hand over the glass, Jowan muttered a few words as the surface began to shimmer and glaze, like cold ice.

An image presented in the frame, but it was not of Jowan and Josephine. Instead it was of Cullen and the Inquisitor at the war table with Cassandra and Leliana, their image fading in and out and then becoming sharper as Josephine focused on the glass.

‘Look at them, all jovial and back to work with you out of the picture.' reproached Jowan 'Does it surprise you that no one looks even a little forlorn? Look at Cullen. While you are here drowning in misery he smiles and reigns like a king in that keep. Cullen couldn’t care less as to what has happened to you. To all of them, your time is over.’

Her brown eyes darted from member to member, the cheerfulness piercing her heart like a sharp blade. Jowan nodded as Josephine turned her eyes coldly from the looking glass.

‘Why would Corypheus care about appeasing us?’ asked Josephine softly 'If we offer to help, why would he agree to work with us?'

‘He wants the Inquisitor dead more than anything.' replied Jowan 'We can lead the Inquisitor and the counsel to their demise, but not the Inquisition. We can take hold of that power across the realm. The people fear Corypheus and the Red Templars, well what if they didn’t have to fear them because they were on our side?’

‘How could that be?’ 

‘Corypheus, like any other master, has his subjects. He rewards his subjects.’ informed Jowan ‘Let us become one of his subjects and fall under his protection.’

‘The Inquisitor and Dorian went into the future and saw what would happen if Corypheus had control over the realm.’ warned the Antivan fearfully ‘The sky was full of rifts and red lyrium had corrupted everyone. The people of Ferelden were dead.’

Jowan sighed ‘That is because they resisted Corypheus. If we work for him we can decide our own fate, a fate better than that. Think about it? While the Elder One rules from the Golden City we will rule the people of Thedas. Would you spend out the rest of your days in poverty and waiting for death, or rise to the occasion and live like a queen? A queen that could rule over a realm that adores her, not like it is now with suffering and death, but flourishing. You would be their saviour, Josephine. Your name would be the greatest in the lands. Bards would write songs about you and the men and women would toast your name.’

Jowan smiled to himself as he turned to grab a tome off the shelf, idly flicking through the pages as his companion mulled over the concept. Perhaps it was the many years spent in the company of desire demons, but the mage had a knack of knowing a person’s weakness, and he knew he had found Jospehine's.

‘They would never have us back there at the Inquisition.'

With a grin, Jowan replied ‘Not looking the way we do. No.’

Josephine frowned as the mage nodded.

‘Yes, like that.’ he whispered wickedly.

‘It is impossible for a human to change into another form.’ stammered Josephine Ít cannot be done.'

‘There is a rite I once learned from an old desire demon called Yiluan, a desire demon who enjoyed changing appearance every week or so to avoid getting caught. The rite is advanced and I doubt there are many who could perform it, but I believe I am capable. All we need are two souls.’

‘Souls?’ she whispered ‘We must...kill them?’

‘Naturally.’ replied Jowan ‘How else are we to take their form?’

‘And this would allow us to return to Skyhold?’ inquired Josephine. She revealed an excited, albeit small, curl on her lip. ‘We could return undetected?’

‘Naturally.’ smiled Jowan ‘A fresh start in Skyhold could do us both a world of good. Who knows, perhaps even a fresh start with Cullen in due course? Or maybe a cage that he can sit in for ten years as your little prisoner. I care not, as long as vengeance is finally served. I will ensure he sees his love suffer and die in due course and I will revel in that.’

Josephine looked curious at the mention of Cullen’s love. ‘So I could keep him? Do whatever I wanted?’ 

‘Just so.’ confirmed Jowan, taking care not to laugh out loud at the obvious weakness of Josephine. It would be easy enough to rid himself of the Antivan later down the track, but for now Jowan needed her, despite his loathing. ‘Come now.’ he added with a reassuring smile, pulling her away from the mirror ‘We have much to do and little time to do it.’

****

‘A serving girl told me a thousand candles have been lit in the hall tonight.’ informed Leliana in a dreamy bard’s voice ‘Like a sky full of stars that we have created, mortal gods waving our magic. For who could argue there is any greater beauty than the wild flicker of flame illuminating our small and insignificant moment on life's grand stage?’

‘You need to come fight a few rage demons with us, Nightingale.’ chuckled Varric ‘That’d change your mind about the whole fire fascination thing.’

The main hall at Skyhold was brimming with people that evening. Men and women sat at the many long wooden banqueting tables laden with warm breads, salted olives, steaming meats of ram and pheasant, walnuts, figs stuffed with cheese, and jugs of sweet wine. It was a small but lively feast to celebrate the final day of summer, a tradition upheld across Ferelden. Offerings were made for a good autumn harvest, and the people were hopeful of a promising year ahead of them. There was a sanguine energy in Skyhold, and it was a positive sign of days to come.

At the back of the hall, a large of group of the Inquisition members sat around a sturdy oak table, including the Commander and myself. It had been a long time since wed all been united together for a meal, and as a result we were more than a little full of festive cheer.

Goblet of wine in one hand, and an arm lingering across the back of me, Cullen drew his lips to my neck.

‘Can we leave yet?’ he whispered devilishly ‘I have this insatiable hunger.’

Breathing warm air on my skin, his lips lingered for a moment before pulling away with a smirk. A few cheers and festive taunts sounded across from a nearby table as the leering eyes of Skyhold noted the public display of affection between the Commander to the Inquisitor. Cullen laughed loudly, taking a sip of wine before turning back to me.

'I thought you didn't like gossip?' I accused, playfully nudging him with my elbow.

Cullen laughed. 'Inquisitor don't you know me at all? I love positively love it!'

‘You joke, but I'm beginning to think you do Commander. Anyway considering we just arrived at the hall we can't really leave,’ I grinned ‘unless you give cause for further gossip. And dinner has just been served so you wont be hungry for long.'

Locking into my eyes, Cullen took another deep sip of wine, the lump on his throat bulging as he swallowed. 'That is not what I hunger for.' he replied with a wicked smile, pressing his wine tainted lips on mine for a deep kiss.

‘Ugh. Can someone pass that jug of ale over here?’ asked Cassandra in disgust ‘I fear reaching my hand between those two.’

‘You could have just asked?’ I grinned, pushing the jug across the table.

‘I have...eight times already.’ replied the Seeker dryly.

'Oh Cassandra who are we to scorn affection?' observed Leliana, running her green eyes around the table with cheer. 'Like the sweet call of the first warm breeze of spring, it comes and goes as it pleases. It can easily flourish like a flower growing in the heat of the sun, or it can be frozen like ice in a heart of stone. Infatuation will float away like a wisp of cloud, but true love will draw vibrant like a prick of a rose drawing one perfect drop of blood.'

‘Or it can be savage and merciless, like my stone cock fucking you relentlessly.’ whispered Cullen wickedly in my ear.

Stifling a laugh, I kicked the Commander under the table as he continued to grin deviously at me.

'You're a poet.' I observed sarcastically.

Turning to Leliana, Cullen pointed at the spymaster's cup with a grin. 'Speaking of poets, just how much have you had tonight?' he teased 'I haven't heard the bard in you come out in years. And yet here you are, all candles and blood from roses.'

Tapping her goblet with a slight drunken grin, Leliana nodded in encouragement. 'Idle hands make good for pouring wine, Cullen. Get me another and that is an order.'

'Your wish is my command.' chuckled Cullen, standing up to retrieve the wine jug from the other end of the table. 

Blackwall eyed the Commander walking by, only to turn to me with a curious look. 'So, you and Cullen? Not that it's my business but I find it an interesting match. Mage and templar. Inquisitor and Commander.'

‘The Inquisition has brought stranger people together, no?’ shrugged Leliana, not talking to anyone in particular but very adamant in her sentiments. The bard brought her eyes gleefully towards Varric and Cassandra who were sitting next to each other, now busily chatting away as if there was no other person in the room.

I smiled to myself as I noticed the way Cassandra laughed and covered her mouth as Varric whispered something to her, their hands touching each other in secret under the table, something I had noticed when I had clumsily dropped my bread roll moments before.

With jug in hand, Cullen returned to his seat and poured into several empty goblets surrounding him. Grabbing Leliana's cup, he poured it mischievously right to the top so she couldn't move it without spilling the wine. 'There you go, nice and full.'

'Jokes on you, I'm a woman of many talents.' shrugged the spymaster. Bending over, she lapped away at the wine goblet like a cat as it sat on the table, causing the Commander to laugh even louder. 

My eyes darted to the other end of the table where a pair of deep blue eyes suddenly flashed into mine for a moment, before turning away. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to distract myself by sculling the rather full contents of my chalice, spilling several crimson drops on myself.

Cullen’s eyes ran over me, before turning to examine Michel de Chevin, who made the unfortunate decision to look at me once more.

‘He’s been staring at you all night.’ obsereved the Commander with an amused look on his face, turning to see me fumble about with the bread and cheese on my plate. Even in a room full of loud voices, I felt the painful sting of silence as Cullen waited for an acknowledgment.

‘Has he now?’ I replied hastily, pouring more wine into my cup.

‘You seem nervous? Good girls shouldn't be nervous.’ observed Cullen, his voice low and stern. A voice that I had the pleasure of entertaining behind closed doors, and to my somewhat shame made me quiver with excitement.

Biting my lip, I turned to Cullen with a meek smile ‘Wine?’. His amber eyes held my attention sternly and I sighed, rolling my eyes. ‘Why do you assume he's looking at me? Who's to say Michel wasn’t looking at you?’

‘If Michel de Chevin is looking at me like that I have greater issues to contend with than just Corypheus.’ scoffed Cullen ‘I have that nagging sensation that I’m not privy to something here?’

Looking at him almost desperately, I ran my hand to stroke the base of his neck, feeling his soft sandy curls through my fingers. ‘Do you really want to talk about this now? At dinner? In front of leering ears.’. I nudged my head towards Varric, who was shamelessly eavesdropping on us, a smug grin on his face.

Thankfully at that very moment Cullen’s attention was diverted by a messenger, a cloaked man presenting a letter stamped with a rather impressive looking seal.

‘Commander, word from Denerim.’ announced the man.

‘Maker’s Breath.’ sighed Cullen, standing up from his chair. ‘Forgive me, I shall return.’

As Cullen left I had the misfortune of a grinning dwarf sidling up to me. There was no escape.

‘That whole Goldilocks issue still chewing away at him, isn't it?’ asked an amused Varric ‘I never knew I was partial to facial expressions but the scowl on Curly’s face when he sees you and Goldilocks in the same room is inspirational! Bards will be singing about it for years to come!’

'How about we talk less about Michel and more about you and Cassandra?' I taunted, taking delight in the ever so slight tinge on Varric's cheeks now forming 'You both seemed very deep in conversation over there?'

'Okay new subject.' muttered Varric, shoving back to his old seat as Cassandra made her way back to the table.

‘Michel de Chevin needs a woman.’ obsereved Vivienne. She had been listening intently from across with table while sipping a glass of fine green liqueur that I was certain wasn’t from the old brown jug in front of her.

‘Or a superbly dressed Tevinter man?’ added Dorian, throwing a lusty gaze over towards the ex-chevalier ‘They say Orlesian men like it both ways. I have it on good authority.’

‘Well between the two of you I’m sure our Maister of Blades will have nothing to worry about.’ I scoffed. Grinning, I added ‘Dorian, I noticed that messenger Will spending more and more time in the library these days? Often without a message?’

‘Naturally.’ shrugged the mage ‘Considering the view, why would one need a message?’. The Tevinter continued to stare wantonly at Michel, biting his lip in angst. ‘Look at his complexion, as white as Orlesian cream. It is a crime to have skin as delicious as that. I just want to lick it to see if it tastes as sweet.’

‘Oh darling don’t forget his exquisite physique.’ added Vivienne with a wicked smile ‘All those bulges and tightness. Orlesian men are built to tease the eyes of everyone around them.’

Raising his glass, Dorian downed his cup with a grin. ‘Mind you, it’s a waste under all that armour. I mean we are in Skyhold at night for goodness sake, surely Cullen can let his soldiers have some time off from all that ugly metal?’

‘And what?’ I grinned ‘Let them walk around naked for your entertainment?’

‘Now there’s a brilliant idea.’ smiled Dorian.

'Vivienne laughed airly, lifting her glass in approval. 'My darling once I went to a summer soiree in Val Royeaux once where all the men wore grape leaves over their chevaliers, and nothing else. Perhaps we should encourage our chevalier to do the same?'

'He'd still have too much clothing on.' retorted Dorian wickedly.

‘Oh my dear you’re making Ophelia positively jealous talking about our dear Michel that way.’ taunted Vivienne ‘You really mustn't be so cruel.’

‘She’s with the Commander.’ dismissed Dorian ‘All the while that poor gorgeous man sits by himself at the end of the table pretending to be interested by that annoying little dwarven arcanist.’

‘Poor Michel, always so polite.’ agreed Vivienne, watching him smile as Dagna refused to let him get a word in. ‘I wonder if he sleeps with a sword under his pillow, I heard chevaliers do that?’

Dorian laughed ‘A sword under his pillow? Oh no no, I only allow two swords in my bed, never three.’

Vivienne cackled in delight ‘Oh Darling you are simply divine. You should go rescue him, for who of us can truly resist a knight?’

‘The Inquisitor apparently.’ muttered Dorian, flicking his hand towards me like a was an annoying insect.

‘You do realise I can hear you both?’ I remarked flatly, although the pair had gone off talking on another tangent, leaving me in an awkward silence at the table while Cassandra and Varric spoke on one side of me, and Leliana and Blackwall gossiped on the other. Cullen could not have been too far away, so I decided to go in search of him before he found himself consumed in his work and forgot to come back.

Leaving the main hall, I turned towards the courtyard, making my way across the stone pathway before stopping to notice Cullen’s room was dark.

‘Can we talk?.’ called out an Orlesian voice behind me.

Turning around, I could see Michel de Chevin approaching from the stairs, sweeping back his blonde hair as he drew closer.

‘You escaped Dagna?’ I joked, feeling extremely nervous. ‘Good job.’

The ex-chevalier nodded with a smile. ‘She certainly knows a lot of information about things I have never heard of before. And have heard before. And everything in between.’

‘I was just trying to find Cullen.’ I informed politely, the wine drawing flush to my cheeks 'It doesn't look like he's in his study. Let's go back inside and get a drink.'

‘There are just a few things I need to speak to you before that. It will only take a moment.’ reassured Michel. With a soft smile he added ‘Do not fear, I would not dishonour you by trying anything else. I see you have reunited with the Commander.’

‘I wanted to talk to you about that.’ I replied guiltily ‘So much has happened over the last few days.’

‘There is no need.’ dismissed Michel warmly ‘We shared one kiss in the leafy confines of a garden and there it shall stay. I for one am fond of locking up pleasant memories to recall solely for my own pleasure.’. He gently grabbed my hand, running his warm fingers across mine as he drew his deep blue eyes to me. ‘For what it is worth, I am always your humble servant.’

‘Michel.’ I began hastily ‘I’ve worried about you for days. What happened in the garden?’

The ex-chevalier cast his eyes back around the courtyard, his mind distracted. ‘I remember standing here at the Skyhold Grand Tourney, ready to fight Ser Perth.’. Breathing in deeply he smiled in fond recollection of the day. ‘Do you remember what I said before the final tournament?’ 

‘Death before dishonour.’ I replied with a smile. Of course I had remembered. 

The light diminished from his face, and sadly he nodded.

‘Death before dishonour.’ he murmured. Retreating to the base of the stairs, the ex-chevalier sat on the step, arms resting on his knees ‘That is the motto of the Chevalier. When I mentioned that the chevaliers came often to murder the elves in the alienage, I did not mention that I grew up to be one of them. A final test of our blades, we went into my home alienage one night and I murdered three elves in cold blood. Three innocent elves.’

Warm night or not, a cold shiver crossed my skin as I approached slowly to sit beside the ex-chevalier. What could one say to such a confession? It was chilling and yet there had to be more to the story?

‘So they forced you to kill three elves as a final test to become a chevalier?’ I acknowledged without judgement. I knew Michel had given himself more than enough with this terrible confession weighing heavily on his mind after so many years.

Michel shook his head bitterly. ‘No one forced that blade into those elves except my own hand. The finest order of knights across the realm and we all were born with the blood of innocents on our hands. Very honourable.’

‘That must have been terrible for you.’ I murmured ‘I can see you were put in a terrible situation.’

The Orlesian looked up to me in surprise. ‘No you cannot do that. You cannot excuse my wrongdoings Ophelia. I am shamed and will never be forgiven by whatever is waiting for us in the afterlife. Look at the horrors I am capable of?’

'But there is also good that you have done.' I frowned.

Michel stirred in frustration. 'You cannot take a life and then be absolved by saving one. The evil is done.'

‘So you ignore the good you've done, as if it counts for nothing?' I replied with equal frustration. 'What of all the people you have helped? Serving as a chevalier, and now with us in the Inquisition? What of the lives you have protected and saved from the Red Templars? Do any of those actions count for anything?’

Never had I seen the ex-chevalier so furious, but he was and it was obvious that it had everything to do with his past. He shook his head in frustration before glaring at me sternly. 

‘I unleashed Imshael into the realm.’ observed Michel angrily. 

‘As did I,’ I replied coldly ‘but it doesn’t mean we wallow in our misery and don’t continue to fight. We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of. Things that have resulted in the death of another. In Haven I had to listen to the screams of Flissa as the inn burned her alive while I fought off Red Templars that were upon a group of the townsfolk. I made the decision to choose their lives over hers. I've sent out countless agents on missions that ensured they never return alive.'

'That is not the same thing.' dismissed Michel.

'How about when I went to the Hinterlands and I murdered apostate mages that were hiding out in the caves and in the wilds?' I continued angrily 'Mages that only wanted their freedom, and here I came sweeping across the plains with my tainted cloak of the Inquisition, allowing my party to run their blades through my brethren so there was peace in the area. I could recount story after story of how my actions have resulted in the death of innocents. You think you’re the only dishonourable one amongst us? I’m sorry Michel, in this place you’re in fine company.’

Michel shook his head stubbornly. 'Perhaps I cannot dismiss my wrongdoings as easily as you can?'

Throwing him a hurt look, I silently arose ascended the stairs. After everything we had been through was that what the Orlesian truly thought about me? Whatever the answer, he had said it and his words stung like a cut from a blade. If Michel believed he was dishonourable, then we were all disgraced and I was at the top of that shameful list.

I returned to the feast table where the Commander was now sitting once more. He threw me a curious look as I plonked myself lividly back into the seat beside him.

‘Something vexes thee?’ smirked Cullen, running his eyes across me in amusement ‘Why you look positively wild Ophelia, although I cannot say I disapprove entirely. Don’t tell me it had to do with Michel and you in the courtyard?’

‘You saw us.’ I muttered ‘By the Maker, why didn’t you come and intervene?’

The Commander shrugged. ‘Why would I?’

Scorning at his comment, I roughly grabbed the jug to pour more wine. I knew Cullen was jealous of Michel and that infuriated me, however Cullen’s new stance on being indifferent infuriated me even more. I had conveniently forgotten to tell him about the kiss in the gardens, but I was beginning to wish I would at this very moment so Cullen would storm off to the courtyard and throttle the ex-chevalier out of his self hatred.

‘Michel needs to stop hogging the blame for everything that has ever gone wrong.’ I muttered angrily ‘If I didn’t know any better I’d swear he would claim he caused the rifts in the sky. And created all the Blights. And was behind the mystery of the turnips ending up in the fireplaces at Skyhold.’

Cullen rubbed his neck, sighing heavily. ‘This is my fault in part,’ he observed ‘I’ve been working the man too hard since he arrived here. Michel just needs some time off and a good wench at his side. I’ll see that he gets a break.’

‘He needs a chantry member to absolve him of his ridiculous long list of delusional sins.'

‘You cannot tell a soldier how to think and act, Ophelia.’ warned Cullen ‘Michel has experienced a great deal in his life. None of us are prepared for what our blade will draw us towards in service.’

I couldn't help but feel as if the Commander was placating me with patronising observations. It made me all the more furious. ‘We all have experienced that. Don’t play the soldier card. It’s not the matter of contention here.’

The Commander raised an eyebrow ‘Then what is the matter of contention? Your reaction doesn’t match the matter. Look at you!? You are angry, and anger is always personal.’

‘Here we go again.’ I muttered.

‘I speak as I find.’ Cullen observed nonchalantly, taking another sip of wine ‘Forgive me if I am deluded, perhaps you would care to explain it to me?’

‘Don’t you ever feel horrendously riddled with guilt about some of the decisions we have made? The times when our scouts were murdered, or soldiers lives were lost because we made the wrong call?’

Placing the cup firmly on the table, Cullen turned seriously to me, drawing his amber eyes sternly to mine. ‘I keep a list of every person that has died for this cause, and take care to look at it every day.’ he informed me gravely ‘You are emotional so I will not react to that foolish question. Just know that I never forget one person who has given their all for this cause of ours. Not one.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I faltered, feeling utterly ashamed of myself. ‘What a stupid thing to say to you. It’s just..I try to be strong, and then I have people like Michel that make me question everything. For every action he takes he ends up blaming himself for all the bad and refusing to acknowledge the good, but I cannot keep on doing the same. We cannot be drowned by this guilt, or else we’ll never achieve anything. Leliana once told me; If Corypheus is cold, I must be colder.’

‘Yes that sounds like her.’ sighed Cullen, rolling his eyes. ‘The sentiment is admirable but take care not to lose your humanity along the way. Benevolence is not a weakness, nor is empathy. A good ruler will rise to the occasion, but a great ruler will seek to understand all before striking.’

‘Wisdom instead of animus?’ 

‘In a way.’ shrugged Cullen ‘Anger can make you strong, but it can also blind you. Its better to try and understand your allies and foes. If you can see their perspective, you hold a far superior power over ignorance.’. With a sage look crowning his face like an enlightened soul, Cullen tapped his head with a knowing smile ‘The greatest of kings rule with their head, not their blade, nor their heart.’

Running my hands across my face, I groaned ‘Damn you and your irritating astute observations!

The Commander chuckled, appearing pleased the message had gotten through. 

'I feel so foolish and incompetent, while you Commander seem to have all the answers up your sleeve.' I added flatly.

Cullen rubbed his shoulders wearily 'Unfortunately you'll find experience will be your greatest mentor. I've learnt through experience, and most of it was unpleasant to say the least. As Inquisitor you will face your own battles and there will be lives lost, as you already know. However if you learn from every experience it was not entirely in vain. Michel may not have said it as eloquently to you, but he is a good soldier who feels the pain and loss of death. Trust me, the soldiers that lose that ability to feel are the ones you need to be concerned about.'

'You should be the Inquisitor, not me.’ I replied, shaking my head.

‘No thank you!’ chortled Cullen ‘Commander of the Inquisition is more than enough.’. Placing his hand on mine, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘I wish I could tell you otherwise, but great leaders are always the ones that experience suffering first hand. If you do not feel that pain Ophelia you will never understand what you are fighting for, and what you are fighting against.’


	21. Sinful Deeds

  


_Take care when wandering about, in the wilds of the valley and heights of jagged rock. What a horrific garden of wonderland we have stumbled into; where a turn of one’s heel can lead to flowering jubilation, and another leads to the twisted and thorny thicket of despair...._

‘Athalwolf! Brother dearest, make haste! We need to find the mulberries and return to mother before the sun goes down!’

A man in his thirties with black eyes and thick curly hair falling to his shoulders ran up besides a woman similar in age, her raven black hair matching his, as well as their porcelain white skin.

‘Let the servants do that.’ Athalwolf moaned.

The woman grabbed his hand securely and led him on. 'Come along!'

‘Mabel, please, let us take our horses out and ride across the valley.’ he pleaded ‘Just tell mother we couldn’t find any. This is a job for children. Besides mother doesn’t even make the pie!’

‘She asked us to find some, so find some we shall,’ chirped Mabel ‘just like we did when we were children. Oh! Look there! That magnificent bush on the hill yonder. Surely that is the largest mulberry tree I’ve ever seen. Come, make haste!’

Pulling a reluctant Athalwolf, Mabel set across the valley and up the hill towards the large fruits abundant on the tree.

‘Well met!’ called out a cheerful voice beside the leafy foliage.

Somewhat startled, the two siblings darted around to see a dark haired, dark eyed man with deathly pale skin dressed in an elegant black waistcoat. He appeared a gentleman, but appearances were often deceiving. A well dressed man and a warm smile was often enough reassurance of respectability. Little did Athalwolf and Mabel know that this man was actually a malificar named Jowan.

‘By the Maker you frightened us!’ exclaimed Mabel with a laugh, clutching her hand on her heart ‘Sir, are you a guest at the manor?’. Turning curiously to her brother, she added ‘Mother and Father didn’t mention we were having guests?’

‘No, no!’ replied Jowan cheerfully, bowing politely to the woman. ‘I come from the neighbouring estate, Wydnam Manor. I am Lord Decoteaux’s mage, Crickin Fortes. I fear I may have spotted the same berry bush on my tour of the estate, although foolishly I now realise I'm not on the same land. I apologise wholeheartedly and wish you both a very lovely day. I shall return to the manor!’

‘There are plenty to be shared.’ observed Athalwolf politely ‘Stay a while and come sit with us, for I too am a fellow mage. Also I fear my sister will drag me back without a plausible decoy, and you serve one just as well!’

‘An invitation I cannot resist.’ laughed Jowan as he lowered himself onto the grass before the bush.

Mabel busily plucked the fruits and placed them into her wicker basket, humming a merry tune to herself. 

‘I am Lord Athalwolf Guildersleeve,’ introduced the mage ‘and this here is my sister, Lady Mabel Guildersleeve.’

‘A pleasure to meet your acquaintance!’ replied Jowan ‘I had hoped to see some of that famous Orlesian summer weather and I have yet to be disappointed! I fare from Ferelden, but have been here for a few weeks. You are lucky to live in such a wonderful part of the realm!’

‘Oh Athalwolf and I am reside at the Orlesian Court in Halamshiral for most of the year.’ informed Mabel ‘We return here whenever we have the chance, isn’t that right dearest?’

‘Oh yes, my sister is an ambassador at the Orlesian Court,’ nodded Athalwolf with a grin ‘and takes great delight in gossiping about anyone and anything with a prestigious amount of inflation.’

Rolling her eyes, Mabel continued to pick the berries. ‘Hush now Wolf, how you fail to understand courtesans is beyond me.’. Bringing her attention to Jowan, she added politely ‘Wolf is a court enchanter at the palace, and he enjoys the banter whatever he may say otherwise.’

‘Delightful! It must be very lovely residing in the Orlesian palaces.’ remarked Jowan pleasantly ‘I believe Halamshiral to be the most civilised of all the cities in Thedas.’

‘Oh yes, the finest architects in the land created Halamshiral.’ observed Mabel ‘Oh and the courtesans that reside there are beautiful, elegant and talented. I’ve never met a noble who couldn’t draw, dance and speak several languages.’

‘A talent well spent.’ teased Athalwolf.

Jowan threw Mabel a smile, pointing to her basket. ‘Are the berries ripe enough?’ 

‘Look at their size.’ she observed proudly ‘I have no doubt they're delicious!’

‘Ah, I only mention it for the berries on the last tree I came across were quite bitter.’ replied Jowan with a grimace. Shuddering, he recalled the taste. 'Terribly bitter.

Shrugging, Mabel plucked one of the fruits and took a bite. ‘

Perfect.’ she grinned, wiping a drop of purple juice from her lip.

Jowan leant over and picked one particular mulberry from the bush. As he tasted it, he let out a shudder ‘My oh my, no! Bitter to the core.’

‘How can that be?’ muddled Mabel, looking doubtfully at the berries in her basket. 'How can one I tasted be so sweet and yours so bitter?

Chuckling, Jowan turned his attention to Athalwolf ‘Í fear you must be the judge my dead sir, for between your sister and I we are completely baffled on the matter.’

'A curious mystery I cannot resist solving!' declared Athalwolf. He plucked three dark purple mulberries from his sister’s collection and munching them down, before grinning towards the mage ‘I’m sorry Cricken, they are as sweet as honey!’

Raising his hands in defeat, Jowan shook his head cheerfully ‘Then the fates have decided I must be cursed with picking bitter berries!’. The three of them laughed as Mabel continued to pick the fruits. Turning his head to the manor in front of him, Jowan studied it with interest. ‘How long before you return to court? I would love to invite you both to dinner at the manor. His lordship adores to entertain and would be more than happy to oblige.’

‘Oh we will stay for another week at least.’ replied Mabel ‘I would love to see dear Lord Decoteaux again. How has he been? It had been four months at least since we saw him last.’

‘Ten at least.’ remarked Athalwolf ‘Just before the feast day of Andraste, remember?’

‘So it was!’ replied Mabel ‘Well then we simply must-must….’

Slumping heavily across her shoulders and suddenly weak at the knees, Mabel collapsed to the ground, her dark hair scattered across her unresponsive face.

‘Mabel!!!’ cried out Athalwolf fearfully, lunging to her side ‘Dearest, wake up! Her eyes are shut. Whatever is wrong with her!?’

Jowan ran over and put his cheek near her lips. ‘She is breathing.’ he reassured, casting his eyes quickly around the desolate area.

‘Cricken please, you must help!’ appealed Athalwolf ‘you must go find...you must go find…go...find.....’

Groggily the eyes of Athalwolf shut and he too collapsed like a limp rag doll, across his sister’s lap.

‘Help?’ replied Jowan with a smirk. Drawing his hands up, he formed an orb around the three of them. It shimmered blue, radiating stronger and stronger until the orb suddenly vanished and the party were gone, leaving one lone basket left on the hill. Sweet mulberries full to the brim.

****

The spymaster was looking pleased with herself as Cullen and I walked into the war room that morning at Skyhold. A messenger had informed us to immediately join Sister Leliana at the war table, and we were more than a little curious, if not altogether apprehensive at the urgency of the gathering.

‘Cullen, Ophelia, come in quick.’ called out Leliana, beckoning us in with her hand ‘Cassandra and I have been waiting for you.’

‘Let me guess, you’re sending one of us out on an expedition to some awful end of Thedas?’ accused Cullen as he approached the table. Standing beside Leliana he crossed his arms firmly. ‘I know that look, it only appears when you are either pleased or about to take delight in someone’s misery. I'm guessing it's mine.’

Leliana let out an amused laugh, the room echoing with her cheer. ‘My my, you are wicked today. I fear I shall disappoint you however. Nevertheless you have put the thought in my mind and perhaps I will muse on it later?’

Cullen raised one eyebrow playfully. ‘I don't doubt it. Well out with it! What is this news?’

‘Lady Mabel Guildersleeve and her brother Lord Athalwolf Guildersleeve have requested to join the Inquisition.’ announced Leliana, holding up a crisp white parchment ‘It is as if the Maker himself has sent us what we seek in our hour of need.’

‘The Guildersleeve family?’ remarked Cullen in surprise ‘Surely you are not referring to Lord Byron Guildersleeve?’

‘The very Lord Byron Guildersleeve himself.’ grinned Leliana ‘I thought that might interest you. His daughter, Mabel, has willingly offered her services to the Inquisition. She has connections of an immense proportion across the lands, including the great standing her family name upholds. Up until recently she served in the Orlesian Court as an ambassador. However she has expressed some restlessness as of late, and wishes to relocate here.’

‘Who are they?’ I asked, still in confusion as I watched the growing grins of delight mirrored between Leliana and Cullen. 'Why is this a good thing?

‘The Guildersleeve family are one of the most respected and wealthiest families in Orlais, if not Thedas.’ ánswered Cullen ‘Their entire line has chevaliers running rich through it. Lord Byron was the head of the Chevalier Order, although retired now. His eldest son, Brannigan Guildersleeve, is a chevalier. His youngest son Athalwolf did not follow the warrior caste, but serves as a court enchanter.’. Cullen shook his head in disbelief ‘We could benefit greatly from this alliance. Lord Byron has many connections to the Orlesian military. Access to weapons. Even specialist trainers. Something we have had great trouble laying our hands on while Empress Celene sits on the throne. Lord Byron has great influence over the court, this is just what we need to make Celene listen.’

‘The eyes and ears of the Orlesian Court willingly coming to our door could be spies?’ warned Cassandra ‘Have we thought of that?’

‘I have,’ affirmed Leliana ‘but I believe it is not so. From what I have learned about Mabel. For years she has felt somewhat trapped in Orlais. Josephine knew her when she was attending court, and she has confessed many times at despising the Empress. Mabel is a great admirer of Gaspard de Chalons, although it is a well guarded secret.’. Leliana shrugged ‘I am not surprised this has come to fruition, although I feel ashamed I did not think of her as a candidate as our ambassador until now.’

‘Are you thinking she could be a candidate as ambassador?’ I frowned 'Not knowing her personally, that could be a risk?'

‘If she leaves under good terms with Orlais, as I will advise her to do, then yes I believe she could perform an extraordinary role as Ambassador for the Inquisition.’ replied Leliana 'Not knowing her personally is not an issue.'

Cullen frowned. ‘What of Athalwolf? You mentioned he too wishes to come to Skyhold?’

‘The younger Guildersleeve siblings are very close,’ informed Leliana ‘one does not go without the other. I believe Athalwolf became a court mage for the Orlesian court for that very reason, just to be with his sister. I have no doubt he is a talented mage that we could put to good use.’

‘The more the merrier.’ I shrugged.

‘And Lord Byron, I assume he will show support since his two children are coming to join us?’ added Cassandra.

‘One can only assume.’ grinned Leliana, looking over to Cullen ‘I thought you would be happy about that. Imagine what gifts he could bestow in his favour? New trebuchets? You can spend all your time calibrating them to your heart’s content.’

Cullen chuckled as the spymaster teased him, his hand massaging heavily along the back of his neck as he smirked at her. ‘Maybe you’ll get some new crows and a closet full of ridiculous looking shoes?’ he taunted back 'The more ridiculous the better, am I right?'

‘Oh Commander,’ quipped the spymaster ‘if you saw some of the shoes I have obtained in Orlais you would be worshiping them on my very feet as I walked into the room.’

‘An interesting thought.’ mused Cullen with a small flicker of his brow ‘Although I’m certain I could melt them down and buy some better steel for my army. I’m sure I would have enough to equip an entire battalion.’

The pair continued to chuckle amongst themselves as they began to peruse the formal letter between them.

Pretending to distract myself, I looked over a few loose papers scattered on the table, trying to ignore the unexpected jealousy that was creeping over me as I watched the two simmer and smirk at each other. How had I failed to see it before? The truth was Cullen and Leliana got on remarkably well. Exceptionally well. Of course I knew they had known each other for a long time, but had anything else happened along the way to have produced such familiarity with each other?

‘Ophelia, what do you say about that?’ asked Cullen.

‘What?’ I replied in a daze, looking up from the paper I was studying, one that appeared to be upside down ‘Sorry, what was the question?’

‘Cassandra, Leliana and I all agree we should offer the position of ambassador to Mabel Guildersleeve. What are your thoughts?’

‘Oh yes, I think that is a good idea.’ I muttered ‘Sorry I need to go check on something. Is that all for now?’

My words seemed to have fallen on deaf ears as Cullen resumed his discussions with Cassandra and Leliana. Running my eyes over the spymaster curiously, I noticed how beautiful her fine ginger hair appeared in the sunlight coming through the window beside her. Pursing my lips as I tucked my own unruly tresses behind my ear, I turned to quickly pass through the doors, trying with little success to stop the unworthy thoughts creep into my mind.

****

An hour past midnight, I sat wearily on my balcony staring out into the serenity of the calm night. The moon was tucked away in an overcast sky and a cool breeze blew against my white cotton nightdress, sending a shiver across my skin. Since the war council that morning I had been somewhat distracted and was now trying to find some peace when I should have been sleeping. Of course it was hard to do even that when Cullen had not returned to my chambers as of yet. Although he often worked late into the night, this particular night I was beginning to wonder whether that was all he was doing when we were apart?

A loud creak at my chamber door sounded behind me, followed by heavy steps on the stairs leading up to my chambers. Throwing a brief glance into the room I could see Cullen drawing towards the chair besides the bed, easing himself into it as he pulled off his boots. A few more minutes went by as he peeled off his armour, his naked flesh in my periphery as he retreated to the wardrobe and pulled on a fresh black shirt and trousers, before eventually making his way to greet me out on the balcony.

'Sorry I had to work late again.' he apologised, drawing up behind me to place a kiss on my cheek 'I could throttle one of my soldiers. A clumsy git named Lance. He knocked over an inkpot on all my paperwork at the barracks. Took me half the night to rewrite everything.'

'Oh. That's annoying.' I replied aloofly, not too interested in warmly receiving the man at present. 

‘You’ve been avoiding me all day, and ignored three messengers I sent to you regarding matters.’ observed Cullen as he drew closer to me, running the back of his fingers across my bare shoulder ‘Why?’

‘It’s nothing.’ I muttered as Cullen eased me around to face him. I refused to meet his eyes, and he gently lifted my chin, demanding his attention.

‘Tell the truth.’ he replied sternly, a curl at his lips.

Pulling away from his hold Cullen grinned and roughly grabbed my hands, pushing them flat against the cold stone balcony behind me and pinning me against it. He leaned towards me, an amused smile on his lips. ‘Ah ah ah, no escaping.’ he warned ‘answer me first.’

Furiously I tried to release my hands but it was useless. ‘Fine. You and Leliana seem quite friendly?’

‘Like you and Michel?’ taunted Cullen, pressing my hands harder against the stone and causing me to wince. ‘Of course I don’t embrace her in public and spend intimate moments alone in the courtyard, so I guess it’s not quite the same?’

Ignoring his comments, I felt I needed to say what I was feeling. ‘In the war room this morning. If I didn’t know better I would have said you were flirting with her?’ 

‘Was I?’ asked the Commander in amusement, lowering his head to run his lips hotly against my collarbone. ‘Is that what your jealous beautiful green eyes saw? Pray, what else have I done?’

‘I’m being serious.’ I frowned, struggling helplessly against his weight as he lowered his mouth to the left string strap of my dress.

Peeling down my strap with his teeth and exposing my chest, Cullen looked up at me sternly as he rose once again to meet my eyes.

‘So was I.’ he growled.

‘Have you been with her?’ I asked.

Cullen chuckled, running his hands against my raw flesh.

‘What goes on in that filthy little mind of yours?’ he asked huskily ‘Always suspecting me of lusting after some woman from afar? You’re not going to accuse me of loving our spymaster next, are you? My one true love?’. Smirking, he lowered his lips onto mine softly, pulling me into a deep kiss that made me grow weak at the knees. His hands continued to knead my exposed breasts as his lips kissed sensuously along my neck. ‘I think you know what I love.’ murmured Cullen devilishly, as his hands ran down past my waist and then suddenly up under my nightdress to my nakedness underneath, his wicked fingers trailing up my thighs.

With all my willpower I pushed him away and he chuckled, releasing me as I readjusted my dress and walked over to the draw the curtains inside my chambers. Turning back finally, I could see the Commander looking out across the view over the balcony, serene as the calm night before him and without a care in the world.

‘You’re not answering the question Cullen.’ I observed angrily, coming up behind him to shove him roughly on the back his shoulder. Turning around slowly, he smiled before suddenly grabbing me at the waist roughly and pulling me tightly against him. I yelped in surprise at his aggressive hold on me.

‘My, my, the Inquisitor is feisty tonight?’ Cullen purred ‘Don’t get me wrong, I like it. I do. Do you want to rough me up some more? I’m sure I could endure a beating from you for whatever misconstrued crime I have apparently committed.’. Smiling wickedly, he began running his lips lightly across my neck, refusing to release me as I shivered from the sensation of his hot breath on my skin. ‘I could strip down and let you flog me if you like?’

‘Tell me.’ I demanded.

Groaning, Cullen pulled away and retreated to my study table to pour some wine.

‘Leliana and I have known each other for many years,’ he informed ‘but not like that. Honestly I don’t know where you get your ridiculous information from, it is ludicrous at best. However I will be the first to admit that Leliana, without the daily stresses of running an Inquisition, is a very entertaining person to be around. I always enjoy our conversations. And yes we are friends, and quite similar in many ways.’

‘Similar how?’ I asked, more in accusation than intrigue.

With a mischievous laugh, I heard Cullen mutter By Andraste under his breath before looking back towards me. ‘Well, we serve the Inquisition for one? We are members of the council, and of course there is that other shared common interest of ours.’

‘Interest? What are you talking about?’ I asked, grabbing a glass of wine from the Commander as he offered it to me.

‘Our spymaster is a little nymph behind closed doors’ informed Cullen in a sultry voice ‘and she enjoys the same play as myself.’. With a grin, he took a sip of his wine, taking in my growing rigidness, before adding ‘However talk is all we share on that subject.’. Cullen raised an eyebrow ‘Leliana is attracted to women, not men.’

‘Oh.’ I replied sheepishly.

‘Yes, oh.’ replied an amused Cullen.

‘So she likes to, what exactly?’ I asked curiously, a grin of my own forming.

‘She has tasted the sweetness of the sadomasochistic forbidden fruit.’ informed Cullen, taking another sip of the wine as he looked upon me ‘We both take extreme delight in dominating a submissive for sexual pleasure. I imagine she would love you.’

Rolling my eyes, I took a large sip of wine. ‘I had no idea,’ I muttered ‘but come to think of it I’m not surprised. Leliana does have that, what would you call it? A mischievous side’

‘That’s one way of putting it.’ scoffed Cullen ‘She told me once she liked to strip down her pets, bind their arms to their legs and run feathers across every inch of their skin for hours...amongst other things.’

‘Really?’ I remarked, drawing up to the table in interest ‘What else did she say?’

Cullen grinned, amused by my interest as he leaned towards me, his elbows resting heavily on the table as he cradled his chalice. ‘Well,’ continued the ex-templar in a smouldering voice ‘Leliana has a special interest in toys.’

‘Toys?’ I replied uncertainly.

‘Wooden phalluses, steel ones, even glass ones.’ informed Cullen wickedly ‘You know how she has a fetish for pretty things.’

Cheeks growing red, I drank more wine as Cullen’s smirk grew wider. His amber eyes took in my uneasiness with delight. He was enjoying making me squirm and had no intention of stopping.

‘Leliana told me one morning she ordered one of her pets to choose two of her toys from her collection.’ continued Cullen, running his thumb across his bottom lip as he examined me intently ‘She then made them undress before her...and then proceeded to insert one steel phallus between their sweet lower lips and a glass one up their budding derriere. She then redressed them and ordered them to walk around the whole day with both toys tightly secured thus, ordering them not to be removed lest they be punished by the full fury of her wrath.’

Spluttering my wine, Cullen started laughing loudly as I wiped the drips from my chin.

‘You’re making this up.’ I protested, looking more embarrassed by the moment. 'That's just insane!'

‘No I assure you I could never create something as delectable as that.’ grinned Cullen ‘Now that is the work of a true master.’. Stroking my arm he added deviously ‘This is making you uncomfortable, isn’t it?’

Drawing a deep breath, I turned to retreat to bed, before hesitating and turning back again to the grinning Commander. Biting my lip, I threw him a humble smile. ‘I’m sorry for accusing you like that. I don’t know why I always like to think of the worst.’

A flicker of appreciation came across his face and a small nod of acknowledgement, as Cullen approached and pulled me into a hug. ‘When I am with you, I am only with you. I may have given you reasons to doubt me, but never my loyalty Ophelia.’ he informed softly, clasping his arms fondly around my waist as I wrapped my arms around his neck. ‘There are men out there who would carry on with others behind their partner’s back, but I am not one of them. Do not have doubt in your heart, for in mine there is only you and you alone.’. Placing a soft kiss on my cheek, he pulled away again and smiled at me. That expression. His face was soft, his expression so loving and affectionate, and it made me feel terribly, terribly ashamed.

Leaning my head against his shoulder, I breathed out deeply. ‘I’m a jealous creature by nature when it comes to you. I want you all to myself.

‘So am I.’ remarked Cullen with a dark smile ‘I think I have already revealed that hand, perhaps somewhat undeservedly.’

I threw him a small smile, my heart dropping in further shame. Cullen’s suspicions were not so undeserved. To conceal the kiss in the garden from him was deceptive, but I knew I was protecting Michel by doing so, and also Cullen’s feelings on the matter. Of course my mind laughed at this logic and whispered to me in taunts of delight that the only person I was truly trying to protect was myself.

Shaking my head, I chuckled in disbelief ‘So Leliana has a devious side?’

‘Indeed.’ mused Cullen ‘Did I spark your interest?’

Refusing to answer the question and ignoring the excitement I felt whenever Cullen spoke about filthy fantasies, I retreated to bed. Climbing under the covers and rolling to my side, I closed my eyes tightly shut.

‘Goodnight Commander.’ I remarked tiredly.

The soft breath of Cullen filled the room as he proceeded to blow out the candles, before retiring to our bed. A pair of hands reached out and ran against my naked thighs, stroking them gently as he drew up behind me. I could feel his hard, naked body firm against mine, his hands running across my stomach as he placed one deep kiss in the crook of my neck.

‘You don’t need to hide your fantasies from me.’ murmured Cullen ‘As your Commander I would say I should punish you if you tried to. We are together Ophelia, and you need to open yourself up to me completely.’

‘I thought I already did that.’ I quipped, resulting in a chuckle behind me.

‘Witty one liners from a mage, who would have thought?’ scoffed Cullen.

‘Your desires are mine.’ I murmured sleepily, my breath drawing heavy as I lulled into the realm of dreams ‘Do to me whatever pleases you.’

‘Be careful what you ask for.’ warned Cullen’s voice, close to my ear and yet already sounding a million miles away ‘There’s no telling what I may do.’


	22. Kindred Spirits of Melancholy

_I chased a dream_

_A feathery dream_

_Whose eyes were black as midnight_

_And all that dream_

_This feathery dream_

_Returned was barren sunlight_

_A whisper on a terrible wind_

_Mere mortals, each act we scatter_

_Forgotten and forgiven but never forsaken_

_In truth, it did not matter_

_Her spirit so delicate like crisp white wine_

_While deep fire in the mountain, tainted was mine_

_You chose the light, and I was dark_

_When angels sings, the devils hark_

_The tune was played, they made me dance_

_To this spectacle of life, to preen and prance_

_While all around me turned their ear_

_They clutched their purse strings ever so dear_

_Yet still the merriment tainted your eyes_

_My sight stole away, filled bitter with lies_

_Your horrid little lovely face_

_That plucks the string of fate without stint_

_Another whispered destiny, another dismal hint_

_To rue the day and cry out in pain_

_Beckons the question_

_Are the mad, truly, the sane?_

Of rolling green hills and valleys embedded with the promise of a fertile harvest, it was that time of year when the land needed to sleep once more. The leaves were slowly drying up and falling off the trees one by one and the sharp nip in the air grew cooler by the day. Despite the chill Redcliffe farms had never felt more lively that morning with eighty or so soldiers training hard under the guidance of Commander Cullen and The Maister of Blades, Michel de Chevin.

The new recruits had come from all over Ferelden to join the ranks of the Inquisition, and this was their initiation before they left their former lives and journied up the Frostback Mountains to meet their destiny. From young to old, crop hands to noble’s daughters, there was a vastidity of character and caste eager to take up arms for the good of the realm. It was often said that a Ferelden was the salt of the earth, and one could hardly doubt it on this particular day. The recruits were true and honest folk searching for better days ahead rather than the idle pursuits of glory. When that could be achieved then they would gladly go back to ploughing the fields and stoking the smithy, and all that once was would be as it were.

The targets were lined up against the burnt amber bales of hay as the eager men and women took aim with their shaky bows, while others kept an uncertain hold on the hilts of their blades as they were instructed to thrust.

Coated in Ferelden steel armour Michel de Chevin directed a large group encircled at the side of the field, mentoring the recruits in how to fight with a sword. Presenting up his impressive blade that had been bestowed at the Skyhold Grand Tourney, he held it firm with both hands as the group look upon it with admiration.

‘A blade is an instrument that will demand your respect.’ he called out to the group ‘Only you can choose whether to be at it’s mercy or it’s command.’. Swiping the steel in front of him in a figure of eight, it sliced fast and sharp across the air. ‘When you hit another blade in combat, take care to not meet its edge. Parry with the flat edge only, not the sharp part of the blade.’

‘That can’t be right.’ muddled one of the recruits, and a few in the group looked around in confusion ‘That’s how you fight. Blade on blade.’

‘I take it none of you have had your blade broken in battle?’ observed Michel seriously, casting his eyes around the group as they shuffled uneasily at the concept. Michel shrugged ‘Of course you can hit the sharp edge of your blade against your opponents. No one will stop you from doing as you will. Just remember it is the active part of your weapon, the sharpest and easiest to damage. If you strike upon the edge of a blade, it will chip or break entirely. Then you’ll be fighting your enemy with a hilt and nothing more.’

The ex-chevalier moved into the middle of the circle before a new recruit, eagerly waiting to parry with his mentor. Towering over the Orlesian, the Ferelden man was at least eight feet tall with a large barrel chest and waves of red hair. The giant of a soldier held a magnificent double handed broadsword in his hands, outstretched towards the Orlesian.

Michel walked lightly around the circle, holding his own blade firm as he kept his eyes fixated on the man. With a massive swing, the Ferelden swung his blade heavily across Michel, who agilely stepped back from the impending blow, an amused smile on his lips.

‘The strength of an arm and the weight of a blade may seem imperative,’ he yelled out to the watching crowd ‘however they are meaningless if you do not strike with precision and accuracy. You need to be in control your weapon or it will control you.’

With a frown the Ferelden swung heavily again, a diagonal blow across his shoulder, and once again Michel evaded the weapon effortlessly. With a flurry of clashes of steel, Michel pressed hard against the man who struggled to match his agile strikes, his footing stumbling backwards as the Orlesian pressed harder and harder onto him, the ring of steel sounding growing louder and more forceful. The ex-chevalier parried his opponent’s sword with the flat of his blade and knocked his weapon hard against the hilt of his opponent, causing the Ferelden to drop his sword, drawing his hand back in surprise as it crashed to the ground.

The group clapped as Michel grinned.

‘Do not fear the size of your opponent’s sword,_ it’s what he can do with it that counts_.’ mused the Orlesian, and more than a few chuckles sounded across the group.

Michel went up and shook hands with the Ferelden who was muddling his head in disbelief as he looked at his weapon lying in the dust.

‘I’ve never lost a sword fight in me life,’ admitted the Ferelden with a chuckle ‘let alone be disarmed like that!’

‘Neither have I.’ grinned the Orlesian ‘You fought well, just remember to practice on precise attacks. Your weapon is heavier than mine, and where I gain agility you gain force. You can use that to your advantage but you need to make each swing of your blade count. If you don't, you're just wasting stamina.’. Turning back to the crowd he added ‘Now everyone pair off and start parrying. And remember, accuracy over brute strength. Reflexes over frantic thrusting. Your sword needs to be one with your arm. It needs to be apart of you, and your eyes need to be hard upon your opponent’s weapon.’

Scouting the field, he could see Cullen yelling at a rather confused looking group of recruits apprehensively holding pike staffs and awkwardly lunging them upwards at an angle. The Commander looked like a man that had run out of patience as he tried to instruct the group how to form a pike wall, an essential formation to contend with cavalry.

With an amused smile the ex-chevalier turned back to his own group of soldiers.

‘This is horse shit.’ shouted one of the new recruits, a young lad with matted brown hair and a hardened face ‘That group over yonder are sparring with friggin’ sticks, and look at those idiots over there who can’t even hold a bow let alone shoot one. How the hell are any of us a match for those Red Templars? Might as well have signed up for our execution in the town square.’

Michel turned to the recruit, a frown on his face as he drew his blade and pointed it towards every face as he turned the circle ‘A true warrior does not fight because of how well he yields his weapon or what that weapon is made of. A true warrior fights with passion in his heart. You all fight for a cause. A person that fights with passion in their heart is a force to be reckoned with. Do you think I became a knight in a day? It took years of dedication and hard training. You start with sticks because that is where you begin your journey. That is your first step and it will be the most important step along the way.’

The group fell quiet as Michel cast his eyes sternly to them. ‘Now go and practice.’ 

With a heavy sigh the Orlesian leant against the fence for a moment’s break. Whether he wanted to accept it or not, he was beginning to act as serious and hardened as the Commander. Sternness aside, Michel wanted to instil in these soldiers a passion that he never was encompassed with when he learned to become a chevalier. He wasn't interested in mentoring with an iron fist. No. What he desired to do was to show these soldiers the true meaning of honour, and ingrain it into their very character. Merely thrusting a weapon in their hands and telling them to fight seemed wrong, for he knew there had to be more to make them truly great warriors. That was his calling and that would be his atonement.

A rickety carriage rolled slowly by as the Orlesian rested, and he could hear the voices of two women as they passed, eagerly speaking in rather loud hushed whispers.

‘It’s him, the Maister of Blades!’ exclaimed the first woman, eagerly looking out of the coach. Her eyes lit up as the carriage came close to the fence where the Orlesian resided.

‘Imagine being given a rose by him?’ dreamily whispered the second woman, poking her head out of the window beside her friend ‘Makes you hate the Inquisitor even more than that ghastly dress she was wearing on the day.’

'He only did it because she's the Inquisitor.' dismissed the other woman 'It was an act. He's a bachelor ready for the taking!'

Wicked cackles of delight sounded as the carriage continued to roll along, with a few recruits nearby snickering at the comments made about their mentor.

Feeling his blood rise more than a little, Michel threw his sword on the ground and walked away from the recruits with a clenched jaw. Grabbing an abandoned bow lying beside the fence, he drew aim and released an arrow sharp into a target attached to a bail of hail. The arrow head landed square in the middle of the target. Again he drew another arrow, and another, and another, until his arm was burning. He did not care. The pain was a welcomed distraction.

‘I fear for the person that was intended for?’ mused a voice beside him. Turning, Michel saw Cullen approaching with a raised eyebrow ‘Did that target talk back to you?’

Dressed in his heavy steel armour, Cullen’s brow was coated in sweat and he looked spent like his companion. The hot morning sun in Ferelden was unforgiving, and their recruits were proving even more so. The Commander rested against the fence as he watched the recruits nearby flail their sticks about. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his companion.

‘I’m tiring of the incessant comments.’ Michel muttered, drawing his bow again and releasing another sharp arrow ‘The Maister of Blades has brought more condemnation than glory. More gossip than even I can handle.’

The Commander threw him a pouch of water, and the Orlesian caught it with one hand. Nodding in appreciation, he took a long sip before pouring the rest over his head. The beads of water fell over his blonde hair and he flicked it backwards, enjoying the coolness on his skin.

‘An unfortunate side effect of being the champion of the Skyhold Grand Tourney I’m afraid.’ observed Cullen ‘Titles are never forgiving. I still shudder every time someone refers to me as Knight-Captain.’

‘I am a soldier, ready to fight for the Inquisition. I thought I had left the pomp and ceremony behind in Orlais.’ declared Michel heatedly ‘Who cares what we were, or what we did? All that should matter is the present moment. Now is all that matters, and the cause we are fighting for!’

Kicking the fence in frustration, Michel grabbed the bow and began to shoot another arrow while Cullen watched him with a frown. After a few moments of silence, the Commander cleared his throat sharply, gaining the attention of the Orlesian once more.

‘I’ve decided to give you some time off.’ informed Cullen sternly ‘It is long overdue and all soldiers must take it, including the Maister of Blades.’

Michel looked up in surprise. ‘I didn’t request for time off. Thank you but I do not want it.’

‘That wasn’t an offer Michel, it was an order.’ informed Cullen firmly ‘You have had no respite since arriving at Skyhold. You are tired and overworked, and that is not productive.’

‘You never take time off yourself.’ accused Michel ‘There are some of us that can’t afford that luxury. The soldiers may have their roster of scheduled breaks but I do not desire such luxuries.’

‘It's as much a luxury as it is a necessity.’ argued Cullen ‘When you're overworked, you begin to make mistakes. You'll take two weeks off starting from tomorrow.’

‘No mistakes have been made on my part, and I don’t want time off.’ replied Michel in frustration ‘You want me to waste frivolous time when there is so much work to be done? We have just received this new batch of recruits! I do not need time so I can traipse around Thedas and be harassed by people like the ones here, gossiping about the champion of Skyhold and other such nonsense.’

Cullen sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes as he tried to muster all his patience. ‘Is this about the kiss between you and Ophelia?’ 

Michel’s deep blue eyes darted to the Commander, suddenly caught off guard. ‘Ophelia told you about that?’ he asked, somewhat surprised.

The amber eyes of the Commander looked up to his companion suddenly, narrowing in suspicion. ‘‘I was referring to your grand gesture at the Grand Tourney. You apparently were not?’

Michel’s heart sunk as he realised he had slipped up. ‘No...I..’ began Michel uneasily ‘Yes of course that is what I was referring to. I should return to the recruits.’

The ex-chevalier suddenly turned and began to leave before feeling a firm grip on his arm holding him back.

‘What kiss?’ asked the Commander dangerously, refusing to let go of his companion’s arm.

The Orlesian pulled himself roughly off the Commander only for Cullen to stand angrily in front of him refusing to budge.

‘If she wanted to tell you she would have.’ replied Michel angrily ‘It is not my place. Ask Ophelia.’

‘And yet I am asking you.’ scorned Cullen, looking more and more furious by the moment ‘And if you were involved then it is your place. So speak.’

Michel locked furious eyes with the Commander. ‘It was nothing, just a kiss. It happened after she came back from Kirkwall before you reconciled. She thought you hated her.’

‘So the chevalier came in to save the day?’ observed Cullen flatly ‘What else have you done with her behind my back? Come now, let’s have at it shall we?’

The Commander crossed his arms, refusing to move, and Michel brushed past Cullen knocking his shoulder quite aggressively. The Commander turned swiftly and pushed the Orlesian in the back, before Michel swiveled around and took a swing at the Commander, landing a punch square across his jaw.

Clenching his fist, Cullen threw a punch at the ex-chevalier, hitting his cheek hard and the Orlesian stumbled backwards.

The pair glared at each other before charging. Michel lunged for Cullen, grabbing him at the waist and knocking him over. Pushed backwards Cullen landed heavily against a target before it gave way and the pair fell onto the ground, throwing punches and kicking at each other as they rolled on the grass.

A group of recruits began to gather around the pair, eager to see a fight between their superiors, with more than a few cheers sounding as the men continued to throw punches at each other. Blood spilled out of both their noses, dirt and hay covered in their hair as they continued to push and punch and ram at each other.

‘You just can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you?!!’ Cullen shouted angrily ‘Or do you just enjoy other men’s women?’

‘It was one kiss, nothing more.’ yelled Michel ‘You left her heartbroken when she returned. Forgive me for actually giving a damn about her.’

Cullen lunged at him again. ‘It’s two kisses now you damn Orlesian bastard. And you weren’t giving a damn about her. You were trying to weasel your way between us yet again.’

‘It’s funny because you seem to be doing a fine job of that yourself.’ spat Michel ‘Between wanting her dead and accusing her of being....’. The ex-chevalier stopped, realising there were people listening and he had already said too much.

‘Enough!’ roared Cullen, standing up with blood staining the side of his mouth ‘You are taking time off immediately. Now go before I lock you up for insubordination.’

Michel threw a dark look at the Commander before turning away. As humiliating as it was and as loathed as he was to accept it, he had an order from his superior and he had to obey. Picking up his sword he marched across the field, refusing to look back at the Commander who was glaring at him with pure loathing in his eyes.

****

The keep was busy that late afternoon with the new recruits being received in the courtyard and assigned to their new rosters. I was anxious to steal away Cullen, having spent the last few days desperately missing the ex-templar as he recruited more soldiers in Redcliffe. It was funny how I missed the subtle things when he went away. Like the sound of his breathing at night beside me, always heavy and constant, soothing me into a deeper sleep. Or the steaming cup of tea that he brought in every morning from the kitchens before I had managed to even get out of bed, leaving it by my bedside table before starting a new day’s work. Perhaps it was the templar in him, well-conditioned to rigid discipline, but Cullen often awoke early. I, on the other hand, found the morning a strange and displeasing time of day and desperately tried to stay in bed as long as possible. However Cullen rose as the sun did and in my eyes, he was just as glorious.

Was this what wearing rose tinted glasses felt like?

I missed the way his voice sounded deeper and his amber eyes transformed into the colour of burnt syrup when he was tired, returning to me in the evening with a content smile on his lips as he eased himself into our bed. I missed his warm musky scent as I buried my head in the crook of his neck, and the way it pervaded my senses in deep intoxication. In every way possible, I missed Cullen whenever he was not by my side.

Eyes darting around the courtyard, I searched for the Commander only to spot Michel de Chevin unsaddling from his white horse, sporting a black eye and a split lip.

Fearing the worst, I rushed over to Michel who caught my eye as I approached and threw me a half smile.

‘Ophelia.’ he remarked dispiritedly ‘Redcliffe sends its greetings.’

‘What happened to you?’ I asked hastily, grimacing at the welt on his cheekbone ‘Were you attacked? Are you okay?’

Michel waved his hand to dismiss y concern. ‘No, no there was no attack. I had a little incident with the Commander.’

‘Incident?’ I asked in surprise, drawing closer as the Orlesian achingly walked over to the nearby stone wall of the keep.

Leaning against the cobbled rock, he shook his head as he kicked the dirt under his feet. ‘Cullen knows that we shared another kiss. I am so sorry Ophelia, I thought he knew about it. He mentioned a kiss, and I stupidly got caught off guard and self-confessed before I knew what was happening.’. Turning to me with wide blue eyes, Michel looked deeply apologetic ‘You must believe me. I would never have revealed that to him intentionally. Cullen is now furious. I would never wish to unharness that onto you.’

His last words were more than a little bitter and made me in turn feel uneasy. It was evident that Michel was furious at Cullen, and judging by his appearance he had every reason to be.

I bit my lip, feeling more than a little worried at the reaction of the Commander. Cullen had revealed his anger on the subject of Michel and I before and it was chaotic to say the least.

‘What did he say?’ I asked hesitantly.

Michel shrugged, pointing to his face ‘Well this is what he did, and that was after I tried to explain myself.’

‘Michel I'm so sorry. If I'd just told Cullen in the first place none of this would have happened. How could he do that to you?’

‘It was one kiss,’ Michel sighed ‘and Cullen overreacted like he always does.’

Straightening up suddenly, Michel’s attention was drawn behind me. Turning quickly I could see Cullen approaching us both. He too was sporting a bruised face, a large purple welt at his chin. Looking back to Michel I frowned. He had failed to mention he had returned the favour to Cullen rather well.

Cullen threw a cold glare towards Michel and I as he approached.

‘Cullen-’ I began.

Cullen ran his eyes over Michel and I like we were a pair of rodents, a disgusting pair of creatures that should be driven out of the keep rather than linger where we were. Cullen’s jaw was stiff and his demeanour was cool and unnerving.

‘Michel,’ he ordered sternly ‘I don’t want to see you around the barracks for the next two weeks. Is that understood?’

‘Yes Commander.’ replied Michel darkly, casting his attention away from the ex-templar.

‘Cullen? Are you okay? ’ I asked softly. Reaching out my hand, I placed it on the ex-templar’s arm but he wrenched it away.

‘Do not.’ he warned coldly ‘Michel, I suppose, had some decency to inform me about the two of you. My suspicions about you both were true, and I now know where we stand.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I scoffed, looking over to see Michel was looking surprised at the comment also.

Throwing a disinterested look, Cullen passed his eyes over the pair of us with little enthusiasm.

‘It means you have both played me for the fool for the last time.’ replied the Commander sharply.

Turning his back, he made his way back to the recruits in the barracks, already barking orders at several along the way.

****

Riding in the carriage, Jowan looked idly out of the window studying the passing countryside with even less enthusiasm. After the hundredth dairy cow, the continual split wooden palings and tired stiles, and scattered hedging and clumps of green shrubbery, the Orlesian countryside was beginning to grow somewhat disenchanting.

After Jowan had transported Mabel and Athalwolf back to his cave, he had executed the rite of taking their forms. Josephine had fearfully watched on as he performed through hours of drivelous chanting, their life force slowly draining as the Orlesian siblings desperately screamed out for help in their iron cages. Hand in hand, the pair eventually grew weak and died, their eyes finally fluttering shut as Jowan and Josephine morphed into their figures, like two hideous butterflies emerging from the chrysalis of death.

Josephine took the possession of Mabel’s body rather well, giggling in delight as she gazed in admiration at her new form before the enchanted mirror of the cave. The Antivan had come a long way from the quivering specimen lying on the floor of his hideout in previous days. Perhaps that was the way of the world? When faced with one’s own ruin, perhaps the soul changed into a ravenous creature determined to survive under any circumstance or any means possible. Jowan knew that the harsh realities of life could harden and change the most rigid of characters. Anything could be broken, reshaped and remoulded into another form. Whether Josephine had been that twisted creature of malice before, she was indeed now a spectacular spirit of malignance that danced to his tune of darkness.

Beside him, Josephine could not stop fidgeting, looking at her arms and legs in amazement and running her hands over them in wonder.

‘Will you stop that?’ snapped Jowan ‘You’ve been obsessing over yourself for over a week now.’

Josephine grinned, continuing to examine herself ‘I can’t help it. My body and skin colour, everything is so different. It is so strange. Even my teeth feel different!’

‘Yes, well, we all have our own troubles.’ muttered Jowan, running his hands disapprovingly through his mop of black curls that adorned his head ‘Get used to it. I don’t want you acting like this when we are at Skyhold.’

‘My waist is so small.’ she confessed in wicked delight ‘Did you know I can fit into a twenty-two inch corset?’

‘Remarkable.’ muttered Jowan.

‘Mabel had all these gorgeous Orlesian clothing.’ informed Josephine in excitemeny ‘Lace. Silk. White linen. She always was disgustingly rich. Oh but I doubt even Empress Celene has a wardrobe to compete with Mabel’s. Her dresses are pieces of art. Like this wonderful dress I am wearing now! The feel of royal lace and beaded freshwater pearls against my skin is more exquisite than I could have ever anticipated.’

Drawing his fingers to his eyes, Jowan squinted in pain. A sudden recollection of more memories, they flooded into his head even now. An unfortunate but necessary side effect of possessing another’s body, Jowan had now taken on every memory ever collected by the late Athalwolf Guildersleeve. His life story, his childhood, companions, hopes, wishes, fears...desires. Everything. However the most recent recollections to fill his mind had become more than a little disturbing even for the mage to contend with.

Casting his eyes to Josephine, he watched her curiously as she continued to examine herself in delight.

‘How are you coping with Mabel’s memories?’ he asked precariously.

Josephine shrugged ‘She had many friends, and happy memories. What a life to live...well, to have lived.’.

Dreamily, she cast her gaze outside to the fields, her mind a million miles away.

‘You haven’t remembered anything...vexing?’ he asked carefully, running his eyes more closely over his companion.

Josephine grinned wickedly, turning back to Jowan. ‘You mean about Mabel and Wolf?’. She flipped her hand carelessly in the air ‘It is not so uncommon in some of the older and nobler families for such things to arise.’

‘Did you know they were lovers all along?’ Jowan asked in surprise.

‘They were extremely close, perhaps I had my suspicions?’ shrugged Josephine ‘What does it matter?’

‘You were to help me choose someone for the position of ambassador that would not draw attention to herself.’ he scorned 'I don't want any scandals bringing attention to us on our arrival.'

‘No one knows.’ dismissed Josephine ‘Besides you must admit we couldn’t have chosen anyone better. Look at us!’

‘It could cause unwanted attention.’ he replied dryly ‘That is the last thing we want.’

‘Their sordid little affair is in the past, as are their lives.’ reassured Josephine ‘We have a new start. Nothing will draw attention to that now.’

Jowan turned back to the window. He hated the feelings that were creeping into his head, of Mabel’s naked skin pressed beneath his hands and her sweet lips like pillows against his hungry mouth. The demons had taught him to distance one’s thoughts from the host and to separate them emotionally, so why was Jowan feeling so uneasily drawn to those memories? Why was he craving Mabel’s touch, as if he were Wolf himself?

Shaking his head, the mage closed his eyes. ‘Not long now before Skyhold,’ he muttered ‘and then the tiresome charade finally begins.’

****

Over the next few days, Cullen refused to visit my chambers and instead returned to his loft to retire for the night. The longer the time went by, the more desperate I admit I became. That horrible knot growing in my stomach, a feeling of knowing I could lose him over the foolishness of a kiss.

Of course he was right to feel betrayed. Michel and I had kept our feelings from him. In all his brutal honesty I had not returned the common courtesy. I had disrespected the man I professed to love, and it was filling me with guilt. Of course, like a wicked master, Cullen was punishing me with the one thing he knew would hurt me the most. His silence.

I wasn’t prepared to lose this battle to Cullen’s reticence, and with a surprising amount of courage at mid-morning I made my way up the battlements and barged into his study without a knock or salutation along the way. Cullen looked up in surprise as I stood there in the doorway, wild eyed and prepared for battle.

‘You can’t keep on ignoring me like this!’ I announced, my unbridled enthusiasm suddenly falling into bouts of ineloquence as Cullen looked sternly at me ‘We...uh...we need to talk about this….if you’re not too busy….’

Resuming what he was doing before I barged in, Cullen returned to reading the letter in his hand.

‘Why talk now?’ asked Cullen ‘You had plenty of opportunities to talk about this with me? I recall you having the audacity to accuse me of being involved with Leliana, while you were the real scarlet deceiver all along. Ironic, is it not?’

Throwing my eyes away from his in embarrassment, I pressed my nails into the wooden frame of a nearby chair, shamefully fidgeting my way through his accusations.

‘Im sorry for that.’ I murmured.

‘I saw the way you both acted around each other.’ observed Cullen ‘I saw the looks, and the disgraceful flush in your cheeks when Michel looks at you. You flaunted your relationship with Michel in my face time and time again, while denying anything was going on. You made me feel like the unreasonable one. Only now I find out my suspicions were warranted.’

‘There is no relationship between Michel and I. I returned to Kirkwall and your damn passive aggressive disposition greeted me. I didn’t know what to think. You weren’t talking to me, so-’

‘So you thought that was an invitation to indulge in Michel de Chevin?’ continued Cullen coldly ‘Is our bond that fickle that you could just as easily be with him than with me? Depending on what temperament Im in?’

‘No!’ I protested ‘But don't pretend you weren't being unfriendly, cold and completely aloof when I returned. Of course I thought you and I were over at that point.'

‘I do not share.’ he whispered dangerously ‘I told you that before. Yet you let him indulge.’

‘Indulge? It was one kiss for crying out loud! I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. Honestly, if that kiss meant anything we could have taken it further but we didn’t.’

‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ chortled Cullen. With a sad look, he drew his attention to me ‘You have made a mockery of our love with that damn Orlesian fool. I need time to process all this.’

Feeling utterly dismal at the sadness in Cullen's eyes, I drew closer to the man. ‘I’m so sorry Cullen. Let us process this together. Don’t push me away.’

Shaking his head, Cullen presented his hand towards the door ‘I have work to do. You and I, and all this nonsense, will have to wait. There is an Inquisition to be run, and you are not getting in the way of that anymore.’

Ushering me out of his study, his large frame moving forward as I stumbled backwards, Cullen closed the door sharply. Looking around despondently, I clutched my arm defensively, rubbing it as if to console myself. Left alone on the battlements, I desperately wondered to myself in my growing wake of unease…was that Cullen’s way of finally letting me go once and for all?

****

Late that afternoon the council gathered in the courtyard at Skyhold as a magnificent black stagecoach rolled in through its gates drawn by four white horses and two opulently dressed coachmen. As the carriage drew to a halt, the coachmen jumped down and assembled a delicate set of stairs to the door of the vehicle, before opening the door.

The first to descend from the depths of the stagecoach was a remarkably graceful gentleman-like character, adorned in a long black velvet trimmed tailcoat, silk puff tie, black brushed cotton trousers and an elegant black top hat. He was tall and very handsome, with pale white skin that had evidently not experienced the harsh seasons that the working class were forced to endure. His hair was thick and black, rich with gorgeous silken curls, and he presented a pair of striking black eyes encased in dark black lashes. Indeed the lord’s features were elegantly refined, like that of many of the Orlesian nobility, and his slender frame held himself tall with perfect posture. The man possessed a wistful and sombre look in his eyes, a sadness perhaps inflicted many years prior that had now grown into his features. Yet the despondency suited him rather well, as if he was destined to be that mournful and pensive lord, a dark creature of the night coming to meet us that afternoon in his splendour. I couldn’t recall a more dashing, if not melancholic, lord in my life. It was a strangely alluring combination.

‘Lord Guildersleeve,’ greeted Leliana with a wide smile, her voice sounding more Orlesian than usual. ‘it is wonderful to see that you have arrived so soon, and without trouble I hope?’

Surprising the party before him, the serious man suddenly smiled broadly, looking across to us all with great interest.

‘We had a wonderful journey,’ he remarked pleasantly ‘I thank you!’. He cast his black eyes across the bleak keep, adding with enthusiasm ‘What a remarkable stronghold you have here! ’

Turning his attention back to the carriage, the lord helped a woman step down onto the stone courtyard. With brilliant emerald eyes, long black hair and pale white skin like her brothers, the lady was every bit as refined and perfect as her companion. She was dressed in a magnificent white dress, a pale bone lace corset cinched tight over her waist, following into a hooped skirt below that was covered by mountains upon mountains of silken fabric. Undoubtedly it was an Orlesian custom to dress in the most difficult of shades to keep clean, and this white dress was impeccably crisp and unforgiving. An ostentatious statement if ever I saw one, most likely to inform us that we were before a ridiculously wealthy woman who could afford the luxury of wearing white.

The pair stood out like stunning jewels amongst the dreary surroundings of the keep, and we in turn looked on in intrigue, although I confess I was more disinterested than the rest of my party. Yes they were rich and Orlesian, but surely it took more than that to secure one’s respect? Turning my eyes to the rest of my party, who all looked bedazzled, my heart dropped. The answer was apparently no.

Facing Leliana, the lord bowed politely before extending his hand with a warm smile. ‘We have not been formally introduced. I am Lord Athalwolf Guildersleeve.’

Leliana presented her hand to the lord, and he pressed his lips against hers before looking up with a warm smile. Turning, he extended his hand to his companion ‘This is my sister, Lady Mabel Guildersleeve.’

Smiling towards Leliana, Mabel nodded her head ‘We have met before, is that not so?’

‘At Lady Loevette’s soiree a few years back.’ replied Leliana with a grin 'How could we forget?'

‘The very one!’ remarked Mabel cheerily ‘Never have I been fed so many quail eggs in all my life!’

Leliana laughed, an echo of her courtesan tendencies revealing itself for the pleasure of us all to spectate. ‘It was hideous, was it not?’ she replied enthusiastically ‘To serve quail eggs and roasted quail on a plate of quail feathers. I could not look at a quail the same afterwards.’

‘I ordered my maidservant to throw out all my quail feather bonnets when we returned home that very night!’ replied Mabel with a roll of her eyes ‘I vowed never to go near the bird ever again and to this very day I fear the call of one whenever we venture near the woods.’

Leliana laughed airily in delight, before realising formalities were being ignored and introductions were needed to be made. Turning her hand to each of us, the spymaster introduced the members of the war council.

Mabel met each of the party with a soft smile, and when it came to our introduction it was somewhat polite and stiff, almost a forced courtesy as she beheld the Inquisitor with what I couldn’t help thinking was with a bit of disdain? Of course I had my own insecure reasons to question her manner, greeting a woman that everyone seemed smitten with. Her beautiful features were flawless and her clothing impeccable. You could see she was someone who prided her appearance to the point of obsession, but as I looked over to my companions it seemed her compulsiveness had done her credit. Everyone was infatuated, including her brother who doted on her like a cherished doll. I in comparison was a flawed creation and perhaps that was all I was feeling in our introduction. Resentment.

Cullen smiled, graciously presenting Mabel with his arm. ‘If you would like I can escort you and your brother to your chambers?’ he offered in a polite manner, as if speaking to a delicate rose ‘I can show you both some of the best parts of the keep along the way?’

Frowning I cast my eyes away from the pair to focus on an old bucket nearby, examining its weather worn appearance with a great deal too much interest, trying to ignore the hurt I was feeling. To say I abhorred the kindness the Commander was bestowing upon another would have been an understatement. It was childish on his part to act like that and I didn't appreciate it one bit.

‘Why thank you, I would like that.’ smiled Mabel, interlacing one hand through Cullen’s and the other through her brother’s. ‘What a merry party we shall be, traipsing the halls of Skyhold just us three!’. Their chuckles could be heard echoing throughout the cloisters as they departed to explore the keep.

‘Aren’t they adorable?’ observed Leliana with a pleased smile ‘I believe things shall be a lot more lively now the Guildersleeves are in Skyhold!’

With a spring in her step, the spymaster turned back to the stairs of the keep ascending into the main hall, while Cassandra and I remained behind with uncertain expressions on our face.

‘Well,’ I observed with a hint of disapproval ‘they seem a spritely pair.’

‘We have a saying in Nevarra.’ informed the Seeker cyically ‘Some bees create honey, while others leave a sting.’. Frowning, she cast her dark eyes towards me ‘I am not certain which are the bees we have just greeted.’

With a raised brow Cassandra turned towards the stables, leaving me to my deliberations. I was left alone on the desolate courtyard, a chill covering my shoulders as I watched the grey clouds tumble in overhead, growing darker as the evening fell upon us all.

****

It had been many years since Jowan had had the pleasure of living in proper quarters, and the warmth of a roaring fire in a large stone fireplace and the comfort of a Ferelden four poster bed brought a content smile to his face. In a strange way he felt safer now than he had for many years, and already he was growing rather fond of it. The simple pleasure of viewing a fine tapestry on the wall, a servant to bring him supper, and a warm pelt rug on the ground under his bare feet felt wonderful after many a dank and dismal nights he had previously spent in his hut at the base of the Frostback Mountains.

Of course the mage was well accustomed to never to grow content of any situation, but the current one had proven more promising than he could have hoped for. After an audience with the Red Templars which he easily secured through the help of his demon acquaintances, Jowan was directed to the Shrine of Dumat. It was there that he was introduced to the leader of the Red Templar’s, a man named Raleigh Samson. Samson was eager to gain any information from within the Inquisition, and seemed more than willing to inform the Elder One of the mage’s part to play. Surprisingly, Jowan found Samson to be quite solicitous to his every need. Of course Jowan pitied the man, who already looked half dead encased in his red lyrium armour. He would never be so foolish as to accept such a death sentence from anyone, let alone Corypheus. However Jowan was in slight awe at how powerful Samson appeared to be with his armour. There was power out there to be had, and perhaps Samson had only obtained a small fragment but it was glorious to behold nonetheless. The man was indeed unstoppable.

A light tapping at his door distracted his thoughts and Jowan quickly retreated to the entrance, opening it to greet his sister.

‘Mabel!’ remarked Jowan festively, casting his eyes across the hallway ‘Is everything is going well?’

Stepping aside, he beckoned her in.

‘Oh yes my dear!’ replied Josephine cheerfully ‘Come, let me see your room! Mine has the most wonderful windows that look onto the-’

Jowan shut the door. ‘You can stop with that annoying banter now.’ he muttered dryly ‘Why are you here?’

‘I need your help.’ she informed. She patted her cheeks that were rather rosey and flushed. ‘Did you see how pleasant Cullen was to me when we arrived? A personal escort, and all that wonderful conversation about his time Ferelden in his younger days. I had no idea how charming he could be? His arm was so strong as he escorted us through the keep, I couldn't bare to pull my own away.’

The mage threw the Antivan a disgusted look. ‘Not this again. So I look even slightly interested in Cullen? What do you want Josephine? Get to the point, I am tired.’

Josephine blushed, drawing a few paces closer. ‘I was wondering...that is to say…is there a spell to alter the mind of another? To make them fall in love?’

‘I have more important issues to deal with than this.’ snapped Jowan ‘Stop it! This is not the reason we came here!’

‘I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.’ she replied hastily, pressing her palms together to plea with the man. ‘I have one chance with Cullen and I need him to fall for me. I didn’t want to entertain the thought before because I wanted him to want me of his own volition. But now? Now I know it has to be done this way.’

'So you would have him desire you against his own free will?' replied Jowan with a raised brow 'That is not very romantic. It is also a dangerous game to play. Why not just let see how things play out with Cullen? You said he was being amicable to you, maybe something will come of it?'

Josephine glared at him coldly ‘You want me to report to you about the Inquisition’s affairs? Then do this for me.’

‘It would be unwise to try and blackmail me Mabel.’ observed Jowan icily. Pressing himself close to her, she drew her breath as Jowan pierced into her eyes. Slowly he ran his fingers along her neck. Josephine stepped back and the mage tightened his grip around her throat suddenly, securing her place. ‘I wouldn’t enjoy it sister but I could take your form if you proved to be less than useful.’

Taking a deep breath close to her, Jowan could smell her sweet scent and a slight shiver covered his skin as he inhaled deeply. Roughly he shoved her away, and Josephine was left gasping for air, fearfully looking at the mage whilst holding her throat.

'Please Jowan.' begged Josephine 'Of course I will help you in whatever way I can. Just please please help me with this.'

‘Fine’ he muttered ‘It is not a spell however, spells never last long enough. It is a potion.’

‘A love potion?’ replied Josephine curiously, still clutching her neck ‘Like those of the fairy tales?’

‘You cannot make someone love you.’ informed Jowan ‘Not true love, whatever that is. However you can make them obsess and lust over you, and all the rest that goes with that wonderful concept of infatuation. It is a potion that he must consume, and then it only lasts seven nights in duration. You can continue to drug him for as long as your tiresome plan pleases you, if that is your wish? If you do not his desire will quickly wane and all will be as it was once more.’

‘So all I have to do is make him drink a flask?’ she asked, somewhat surprised.

‘Do I look like some clumsy oaf of a mage that brews ale and calls it a love tonic?’ he snapped ‘No. It is potent, you only need a few drops. A bottle will last for months.’

Sighing in frustration, he threw his arm around the room ‘I am hardly equipped to do anything at the moment. I can prepare it in a few days, once all my items from Orlais have arrived. Now if that is all kindly leave.’

Ushering her out of the room, he opened the door once more with a broad smile ‘You worry too much, Mabel dearest. These lodgings are very comfortable and quite homely I assure you. Shall we dine together in a few hours? I heard someone mention we are having pigeon pie! What a delight! I wonder if the pigeons in Ferelden taste the same as the ones in Orlais?’

Josephine smiled widely ‘I have no idea, but what a splendid way to find out! I have some matters to discuss with Leliana before then. I shall see you soon dear brother!’


	23. Ir Abelas, Ma Vhenan (I Am Filled With Sorrow For Your Loss, My Heart)

After an onerous few days of repeated instructions, waning patience, multiple fights in the barracks and numerous reprimands, the new recruits from Ferelden had finally settled into their new life at Skyhold. It had been taxing work for the Commander, and he was more than a little happy to try and forget the recent days. No matter how distracting his duties were, Cullen still could not shake the anger that had consumed him from a week prior when Michel de Chevin had foolishly revealed the kiss he had shared with Ophelia. The ex-chevalier that Cullen had trusted and considered a friend had betrayed him. If there was forgiveness in Cullen’s heart it was well hidden at present, and all he could feel was bitter resentment.

Rubbing his tired amber eyes, Cullen was eager to retire to his loft bed and fall into an exhausted slumber. Pacing down the main hall at Skyhold, he turned through a side door into the large circular room where Solas spent time reading and painting murals. The elf was sitting at his table, deep in concentration as he poured over the pages of an old looking tome. His eyes darted towards the Commander and, with a small and knowing smile that he often held on his face, he nodded to Cullen in acknowledgement before returning to his studies.

Nodding in turn the Commander pressed on, opening another door that lead outside to the battlements leading towards his study. Stopping to admire the view of the mountains, the ex-templar took a moment to breathe in the cool evening air, hoping a moment of clarity would sweep over the ranges and finally free him of the weight hanging heavy on his shoulders.

_Why Michel? Of all people, why did Ophelia like him?_

Not that the betrayal would have stung any less had it been any other man. Yet there was something about being in the close proximity of Michel and Ophelia for so long and being kept in the dark from their secret that felt all the more treacherous.

'After everything that has happened, who am I to be so judgmental?' Cullen muttered darkly 'I'm far from perfect.'

Resting against the stone parapet, Cullen looked out across the barren horizon as the black raven feathers from his gorget stirred wildly in the breeze, their emerald sheen catching the last rays of sunlight. The truth was that he loved Ophelia, of course he still did. A kiss with Michel de Chevin didn’t change the passion he felt for the mage. They had grown close over the last few months, more emotionally intimate, and it finally seemed like there was some hope of moving on. Moving on from his callous treatment of her on the Imperial Highway. The ex-templar was ashamed of his actions towards the mage, but thank the Maker, she had forgiven him. Perhaps it was his turn to forgive her? With a hardened stare, he gritted his teeth.

No, it wasn’t as simple as that.

Cullen frowned, kicking the stones that had come loose from the wall with his black boot. The kiss had made him question the strength of the bond between himself and Ophelia. Shamefully he knew that he should not be doubting Ophelia's loyalty, but he could not help it. He was suitably possessive of her, and he craved every part of her for himself. Ophelia enjoyed his urges and he himself was consumed by hers. She intoxicated him. The drawn out suspense of bending her to his will which she in turned longed for him to do. The kindness she bestowed upon him with such affection. Her whimsical manner, and that unconventional borderline blasé view of the world that made her so different from anyone else that he had ever met. He wanted her, and only her. If he could not have her entirely, if Michel secured a piece of her heart, how could he not question their own bond time and time again until he drove him insane?

'Because some bonds are stronger than others, and always will be.' he answered to himself.

The ex-templar drew a deep breath as the fresh breeze blew against his face, a small smile curled on his lips as his eyes closed calmly. That moment of clarity at last. Cullen had to start accepting responsibility for his actions. His part to play in all of this. Of all the terrible moments he had put her through this kiss was not going to be something he would make her suffer in addition. Yes he was hurt but he needed to stop hurting her. He loved Ophelia and she loved him. The anger in Cullen was subsiding even now, washing away like a tide drawing back to sea, and he knew nothing had changed between them both.

Cullen loved Ophelia, and without even realising it, he had already forgiven her.

‘I might need to stop by the gardens to steal some flowers.’ muttered Cullen to himself, a small smirk on his lips as he contemplated the look on Ophelia’s face when she found him offering her a posy at her chambers. Something he recalled he had vowed he would never do in Denerim, once upon a time…

‘Cullen!’ called out a cheerful voice nearby.

Turning his head, Cullen spotted Mabel Guildersleeve skipping down the stairs from his study. Wearing a light blue cotton dress that breezily blew in the windy location they found themselves in, she drew towards the Commander as he turned his attention towards her.

‘Mistress Guildersleeve,’ greeted the Commander civilly ‘were you looking for me?’

‘I was!’ she smiled ‘And please, it's just Mabel. I wanted to thank you actually. Your advice about visiting the apple orchards near Lake Calenhad was wonderful. Wolf and I had the most treasured day, well that was until he decided to climb an apple tree and half a dozen apples fell onto his head!’

Cullen chuckled as Mabel revealed a light-hearted laugh of her own.

‘Anyway,’ she continued ‘I wanted to thank you for such a hospitable welcome. Wolf and I feel so accepted as a part of the Inquisition already.’. Grinning she handed over a small box concealed behind her back ‘It’s nothing exciting I assure you, but between you and me they are the finest chocolates you’ll find in all of Thedas. A wonderful Orlesian chocolatier in Lapin makes these.’

The Commander took the box hesitantly with a look of surprise before throwing an appreciative smile. ‘This is not necessary, but thank you. I'm glad you both are settling in well.’

‘Oh like I said, it’s nothing!’ dismissed Mabel with a wave of her hand ‘Wolf adores the dark ones and he eats far too many for his own good! Too many sweets will ruin one’s constitution, I keep on telling him and he keeps on ignoring me! Oh but don’t listen to my ramblings, please enjoy them! Orlesian chocolate is exquisite! Anyway I must go! Good evening Commander, and thank you again!’

With a skip in her step, she dashed away into the keep.

Cullen shook his head with a chuckled, inspecting the box in his hand as he set off back to his quarters. Unaccustomed to sweets he was somewhat curious to enjoy an unexpected dessert before retiring for an early night. He needed to wake extra early in the morning for he was eager to retrieve some nice smelling wild flowers and a cup of tea before Ophelia had arisen from her slumber.

****

In his new duties at Skyhold, Jowan had the displeasure of finding himself appointed to work in the recently built Tower of Magi in Skyhold. For such a grand sounding place, he was more than a little disappointed to discover it resided, or perhaps had been shoved, in the furthest corner of the keep, and required him to walk endlessly across the windy battlements to access it. The actual tower itself, if indeed it could enjoy the luxury of being called thus, was composed of three crowded rooms layered on top of each other in a higgledy-piggledy manner. A less impressive tower he was yet to see, and something seemed even more insulting at the prospect of working in such a pitiable atmosphere. Alone and aloft in the clouds of the Frostback Mountains was where he had been shoved.

Given the tiresome job of sorting through the bulk of stock standard magical apparatus commonly riddled through the mages circles, Jowan wearily worked through his first week for the Inquisition with more than a little bitterness. There were boxes of clear glass bottles and bundles of scrolls to sort, broken taper candles and dusty quills to mend, and page upon page of worthless items to record in inventory. In addition, leaking solvents and other aged poultices had spilled onto the few books he was supposed to be placing on a crooked bookshelf that was to be referred to as the mages library.

An apprentice passed by Jowan and secured a fresh bunch of elfroot to a metal hanging frame overhead. With displeased eyes Jowan clicked his fingers sharply at the young man.

‘Whoever told you it was acceptable to store elfroot next to blood lotus was clearly a muttonhead!’ he snapped.

‘I’m-I’m sorry.’ stammered the man, looking absolutely downtrodden.

Jowan brought his hand up to his temple, regretting his outburst instantly. This wasn’t the way he wanted to treat his fellow mages, barking orders at them like some abhorrent and scrutinising templar of the Chantry.

‘No, I am sorry.’ Jowan apologised, shaking his head ‘You are a mage, not some fool of a templar. Forgive me. If you would mind in future to keep elfroot away from blood lotus that would be most appreciated.’

The apprentice smiled and nodded ‘Of course, Lord Guildersleeve.’

‘Which circle did you fare from?’ asked Jowan curiously.

The apprentice’s face grew dark at the question and Jowan nodded in silent understanding. ‘For what it’s worth my time in the circle wasn’t all that splendid either.’

The apprentice threw a small smile before turning to leave. He hesitated at the door before turning around once more. ‘Best thing that happened to me, you know? The Inquisition letting us mages join as free citizens, away from the templars. Didn’t ever dream of a day I would be working as a free man let alone a free mage, but our Inquisitor made it happen. Some say she’s guided by the Maker, but I don’t think that’s right. The Chantry makes sure we all know how much the Maker hates us mages. But the Inquisitor? She choose to support the mages over the templars, and in my book that’s as miraculous an act as they come. She’s our saviour in a way? Gotta be some comfort knowing you have that on your side?’

Jowan watched the mage depart through the door, a pensive look on his face as he pondered the words of the apprentice. However the few short moments of reflection were interrupted yet again as another man appeared at the door, a wide brimmed hat adorning his head as he curiously examined Jowan through the scattered blond hair spilling across his eyes. It was as if he were studying an intriguing specimen that had been recently caught in a jar.

‘It’s strange,’ observed Cole softly ‘you are who you are and yet you are not? It’s like looking at two faces but you have only one head, and I can’t seem to make out either face because its a blur to me. Now that I am more human than I was, everything is more blurry.’

The mage caught his breath as his black eyes continued to çast widely at Cole, refusing to reveal the fear he was feeling upon hearing that chilling comment. Who and what was this person before him, and why was he picking up on Jowan’s concealed identity?

‘Are you wearing a mask?’ asked Cole curiously, taking a few steps closer ‘For it looks like skin on your face, but perhaps they make masks like that in Orlais? I know Orlesians like their masks very much.’

Jowan beamed a brilliant fake smile. ‘Indeed we do! In fact while I was working in the royal court at Halamshiral I wore a golden mask each and every day. It was dreadfully heavy and even covered my nose!’

Cole revealed a small smile. ‘How did you sneeze?’ he asked curiously.

‘With great difficulty!’ chuckled Jowan, before extending his hand ‘We have not formally met. I am Athalwolf Guildersleeve.’

Cole extended his hand rather oddly, presenting his limb hesitantly and half expecting the man to take it entirely off him. ‘I am Cole. I help people. I help the Inquisition. Sometimes at the same time.’

‘Well that is what I hope to do also.’ smiled Jowan, feeling more and more unnerved by the person before him. He needed to find everything about Cole and he needed to find out now.

‘They make cinnamon bread at the beginning of the week. You can get some from Madame Ruthie for breakfast.’ Cole informed as his eyes gazed about the room in interest.

‘Excuse me?’ asked Jowan precariously.

‘You like cinnamon bread.’ stated Cole ‘I know you like it, with a melted pool of butter on top. You used to eat it at Redcliffe castle for mid morning tea each day.’

‘Indeed I do.’ chuckled Jowan nervously, his heart pounding in his chest. Running an uneasy hand through his curls, he smiled at Cole. ‘Can..can you read minds?’ asked Jowan apprehensively, resting his shaking hand against his desk to support his weight in the fearful revelation of the moment.

‘Not like I used to.’ murmured Cole, somewhat remorsefully ‘The Inquisitor helped me become more human. Varric is helping me also. He’s already helped me so much. I used to be able to hear everything inside people’s heads, but now just echoes. I still feel another’s pain though...it’s just different now. That is why you interest me. And your sister. You both feel strange but then, so do I.’

‘Helping you become human?’ repeated Jowan in confusion ‘Are you not indeed human?’

‘I’m not sure...that is to say once I was a spirit and then I was not.’ faltered Cole. He shook his head ‘No, I am human now. I must acknowledge what I am and not question it. Varric told me I must accept that. I feel what I feel, except to feel human is to feel…feelings. A very lot of feelings.’

‘Fascinating.’ murmured Jowan, examining the person before him in slight awe and even more apprehension.

Jowan wasn’t sure, but he wondered whether he was in fact speaking to a demon possessing a human? And if so, why would the Inquisition willingly allow such a thing to take up residence in their keep?

‘Well,’ shrugged Jowan ‘you most likely are picking up the courtly mask of intrigue my sister Mabel and I were accustomed in donning in Orlais. It is said you must be two people in the Orlesian court. Your mask is the one you present to the world, and your true self is the one you must always try to hide.’. Jowan laughed merrily ‘It makes one sound frightfully secretive and paranoid, does it not?’

‘If everyone pretends to be who they are not, how does anyone know who they truly are?’ asked Cole with a confused frown.

‘I confess that is a question better suited for the philosophers than I!’ replied Jowan ‘You must think we Orlesians tend to over-complicate things, and perhaps you would be right? That is why Mabel and I are so pleased to have arrived here in Skyhold. Less drama, less intrigue.’

Cole nodded sagely ‘You would think that but there is always more going on than meets the eye.’

With an airy smile, Cole turned and wandered out the door without another word, unaware of Jowan still standing beside his desk, a concealed dagger clutched hard in his shaking hand.

****

The Antivan paced her room obsessively, tapping her fingers against the silver hand mirror as she hummed a tune nervously to herself. The stress of recent events had made her complexion a little more haggard of late, and she was concerned Cullen would notice the dark skin under her eyes. Josephine pursed her lips in disapproval as she withdrew the looking glass from her site, and began pacing again, only pausing every now and then to look to the door, hoping Jowan would arrive soon.

A sharp knock finally sounded and Josephine breathed out in relief, wrenching the door open and pulling in the expected recipient. Jowan would have been surprised at the frantic greeting of his companion, but he was in an even more nervous and irate state than Josephine herself.

Desperately fumbling at the lock, the mage turned the key that rested within the hole and drew back to face his companion.

‘You need to tell me who Cole is and why he can read people’s minds?’ Jowan demanded. With a long slender finger, he pointed it angrily at Josephine. ‘And you can tell me why in the blazes you never told me there is someone like him at Skyhold? Someone that could see who we really are!?’

Josephine gasped, drawing her hands to her mouth in horror. ‘Impossible. What did Cole say? Did he see that you were not Athalwolf?’

‘No,’ remarked Jowan ‘but he sensed I was wearing a mask. That is what he said. You damn wretched fool! How could you not tell me you had a demon possessing a human at Skyhold?!!’

‘No, no, no Cole cannot read minds like he used to.’ ressured Josephine fearfully ‘He became human and lost the ability. I know this for a fact. He used to be able to read thoughts and alter people’s memory but he lost it all when he became human.’

‘What are you blabbering on about?!’ hissed Jowan ‘You can’t become human if you are not.’

‘No Solas and the Inquisitor tried to explain this to Leliana and I in great lengths. Cole is very unique. He is a spirit. A being trapped between the fade and the realm, and he inhabited the body of a mage named Cole as he died.’

‘So he is a demon,’ scoffed Jowan 'And a mage to boot!'

‘No hes a spirit, not a demon.’ corrected Josephine adamantly ‘And hes not a mage, that is to say he has taken the body of a mage but he does not practice as a mage. In fact he's a rogue and fights with knives. Cole helps people in pain. Honestly I have spoken to him enough times after his transition to know he cannot do the things he used to do. He used to be able to know what I was thinking and tell it to my face. Now he is different. He cannot read our thoughts, I assure you.’

‘Whatever that thing is, he knows we are different.’ scorned Jowan ‘I told him it was just because we were Orlesian but unless he is a complete idiot that will not satisfy his curiosity.’

‘Did he believe you?’ asked Josephine.

‘He seemed to accept my reasoning. Maybe,’ replied Jowan ‘But how am I to know he won’t cause more trouble? Maybe he’ll want to try and remove our masks?’. Gripping his fists in anger, he paced the room as he pondered on the situation with growing unease. ‘You should have told me. Are you that doltish to not realise you risk everything by not telling me everything?’

‘I will find a way to send him away from Skyhold on a mission. Something only he can aid us with.’ declared Josephine ‘It will be fine. You said it yourself, he only sensed something and was confused and you set him straight. It will be all right.’

She placed her hand reassuringly on Jowan’s arm and subconsciously he reached his palm over her hand, softly stroking his fingers fondly across hers in an affectionate manner. They both looked down in surprise, and Jowan snatched his hand away suddenly, retreating to the window.

‘So why are you so troubled then?’ he asked quickly, trying to distract both of them from what had just happened.

Josephine returned to her nervous pacing. ‘The potion is not working. I gave Cullen the tainted chocolates a day ago and I walked by his study this morning and saw the box was empty. So he has eaten them, but then later today he passed me in the main hall and just nodded. And then-’

‘Must you bore me with every annoying detail about that damn templar!’ interrupted Jowan agitatedly ‘It will work, you just need to give it time.’

‘I gave you a pint of my blood!’ she cried out, still horrified by the fact ‘How can a potion need that much blood and not work already?’

Jowan waved his hand in dismissal. ‘You are not an alchemist and I haven’t the patience or interest to explain to you the fundamentals of blood magic. The potion Cullen has consumed is infused with your very life essence, and it will consume him quickly. It begins to corrupt his mind the moment he ingests the concoction.’

‘It has been a day already.’ replied Josephine impatiently.

‘Then it will take two, or more.’ hissed Jowan ‘Now no more questions about it lest I give you a chocolate of my own and make you quiet for good.’

Turning to the door, he threw her a cold glare. ‘Deal with Cole or I shall be forced to.’

Josephine frowned as the door slammed. Turning her attention, she looked in the mirror once more to gaze upon her reflection. Cole may be a problem for them but it wasn't her main concern. The only thing that really concerned her was the potion she had given Cullen and how long it would take to alter his mind.

****

Gasping for breath, his amber eyes flashed opened and looked fearfully around the loft. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck and bare chest as he arose from his bed. Trembling furiously the Commander withdrew to the window and inhaled the cold night air deeply, desperate to forget his dream.

For days he couldn’t stop thinking about Ophelia and Michel, entwined in each other’s embrace. It had plagued him and haunted him until he was sick in his stomach and it burned like a pit of regret and remorse, the betrayal of their lust stinging him like a blade. But he recalled a faint memory on the battlements a few days prior. He had resolved his inner turmoil and he was not angry. He was going to forgive Ophelia. However something else had consumed and clouded his mind that night, and he awoke the next morning feel dazed and confused, unwilling to see Ophelia and give her flowers. Or not wanting to?

That creeping feeling of restlessness had grown stronger now as he lay awake for the second night, feeling more disturbed than ever before.

The dreams. Or were they nightmares? His dreams dominated him and Cullen didn’t know how much more he could endure. At first it was a whisper, a mere echo of a stirring. It bothered him but he could ignore it. He could not dismiss it. Of her long dark hair and porcelain white skin, and those eyes. Those green emerald eyes. The hint of desire was growing and growing, and before he knew it he wanted her. He wanted Mabel Guildersleeve. Had it been days or only hours that these thoughts had embedded in his mind? Cullen could not say, and to his growing horror he could not remember. All he knew was that he wanted to hold Mabel down and ravish her, to tear her expensive Orlesian garb aside and thrust his member deep inside her. Pure lust in its untameable pull, urging him to take her and devour her.

Like the beating of a heart sounding the rhythm of a waltz, going one two three, one two three, he was caught in a dance he could not escape. It was the waltz of terror, beckoning him to turn and turn about that room until he was exhausted and screaming at the top of his lungs, begging to stop. Stop! Please just stop. He was screaming out for release but no one would hear him as the room turned faster and faster, his eyes spinning as his reality transformed into a spiralling vortex of pandemonium.

Shaking his head, the Commander drew his attention back to the window, taking deep breaths of the cold night air.

What of Ophelia?

Why had everything changed? Cullen did not feel the same towards the mage any longer. That burning desire was now foggy, as if he was lost on a lake surrounded by mist. Sometimes he could feel himself yearn for her, but mostly she was devoid of his thoughts. All Cullen could think of...all he wanted now...was Mabel Guildersleeve.

‘No!’ he cried out, as if pleading with his mind.

There was no rhyme or reason for his obsession, or why it was plaguing him without a moment’s rest. Where had this savage hunger sprung from and why was he so ravenous to feed? How could he escape the torment when it refused to let him rest? Why was there a heaviness in his stomach as he thought upon his former days with Ophelia? Why could he not find her in his dreams any more? Why was Mabel there instead?

Clutching his head in his hands, the ex-templar fell forward against the window, his sandy waves of hair spilling across his wet brow. Of all the twisted creatures in his tormented mind, this one was the most hideous he had encountered. He never knew it had slumbered until now, only to wake him on this night of nights. 

Dragging himself back onto his bed, his naked body collapsed into an exhausted heap. A final moment of consciousness now departed as he lay oblivious to the torment that slowly grew in his mind, his eyes twitching as the nightmares lulled him into the darkness.

A torment that had begun from a simple box now sitting empty on his desk. A box once full of chocolates, now consumed to Cullen’s unknown and everlasting regret.

****

It is a terrible truth to acknowledge to another yet even worse to one’s self, especially when you are your own worst critic, but I had begun to keep a close and stalkerish eye on Cullen. In hindsight it was an act I would come to rue, however I appointed one of the Inquisition personal assistants to keep watch on the Commander, with orders to inform me of anything out of the ordinary. Since the Commander only worked in his study and trained in the courtyard, I knew it was not likely there would be anything sinister to report, but if there was I wanted to know about it. I couldn’t shake the jealousy I had felt between Cullen and Mabel at their first introduction and that, I confess, was the source of my distrust.

Of course jealousy is a tiring companion, and I grew weary of the incessant whisperings of doubt that it threw into my head as the days drew on and Cullen continued to avoid me. I was all together ready to admit defeat and apologise dearly to my assistant for wasting their time with my paranoia when out of the blue, on the fourth day of their watchfulness, my suspicions proved to be not so unreasonable.

It was early afternoon and the sun was spilling across the horizon and filtering through the stained glass windows of the main hall, promising a spectacular sunset in an hour or two. Slouched over a table, Varric and I sat across from each other looking at our cards with more than a little displeasure as we played a few hands of Wicked Grace.

‘I can’t even bluff any more,’ I groaned ‘the last six hands have been the worst cards anyone could have been dealt in the history of the game. You’re rigging this, aren’t you?’

‘If I was my cards would be better than this.’ Varric sighed, throwing his hand on the table ‘Even Curly could beat me with these cards. And that's sayin' something.’

Shoving my cards back into the deck, I began to shuffle. ‘We need to go back to playing that other game, you know the one that those dwarven noble hunters play?’

‘Diamondback?’ Varric replied, shaking his head ‘Now do I look like the kind of dwarf that would play that kind of rubbish?'

Raising my eyebrow, he chuckled in response.

‘Okay,’ he admitted 'but ‘I’m terrible at the game. Are you happy? Maybe we should go start playing Samesies Snap Snap?’

‘The children in Kirkwall beat me at that game more times than I care to admit.’ I replied cynically.

‘It’s a game of chance and reflexes,’ teased Varric ‘of course the clumsy mage is going to lose. Yep we’re playing that one.’

Feeling troubled at the rather apt observation of my brutally honest companion, my attention was drawn to the serving girl who had been acting as part time spy for my own benefit. She ran up towards me, throwing a shifty glance at Varric before leaning down to my ear.

‘Inquisitor, he has just left his chambers to take a walk with Mabel Guildersleeve,’ she informed hastily ‘I saw them heading on foot out the gates of Skyhold.’

‘When?’ I asked quickly, glaring at Varric who was grinning at me in delight as he realised what I had been up to.

‘Just now, they left just now.’ she informed with an assured nod.

Standing up hastily, four concealed cards fell unceremoniously from my lap onto the floor. ‘I have to go.’ I announced, watching as Varric laughed heartily at the evidence of my cheating. ‘Not a word on this.’ I added with a frown.

‘About you cheating in cards, or spying on Curly?’ asked an amused Varric, crossing his arms smugly.

‘Both.’ I replied hastily and departed quickly from the hall, eager to see where the pair were going and, by the Maker, what they were up to.

****

Outside the entrance of Skyhold there was a quaint little stone path that curled around to the left side of Gherlen’s Pass and led to a gathering of old oak tree. It was a wild forest full of twisted limb, bracken and thicket. It was said that the fairies dwelled there, and whether true or not there were many a ring of red and white spotted mushrooms and soft green moss to be found scattered along the forest floor. Indeed it was a pretty place to escape the hustle of the keep, and an even better place for privacy if one cared for it. It was there that the guards posted at the gates of Skyhold saw Commander Cullen walking with Mabel Guildersleeve that afternoon.

Arm in arm, as the Orlesians are fond of doing, the pair walked at a slow and content pace across the bridge of Skyhold and towards the path that led to the woods, a small and content smile on both their faces as they took in the pleasant autumn hours before evening.

‘Thank you for suggesting a walk to clear my mind.’ acknowledged Cullen ‘I haven’t been quite myself as of late. Im sure it is because of all the new additions to Skyhold.’

Josephine turned her head to Cullen in slight concern. ‘I hope Wolf and I are not causing you too much stress?’ 

‘Oh no I didn't mean you, Mabel.’ reassured Cullen in a gentle voice, throwing her a soft smile ‘I meant the recruits. You have been nothing but agreeable.’

Josephine grinned to herself, more than a little thrilled at Cullen’s growing fondness towards her. His touch was meaningful, and his manner attentive. Never had Cullen treated her this way and she was growing more and more excited now that Jowan’s potion seemed to be working. Finally. Her heart never came close to feeling a pang of guilt about deceiving the Commander. After his heavy handed treatment of her in Jowan's hut she knew Cullen deserved everything that he got. And if it happened to be poison against his will, then so be it.

‘I forgot to ask, did you like the chocolates?’

Cullen rubbed his neck bashfully ‘Too much. I'm ashamed to say I ate the entire box in one sitting.’

‘Perfect,’ smiled Josephine ‘why not indulge yourself when you can?’

Drawing a deep breath, Cullen pulled Josephine by the arm further into the forest. Meandering their way between the old trees, the pair took in the beautiful surroundings. Every now and then her dress would get snagged on a branch and the Commander would graciously bend down and release her. After a few more twists and turns, they came upon a small clearing where the sun filtered in softly onto a large overturned tree trunk, nestled amongst the long green grass.

‘I had hoped for some privacy with you.’ confessed Cullen ‘Skyhold is rather loud and busy to ever obtain that.’

Drawing a shaky breath the ex-templar cast his eyes around the trees before they wandered back to Josephine and her green silken dress, down to the milky white of her breast bulging from the tight corset.

Catching his wandering eyes, she grinned and moved closer to the ex-templar.

‘This is a beautiful place.’ she observed, looking deeply into his eyes.

Cullen ran his finger along her cheek. ‘You are beautiful.’ 

Josephine’s heart started pounding and she could hardly stop herself from laughing out in utter delight as Cullen’s hands suddenly drew to her waist, pulling her close.

‘I like being alone with you.’ she admitted, feeling the metal of Cullen’s armour press against her soft frame ‘I was hoping you would say yes to this little interlude.’

‘Is that what this is?’ asked Cullen with a grin. He towered over her small frame, drawing his head down as she lifted her soft mouth up to his.

The pair fell into a deep kiss, their arms wrapping heatedly around each other. Hungrily the Commander ravished her mouth, moaning into her kisses as Josephine desperately embraced him back.

‘By the Maker you are so sweet.’ growled Cullen, pulling her tighter against him as he ran his hands over her waist ‘Sweeter than that chocolate I’d wager.’

‘Why Cullen,’ grinned Josephine ‘I dare say I am the sweetest of them all!’

Breathing heavily, he drew his lips to her neck. His mouth devoured her skin as his hands reached for her dress which he began to lift it up.

‘Cullen I wouldn’t want to get in the way between you and the Inquisitor?’ confessed Josephine, somewhat unconvincingly. 

'Hang her, I want you.' he replied darkly. His hands slipped under her dress and reached for her modesty. With eager strokes, she moaned into his touch.

‘I want you.'confessed Cullen By the Maker I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.’

‘I feel the same.’ whispered Josephine, embracing the touch of Cullen in utter delight. His hands were strong and knew what they wanted. Her.

With lust filled eyes, Cullen suddenly span her around, bending her over a nearby overturned tree as he pushed her chest down on the rough bark. Josephine yelped in surprise as Cullen began to roughly bunch up her skirts. She tried to move but was unable to as he forcibly held her down and undressed her against her will.

‘Cullen wait...’ began Josephine in desperation, turning her head.

‘Shhh,’ replied Cullen sternly ‘we both want this.’ Unbuckling his belt, Cullen released his member at her naked behind, lingering for a moment in pure and utter desperation as if trying to will himself to stop. His eyes were glazed in possession as he looked upon the half-naked woman.

It was not the way Josephine had imagined their first time, and Cullen’s forcefulness took her somewhat aback, but she wanted him to take her. This had to be it.

‘Take me.’ cried out Josephine, her eyes growing dark with lust ‘Do it.’

Without hesitation Cullen plunged into her and roughly drove himself in and out. All the tender words and sweet nothings had evaporated as he sated his desire. There was only an urge that needed to be satisfied again and again as she was held secure beneath his unforgiving hold, the bark of the tree digging painfully into her skin. After a dozen hard thrusts, Cullen moaned out loudly as he released himself, the log shaking as he jolted against the wood. His hunger had been satisfied.

Pulling out, Cullen turned away and ran his hands through his hair as he caught his breath, his expression dark and reserved. The man remained quiet as Josephine redressed herself once more, a small smirk on her pleased lips.

Their shameful tryst was over, the deceitful act concealed in the wilds of the woods, or so they thought, being none the wiser to a pair of devastated green eyes filled with tears watching them from afar.

****

Sitting on the battlements, I sat blankly looking out towards the cold rock of the mountainside. I felt numb. Numb to the cold wind of the evening. Numb to Corypheus. Numb to the scene that had just unfolded before my very eyes hours prior. No longer was I a person, but instead a vessel of sadness, overflowing as I wretchedly looked into the vast nothingness of the present moment. I couldn’t go back to the past, and I didn’t want to move towards the future. Not now. Not ever.

Shutting my eyes I tried to will away the images of what I had seen. The pain was suffocating and I wanted to forget. Of stumbling back to the keep in a daze, leaving Cullen and Mabel to themselves in the woods after that terrible act. I wanted to run away, but instead I ran to the only place Cullen and I ever found comfort in being. Alone on the battlements.

‘Ophelia?’ called out a worried voice ascending the steps of the battlements. Michel de Chevin frowned as he spotted me sitting silently. ‘Cole begged me to come find you immediately. He looked as if he was going to cry and that made me a little…concerned. Did he put turnips in your fire place and you got angry at him?’

The Orlesian chuckled but his smile quickly faded away as he realised I was unresponsive to his remarks.

Moving hastily to my side, he added softly ‘Whatever is the matter?’

I was filled with too much pain to comprehend what had happened, and I continued to stare out into the distance as my companion ran his eyes over me in growing concern.

'Did I ever tell you about my childhood?' I murmured, only half aware Michel was even there. 'I had a terrible childhood. My parents were not fond of me. I wasn't a bad child, in fact I was extremely well behaved and feared to do otherwise. But I was sensitive and introverted. I'm not sure why but they found reason to resent such qualities, and I was often berated and reproached for it whenever they had a chance. Such was the way of life, and I suppose I knew no other way, so I accepted their disdain.'

Michel drew up to sit beside me on the stone, remaining close as he listened on intently.

Drawing my hand to rub my neck I continued. ‘When I was ten, just before I was sent to the Ostwick Circle, I fell sick with consumption. It was awful...it reached my lungs and I was coughing up blood and the very phlegm in my throat felt like boiling water. The pain was terrible, by Andraste I hope you never feel that sort of pain. No one could cure me as I lay in the dark of my room day in, day out. My parents never visited me, perhaps concerned about their own longevity. I’m not sure why but they never came to me. Not once. They sent the maids to attend to my needs, as I lay there in the darkness, slowly growing weaker. I was just a child. Ten years old and I knew I was going to die alone, without one person in this world that would care whether I lived or died. The pain and sickness never hurt as much as that realisation passing through my head as the months progressed.’

With tears in my eyes, I looked down to my hands and placed one palm over the other, holding it tight.

‘I used to hold my hands like this and close my eyes and pretend it was someone who loved me, just holding my hand as I lay in the dark with all that pain and fear. I would pretend they loved me so much they wouldn’t pull their hand away let alone leave my side, not even for a moment. This made up person loved me so much that I knew I would never be alone, even when I drew my last breath. They would always be there, holding my hand until the very end.’

Withdrawing my trembling hands, I drew them to my tear filled eyes and inhaled a deep breath. ‘I remained in that room for nearly two seasons, and spring finally came. One day a little light fell in through the window and willed me to get up and chase it. Perhaps it was the warm weather of that particular dry spring, but my lungs improved and slowly I got better. It was a miraculous recovery, few get a second chance after the consumption takes hold. I finally gained the strength to get up and move, and I grappled my way back from the claws of death itself, all by myself. A few weeks later I was sent off to the Ostwick Circle, my parents saluting me as I left, with a passing comment that I was looking remarkably well.’

Michel placed a hand on my shoulder, a look of sadness in his eyes as he beheld me. ‘I am sorry.’ he remarked softly.

I nodded, trying to continue without crying. ‘I learnt early on that there was no one who truly cared for me in this life. No one loved me and I grew to accept that. I reached the Circle and I was such a strange child, having grown up with no affection I was somewhat odd and detached and the other mages sensed that and disliked me. The templars disliked me. The mentors disliked me. I knew I was destined to be alone and that the only person I could truly count on was myself. I lived my entire life believing I was a strange creature that could not be loved, not even by my own kin.’

Tears falling soft on my cheek, I couldn't stop them. ‘That was until I met Cullen. Cullen showed me what it felt like to be loved.’. Running my hands through my hair I added desperately ‘And for that, I loved him more dearly than anything in this world.’

The Orlesian gently reached for my hand, holding it firm in his palm. ‘What has happened?’ Michel asked gently ‘Ophelia, please tell me?’

Closing my eyes, a single tear trailed down my cheek as I shook my head. 

Michel looked at me with deep concern, his hands now holding both of mine firmly. ‘Did he hurt you?’ asked MIchel fearfully. Casting his eyes desperately across the battlements, he turned back to me in growing worry. ‘Ophelia you must tell me. What did he do to you?’

‘I saw him.’ I whispered ‘I saw him with her.’

The ex-chevalier squeezed my hands, his face full of concern. ‘What did you see?’

Bursting into tears, I began to sob.

‘No.’ murmured Michel sadly, wrapping his strong arms around my frame and pulling me into him as I cried into his chest. ‘Please do not cry.’ he whispered, anguished at my pain as he tried to comfort me.

The ex-chevalier’s blonde hair fell over me as he held me tight and secure against his armour, as if he would protect me from anything.

Safe but heartbroken, all I could do was cry, my cheek pressed hard against the cold steel metal of his cuirass.

‘Emma lath ir abelas ma vhenan. Ar lath ma.’ Michel murmured, stroking my hair tenderly, over and over again.

The ex-chevalier’s voice was so compassionate and his gentle words made me feel calm, although I confess I did not know what they meant. In his intimacy, Michel spoke the language of his people and never had I felt so drawn to the words of another. Michel just cradled me and whispered to me in elvish, lulling me into his warm embrace. My world was falling apart, but somehow I felt so secure in his arms.

Wiping the tears from my eyes with his broad hands, the ex-chevalier threw me a sad smile. ‘Please da’vhenan, do not cry for it breaks my heart.’ he observed sorrowfully ‘Whatever has happened, we can get through this. You can tell me anything.’

I shook my head, eyes shifting from his kind gaze. ‘I followed Cullen just before. I saw him there with Mabel Guildersleeve.’

‘The new ambassador?’ replied Michel in surprise, or possible confusion ‘Perhaps they were discussing council matters?’

I shook my head. ‘No you don’t understand, I saw them in the woods... Cullen…’

My stomach lurched. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Michel held me tighter, refusing to let me fall. ‘What did you see Ophelia?’ 

‘I saw Cullen with Mabel...making love to her.’ I cried out with tears in my eyes ‘In the woods, I saw it all, Michel. I saw it all!’

‘He what?!’ remarked Michel in shock, his expression suddenly growing dark. ‘I cannot believe it.’. Shaking his head in disgust, he added angrily under his breath ‘That hypocritical bastard.’

‘What’s worse is he seemed to have forced himself onto her. I...I...I cannot be here Michel. How can I cope with what I have seen? Did he do this out of spite for the kiss we shared? Was this to punish me?’

Michel held me tight as he ran his fingers across my forehead, stroking my hair softly. ‘Shhhh,’ he whispered, his deep blue eyes looking into mine ‘be calm. Hamin da’vhenan.’

Sobbing into the arms of the ex-chevalier, I couldn't stop myself if I had tried. ‘He promised me. He promised me I was the only one for him. He held me in his arms and said there was no one except me. Cullen told me I had his heart and that he loved me.’

Falling into his chest, I wept as Michel held me tight, allowing me to grieve. For all the kindness I craved, Michel had once again given it to me effortlessly and without hesitation.

‘Ophelia I am so sorry,’ he replied gently ‘your heart is breaking and so is mine.’

Sitting on the battlements together, Michel wrapped his arms tight as he held me. When all my tears had gone I drifted into an exhausted sleep, all the while being cradled by the ex-chevalier who refused to let me go, holding my hand in his the entire time.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four: In Nature We Find Love

  


_Running_. It was something I was guilty of doing too much in my life, and whenever I saw a chance I would seize upon it. Perhaps I was forced from my home in the Free Marshes to the Ostwick Circle, but I had felt like running from my home years prior to that. I ended up in a mages tower, of which ironically I soon dreamed of running from also. I definitely ran full speed from the Circle when the mages were liberated, joining a rebel group to only end up running to The Temple Of Sacred Ashes to attend the peace conference, desperately hoping for change. I ran from the Fade, the Divine herself willing me to run, and then I woke up in Haven. Before I knew it I was running for my life when Corypheus came with the Red Templars. Even at Skyhold I had tried to run out the gates, then to Kirkwall, and then back to Skyhold once more.

Unless something changed I would be forced into this cycle of flight for an eternity. I had to stop running and turn to fight.

So when I witnessed Cullen’s betrayal in the woods, instead of running I decided to stay and accept the cold reality. Not because I wanted to, but because I knew I had a responsibility to the Inquisition. Of course there were other ways to deal with the aftermath of what had happened and I decided to do the other thing I was highly experienced at.

Hiding.

Locking myself in my room I delved into my work with an insatiable and new found enthusiasm for documentation. Every trivial letter on my desk that had previously made me shake my head in reproach was now a welcomed distraction. Carefully I read over Dagna’s volumes of reports with great enthusiasm, highlighting passages that inspired me. I wrote letters to nobles in the Anderfels to secure more support. I even began writing a letter to Dryn, addressed to Corff, in the hopes it might reach my friend and perhaps I would hear back from him one of these days.

After the first day of me showing little interest in leaving my chambers, even for meals, Michel de Chevin once again came looking for me. It only took a moment for him to see what a miserable state I was in and he announced, or perhaps ordered, that he was taking me away from Skyhold for a break. Still being on forced leave himself, the ex-chevalier suggested we ride out into Ferelden for a few days. It took a bit of convincing for I flat out refused the first three times he asked, carefully explaining to Michel that I had yet to begin writing my manifesto for Skyhold, dust the bookshelves and pick the lint off my quilt. After the fourth request, and a warning from Michel that he would not take no for an answer, I reluctantly agreed. Secretly I saw it as another opportunity to hide for a while.

So the next morning the Maister of Blades and I set off, heading down Gherlen’s Pass into the heart of Ferelden.

The journey was quiet, and the icy wind and steep stony path of the ranges didn’t encourage any joviality as we descended the mountain. Suspecting my companion was already anticipating I wouldn’t have been the most entertaining of travelling partners, I noticed the ex-chevalier respected my silence with his own for most of the way. When Michel did speak it was only to point out the odd blackbird with a bright orange beak in an above tree, or a small brown fox in the bushes. It was a welcomed distraction and by the end of the journey I was well educated on the flora and fauna of the Frostback Ranges thanks to my Orlesian friend.

Our journey led into the rich plains of Ferelden, the vibrant red dirt staining the hooves of our horses, and as late afternood fell upon us Michel finally called for us to stop. We had reached a quaint blue cobblestoned tavern with a watermill attached to the side, and a brightly lit lantern post out the front. In the distance there was a small stone bridge that crossed a river that ran alongside the tavern, and although hard to see as twilight fell upon us I could hear the steady trickle of water over rock and tree limb.

Tired from our journey Michel and I obtained the keys to our rooms, said goodnight and departed for a well-earned rest after a long day of travel. My companion informed me he would be away for the most part of the next day, but asked to meet him by the old stone bridge that crossed the river an hour before sunset.

The next morning I awoke late and enjoyed the luxury of knowing no Skyhold messenger would be knocking at my door. If I strayed outside my room, there would be no fear of bumping into the scatterbrained Ambassador or the silent Commander. Despite this new found freedom, I kept to my quarters. Leisurely I enjoyed the first half of the day soaking in the warm sun in the small private courtyard attached to my room. Two pigeons sat on the wooden fence and watched me curiously, and I so in turn, as we enjoyed aimlessly watching the world go by in swirls of fluffy white clouds scattered sparsely in a glorious Ferelden blue sky.

As midday passed, the time drew closer to meet Michel. Curiosity had weighed on my mind all day, a curl on my lip wondering what the Orlesian was up to? It seemed strange to convince me to take a trip with him and then abandon me in Ferelden. Not that I was complaining, the break was welcomed and perhaps that was his intention all along. As late afternoon approached I donned the only casual outfit I owned, a black cotton sun dress that fell to the knees and with a pair of black boots and departed for the stony bridge.

The bridge was isolated when I arrived. Watching the water trickle over the pebbles, I couldn’t help but feel at ease. It was the same feeling I would get in Kirkwall from time to time, realising perhaps there was another world out there. Some hope of a normal life to be obtained, if not today, then someday. Maybe one day I too could live a simple life in Ferelden, just spending my time sitting by a river without a care in the world?

‘There you are!’ called out Michel.

Around a bend I saw the ex-chevalier approaching. With a chiselled smile on his jaw he looked pleased, if not downright mischievous, as he walked up to me. It was so strange to see the ex-chevalier out of Skyhold, let alone out of his formal attire. Yet there he was in a white cotton tunic and black trousers with black boots, and a longsword attached to his brown leather belt. Today we were just two people in Ferelden, enjoying the sunny afternoon of a warm autumn day.

‘In Val Foret there is this spectacular leafy hedge maze that is over one hundred years old,’ informed Michel pleasantly ‘and quite infamous for no one can actually find the center of it. Shall I take you there now?’

I threw a confused look towards Michel as he grinned at me.

‘You do realise we are in Ferelden?’ I informed, a suspicious curl at my lips. ‘You Orlesians and directions.’

Michel chuckled. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a white sash of material.

‘With your permission?’ he asked politely, walking up to me.

I narrowed my eyes, a grin growing wide on my face as the Orlesian raised his hands to my head and gently wrapped the material around my head twice, covering my eyes, before tying it secure.

‘Is this the part where I get robbed?’ I asked.

‘You’ve got fifty silver and a brass button in your coin pouch, I think I shall pass.’ teased Michel.

I felt Michel step behind me as his strong fingers ran over my digits, his hands holding mine, one in each.

The warmth of his breath tickled my skin as he whispered next to my ear. ‘At this hedge in Val Foret you run down the leafy paths, twisting and turning, always feeling lost and never knowing which is the right way to go. The foliage scratches your legs and arms as you continue to stumble deeper into the maze, the hedges growing thicker and narrower the further you explore. In fact the hedges are so tall now you can barely see the sunlight up above.’

I felt Michel pull at my right hand. I smiled, unable to see what the Orlesian was up to.

‘Do you go right?’ he asked mysteriously. Pulling my hand left, he added ‘Or do you go left?’

Blindfold secured tight, all I could do was laugh in the dark. ‘This is a trick question. I’m guessing there is a sharp rock to the right of me and a river on the left. Go straight.’

Michel laughed behind me. ‘Are you always this skeptical?’ 

‘Yes.’ I mused. ‘Okay have it your way. Left, I choose left.’

I could feel his arm pull me as I slowly walked, letting him lead me away. It was hard to walk confidently not seeing the way before me and I took hesitant steps before I felt Michel wrap his strong arm securely around my waist, encouraging me further. After what seemed an eternity of steps, Michel stopped.

‘We stumble through the leafy trail and the soft sweet plucking of a harp can be heard across the wind.’ he informed pleasantly ‘It is drawing closer, and beckoning us to come forth. Can you hear it?’

Silence fell over us and all I could hear the faint caw of a raven in the distance.

‘If harp is code for bird...then yes.’ I answered cynically.

Michel groaned, and I laughed.

‘Okay, okay sorry. Why yes! I can hear the… uh sweet strum of a harp.’

‘_Pluck_.’ corrected an amused Michel, leading me on further ‘Harps are plucked, not strummed.’

‘Ravens don’t like to be plucked?’ I pointed out and the ex-chevalier nudged me playfully in the ribs.

‘Come along, the hedge maze is leading us this way.’ he exclaimed in delight ‘Oh what have we here?’

I could not help but smile until it hurt. I loved the way Michel sounded so intrigued, pretending to be in Orlais for my somewhat confused amusement. 

‘What do you see?’ I asked curiously.

‘Well now before us is a large oak wooden door with a splendid golden lock.’ he remarked in awe ‘I am certain this is the way to the center of the maze. Do you have the key Ophelia?’

‘Uhhh,’ I replied uncertainly, adding with a grin ‘I must have left that back at Skyhold.’

Gently holding both my hands as he stood behind me, Michel moved my right hand into the front pocket of my dress. I laughed out loud as my hand touched a large cold metal key. The Orlesian chuckled behind me.

‘Oh thank goodness.’ he exclaimed mischievously ‘I thought we would have to go back to the keep. Will you do the honour of unlocking the door?’

Laughing, I stood there uncertainly with the key in my hand.

‘Come now, let me take this ridiculous blindfold off.’ I protested ‘For all I know I am about to insert this key into a pile of horse dung for your amusement. I know a prank when one’s coming.’

Michel laughed spiritedly behind me. ‘Oh yes that’s why I dragged you all the way to Ferelden. To trick you into putting a key into a steaming pile of manure!’

‘It’s steaming is it?’ I chortled.

‘You cannot see.’ teased Michel ‘Go on, unlock it.’

Sighing in defeat, I waved my hand in front of me with the key, and drew my breath in surprise as it touched a wooden frame.

'There's a door here!' I exclaimed in disbelief.

'Told you so.' mused the Orlesian. 

I could feel Michel grinning beside my cheek as he directed my hand down and I felt the key fall into a lock. Turning my hand, the door clicked and I heard the wooden frame creak open as we stumbled forward into what, I confess, I had no idea.

Feeling Michel’s hands at the back of my head, he gently untied the white material covering my eyes and I stood for a moment blinking in the bright light. A garden of wonderland greeted my eyes; of leafy trees of green, brown and red, and soft grass, fresh and lush, spilling into the lavender and rosemary bushes scattered across the way. Wild rose bushes scaled up the four stone walls encasing the secluded place, so high up that even climbing a tree would have prevented me looking over and out into the realm. Stunning to behold, a blanket of creamy pink and white roses covered the stone, large blooms with bright yellow stamens in their center, their sweet fragrance lingering heavily in the air.

Indeed the scent of the garden was nothing less than tantalising, with the heady scent of mossy wood, sweet roses, spiced honey, rosemary, lavender, dried fruit and a hint of pepper overwhelming my senses on every breath. It was a divine perfume in itself, and I wished I could bottle it up and keep it forever.

Large and aged maple trees grew tall, their leaves displaying a stunning array of orange, yellow and red. Their large and leafy autumn foliage spread out generously above us to provide an enchanting canopy for our respite. In the far corner of the enclosed garden was a large pond surrounded by stones, and I could see gold and red fish swimming leisurely amongst the lily pads in the crystal clear water.

'Here, come this way.' beckoned Michel.

Leading me to the center of the garden, we came to an area of soft green grass, nestled between two large pear trees holding tantalising ripe golden fruit hanging heavy on the branch. Laid out on the grass was a thick white blanket. A wicker basket sat on the blanket, heavily laden with bread, cheese, grapes and other delicious delicacies . There were two plump cushions on the blanket, and surrounding it there were several lanterns, already lit, and each with a different panel of coloured glass of red, blue, green and purple. The vessels flickered softly, eagerly awaiting the sun to set so they could come to life.

‘What in the..? This is breathtaking!’ I remarked in awe, spinning around to see a pleased Michel smiling beside me. ‘Is this what you were doing all day? How did you find this place, let alone arrange all this?’

‘I came across it when we were training the recruits in Ferelden.’ confessed Michel, looking around in appreciation. ‘One of the soldiers mentioned they came from the Inn at Tanteridge, and worked as a grounds keeper in the Charmed Riverside Garden. Well, you know me and nature...the name caught my curiosity. I inquired after the directions and I managed to pass by on the way back to Skyhold.’

Curiosity got the better of me for I couldn't comprehend the purpose of such a place. ‘What's it used for? I've never seen a garden that has been locked up?’

Michel appeared surprised that I'd never seen such a place before. ‘Why it’s for the guests at the inn to enjoy, of course! In Orlais these types of gardens are very popular. Many ladies like to wear the ornate keys to their gardens around their neck, well that was the latest style when I was last back home.'. Michel chuckled, shaking his head. 'It sounds rather bizarre when you think about it.'

'A subtle way of one showing off their wealth, I suppose?' I teased 'Admit it, you probably have several hanging off your neck as we speak?' 

The ex-chevalier frowned, as if trying to recall how many gardens he did own. 'I believe I had eight in total? Or is that nine? That is I had nine gardens over three estates, and several of them opened up onto the manor so I cannot really count them as proper locked gardens.' he confessed, oblivious at how shocking that type of wealth appeared to someone such as myself. 'I never did much with the keys, my groundskeepers usually kept them in a safe place.'

Shaking my head in amusement, I sat down on the blanket. 

'It turns out the owners of this garden here are in fact Orlesian themselves.' continued Michel 'They came from the Arlesans, and actually landscaped some of the parterre gardens in Val Royeaux and the Royal Palace in Denerim. Now they have retired here and this little garden was a project of their own. They were nice enough to loan it to me for the evening, and seemed more than a little happy to oblige The Maister of Blades.’

Michel rolled his eyes.

‘You love it.’ I taunted. Grinning, I turned back to the beautiful surroundings before me. ‘I’m glad you did what you had to do. I’ve never seen such an enchanting place like this before.’

‘Well I thought we could share a meal together?’ he informed cheerfully, joining me on the blanket ‘Dining by the light of lanterns and stars is much nicer than the harsh aesthetics of a tavern.’

‘No one has ever done anything like this for me.’ shaking my head in disbelief as Michel set out the food before us. ‘Thank you so much.’

Michel smiled as he poured some warmed tea into two cups before us. ‘Someone should have by now.’

My eyes dropped, and perhaps my heart a little, suddenly reminded of Cullen. 

As if Michel knew what I was thinking, he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I did not mean… I meant someone, _anyone_, should have taken you on a picnic before now.’ explained the ex-chevalier somewhat regretfully 'I wasn't referring to Cullen.' 

Feeling foolish, I waved off the apology. 'It's fine.'

Michel frowned. ‘I worry about you Ophelia. How are you coping with what has happened between Cullen and Mabel?’

‘Hah!’ I scoffed cynically, rolling my eyes ‘You know me, it’s all good.’

‘That bad?’ sighed Michel. Taking a sip of his tea, he grew quiet for a moment as he contemplated the situation. 'It goes without saying that Cullen's actions are a reflection on himself, not you.'

'He berated you and I for a kiss and then he goes and fucks Mabel Guildersleeve.' I observed darkly 'You think you know someone? Look I know I can’t change what has happened. What can I say? It happened. Cullen and I are no longer together. He's with Mabel and that is the reality of the situation. I see that now.’

Michel shook his head silently. No doubt he had his own opinions about Cullen but I could see he refused to go into them with me. Perhaps there was already enough fuel on that fire.

‘I only wish he had just come out and told me.’ I added bitterly ‘Just a heads up that he was moving on with her. That way I wouldn't have stupidly followed them into the woods and seen what I saw.’

‘You don’t need anything else from him,’ replied Michel dryly ‘especially not another excuse. I fear that is all he would have given you.’

‘The fonder I loved him, the falser he grew.’ I muttered ‘That isn’t love. I can see that now.’. I drew my eyes up to Michel ‘All I know is I desperately needed to get away from Skyhold, if only for a while, and I am glad I am here. I am glad I am here with you.’

Michel threw a smile, gently nudging his hand against my chin ‘You break my heart when I see you so sad. I'm glad you're smiling again Ophelia, even if it's just a small one.’

‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’ I sighed. Looking around at the beautiful surroundings of the garden I knew we shouldn't be wasting our time discussing the past. ‘I don’t want to talk about Cullen to be honest. I want to enjoy this moment in Val Foret?’

Michel grinned ‘I told you we would find the center of the maze.’

The ex-chevalier had a way of making me feel like I was bathing in sunlight when I was around him. Everything felt so airy and free, and the heaviness of my mind and former days seemed to somewhat dissipate. I loved the Orlesian’s brilliant white smile, and his deep blue eyes that locked into mine when his head tilted to the side, a celestial being curiously taking in every part of me as I sat before him. Whenever I was near Michel gave me the full attention that only someone who generally is interested in another gives, with a small smile on his lips and a dreamy look in his eyes.

Running my fingers across, I reached out for Michel’s hand as he cast his attention to the soft swaying of the weeping willow that hung over the pond in the distance. Michel turned to me in surprise on feeling my touch but his expression softened as he saw me slowly draw over to him.

Placing my hands softly on either side of his face, I ran my fingers across his cheeks and smiled at him.

The curious expression Michel was politely turned into a curl of his lips, smiling back at me without question. Whatever he felt in that moment was disguised by his civility, yet his quietude spoke louder than words as he looked affectionately into my eyes. 

As I held his cheeks in my hands I grinned as I recalled Dorian mentioning the ex-chevalier’s pale skin, for indeed it was stunning. Against the paleness of his skin his cheeks were like the stain of blood on fresh snow, a soft flush of rose, while his eyes were as deep blue as melting ice. His eyebrows were light blonde like his hair, and sculpted with a beautiful elegance I could only presume was an elvish attribute, while the soft blonde stubble of his jaw gave his beauty a hint of ruggedness that his human side no doubt provided. Gently I ran my finger along the white scar that lay across his left brow and cheekbone, the harsh marks of reality on his otherwise flawless features.

‘How did _this_ happen?’ I asked softly.

Michel continued to gaze into my eyes, a warm smile on his lips as he looked at me looking at him. Whether I cared to admit it or not, this wasn’t a moment between mere friends. It was intimate and it was something that I had felt with Michel before and secretly craved to feel again.

‘The one on my brow happened in a battle against the Nevarrans.’ replied Michel ‘Empress Celene wanted to reclaim the Bjornuo Hills, an area near the border of Orlais and Nevarra. It's a place rich with minerals and Celene was partial to it. Orlais lost the land to Nevarra during the Blessed Age. So we, the Orlesian army, were drawn to the battleground at Perendale on the first day of mid-winter. It was an unwritten formality never to fight in winter but Empress Celene decided to use this to her advantage. We fought on the frozen Lake of Knaves and I slipped on the ice when an arrow narrowly shot past me. A Nevarran soldier’s blade got too close when I was on the ground and that scar was the result.’

I frowned, feeling uneasy at hearing stories where Michel’s life was in danger. As if he could tell what I was thinking, he lifted his palm to my cheek.

‘It’s okay,’ he reassured kindly ‘I left the battlefield alive, that’s the only thing that counts at the end of the day.’

Running my finger along his upper left cheekbone, I traced along another deep white scar. ’Did this happen at Lake Knaves as well?’ 

Michel chuckled bashfully, his blue eyes averting mine for a moment in embarrassment. ‘That one was not so valiantly obtained Im afraid. The chevaliers in Halamshiral were drinking heavily one night with Duke Gaspard. That was a long time ago, when he was still welcomed at court. The Duke had just returned from his travels and had brought with him several barrels of his latest vintage from the northern region of Montford where his estate keeps a large vineyard.’. Michel shuddered, recalling the taste. ‘It was like ingesting cheap dwarven spirits. Before we knew it there were thirty chevaliers roaming the Imperial Highway and more than a little festive. We passed by some dwarven stragglers, which we foolishly began to hurl insults at. Well, they turned out to be two dozen or so of Orzammar’s Carta and they were not too pleased at being called a whiffle-whaffle fustylugs by Gaspard. We all ended up clashing steel, and a dwarven axe produced the guilty mark.’

‘You’re joking!’ I grinned ‘Maister of Blades you surprise me!’

Michel chuckled, nodding his head guiltily. ‘Perhaps I have a knack of finding trouble at times?’

The knight seemed happy at recalling previous days of being a chevalier, something I had rarely seen. It pleased me to see his spirit too had been lifted, if not just a little.

‘You seem to get into your fair share of trouble also?’ pointed out Michel with a grin.

‘Well, inbetween stealing butteries from the Skyhold kitchens and being a pickpocket in Kirkwall what chance did I really have?’ I mused. Suddenly I went silent, looking away in shame.

‘Ophelia?’ remarked Michel, drawing his hand to my arm 'What is it?'

‘The night of the feast in Skyhold, when we spoke in the courtyard.’ I recalled ‘You said something about honour. And I know you think I am dishonourable but-‘

‘I never said that.’ interjected Michel in a soft voice, shaking his head. ‘What would make you think I thought such a thing?’

‘No, you said you couldn’t dismiss all the wrongdoings we had done as much as I could.’ I continued ‘It made me wonder what you truly must think of me? I mean, in addition to all of that I was making my way in the world stealing off others in Kirkwall. You are so honourable and I suspect I fall a bit short of the chevalier’s code.’

Michel shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing my hands strongly in his hands. ‘You are the most honourable person I know, Inquisitor.’ he declared passionately ‘That night in Skyhold I was angry at myself. Your kindness was trying to steal that fury away from me when all I wanted to do was face that hurt. I am sorry for saying that, it wasn't at all what I meant.’. Raising his eyebrows in amusement he added ‘Notice how I used steal to describe what you did?’

‘So witty.’ I teased.

'I try.' replied Michel with a wink.

Growing quiet again as I looked at my companion. Michel noticed my silence and threw a curious look at me. Leaning over to him, I had no desire in speaking another word as I drew my lips to his. Feeling the fullness of his bottom lip touch mine, his mouth opened softly to welcome me as he drew me into a deeper kiss.

Drawing his arms around my waist, Michel pulled me tightly against his firm chest as he continued the passionate embrace. His body stiffened as I ran my hands down his chest and abdomen, moving under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin hot against my hands. The touch of my fingers on his flesh was electric, and I desperately wanted more. Michel seemed to respond to my touch with more than a little enthusiasm, his kisses became deeper and more passionate as he gathered me closer.

Suddenly I pulled away from him, my breath drawing deep in my chest.

‘What is it?’ asked Michel in concern 'I'm sorry, of course you need space. We should have some dinner perhaps?' 

Taking another deep breath, my heart was pounding in my chest as I looked to the man. I knew what I wanted.

‘I want you to make love to me Michel, here, in this garden.’

The ex-chevalier’s blue eyes fluttered up to the trees, a bashful smile on his lips before drawing back to me. Michel hesitated, breaking off in an embarrassed laugh before he could reply.

‘Do you not want to?’ I teased, tilting my head in question and taking delight in his apparent discomfort.

The smile on Michel’s face fell away suddenly as he drew his blue eyes into mine. ‘Of course I do.’ he declared gently ‘The very thought of you and I stirs me greatly. It’s just that there is you and Cullen.’

Frowning at his comment, I didn't even want to entertain the thought of the man. Not after what he had done. ‘I'm not with Cullen any more. You know there is no going back to him after what he did? Surely you realise that?’

‘Well yes but I fear your heart may still be with him.’ replied Michel, casting his eyes away again to fiddle with some grass beside the blanket. ‘If I was the only one you truly desired then I would never mention such things. But people are complicated, no? The wound of Cullen's betrayal is fresh Ophelia. I know what that can do to someone. Being with me won’t help ease that pain.’

Raising a brow to the man, I couldn't hep but laugh at his oblivious nature to my feelings. ‘Michel have you not noticed how I am around you? You stole a piece of my heart from the first day you arrived at Skyhold.’

‘You stole all of mine.’ confessed Michel 'And from that moment I haven't stopped thinking about you.'

Rendering me a little speechless, Michel placed another soft kiss on my lips.

‘The time you sat with me on the stairs of the keep,’ he added ‘I remember thinking you were more beautiful than the first light of the summer sun glistening on the cold dew drops of morning. So selfless and kind towards others without any agenda. I was more than a little taken aback, and after that you never left my thoughts. Not even for a day.’

‘Cullen was right about my motives on the Imperial Highway, when I released you from Imshael.’. A sudden confession of my own coming forth, I knew I had to tell Michel why I had done what I had done. ‘Michel I performed blood magic to save your life because I cared deeply for you. I didn’t want to live in a world without you Michel, no matter the cost.’

Pressing his lips against my hand fervantly, Michel blinked away tears in his eyes. 'I wished you had not cast that spell and now I dearly thank the gods that you did. You have saved me on so many levels Ophelia.'

‘The truth is Cullen broke my heart, but not all of it for you also had a piece.’. I confessed ‘Why else would I feel what I am feeling for you? What I have been feeling for you for a while now? If you would have it, I’d give my heart to you willingly.’

The ex-chevalier grabbed my hands in his, lowering his gaze to them fondly before looking up at me. ‘Only if you accept mine.’ 

Michel drew his lips to mine again, more hungrily this time. It was a different and stronger passion in his embrace and I felt myself drowning in it.

‘Ophelia.’ he whispered, pulling away to hold my attention.

I looked upon that Orlesian face and saw the intensity of his affections as he held my gaze.

'What is it?'

‘You deserve someone who will cherish every part of you.’ Michel fervently declared ‘Let me be that man. I will never betray you.’

Reaching my arms around the Orlesian’s neck, I pulled him to me and he held me close, his arms around my waist as his head rested in my neck. I felt Michel breathe in heavily before a pair of lips drew to my neck, a deep and tender dance leading slowly back to my face.

His deep blue eyes pulled back into mine, our faces inches apart, chests rising and falling heavily before Michel pressed his mouth hungrily onto mine once more. An excitement grew in me as I felt the ex-chevalier’s strong hands run hotly against my body, his fingers drawing around my waist to the curve of my rear, pulling me into him. Michel continued to kiss me deeply before once more.....pulling away.

‘Tell me to stop and I will.’ he asked seriously ‘I want you but I will not continue unless it is what you truly desire also.’

Overwhelmed with desire, I pulled his head eagerly to mine to answer his question. Michel’s lips met and devoured hungrily as his hands clenched my hair tightly, as if he feared I would disappear.

My hands fell to his chest, past his waist to where I began to unbuckle his belt. It should have been an easy task but it wasn't and I began to curse at not being able to undo it. 

‘Allow me.’ he chuckled ‘These Ferelden sword belts are notorious for keeping their owners imprisoned.’

Grinning, I was happy to see him remove it effortlessly. ‘It’s very strange seeing you without armour. Come to think of it I’ve hardly seen you without armour but often wondered what that would look like in my mind. Actually, I think half of Skyhold have contemplated the same thing.’

‘Without armour or without clothing?’ mused Michel cheekily 'I am happy to reveal that mystery. To you, that is. Not the rest of Skyhold.'

'Spoil sport.' I teased.

The ex-chevalier grinned as he pulled the white cotton tunic over his head and dropped it softly to the ground, exposing his wide muscular chest and torso, rippled and firm, narrowing down into a tight abdomen. His arms were sculpted, bulging muscle after muscle, toned and strong.

Kneeling before me, Michel smiled as he gently removed my boots one by one before lightly moving his hands to my dress to slowly pull it over my head, revealing my bare skin beneath.

‘This may have crossed over my mind several times or more.’ Michel confessed, flashing his mischievous eyes over me.

Moving closer, the ex-chevalier placed his warm hands on my breasts. He whispered breathlessly in Orlesian under his breath mon dieu before lowering his mouth onto one and then the other, placing soft kisses on each peak and causing them to grow hard. The feel of his tongue on my skin left me speechless as he continued to taste his forbidden fruit.

A shaky breath escaped my lips as he lowered his strong frame over me. He gently took my hand and placed it on the warm skin of his chiseled abdomen.

'Do you feel my heart beating so fast?' he asked in amusement 'Not even in the Battle of Castiellon did it pound like this.' 

'Do I scare you that much?' I laughed. 

Michel bestowed another passionate kiss, deep and sensual. 'I do not fear death. I do however fear beautiful women'that hold me under their spell.'

I knew how Michel felt for it felt like he was doing the same to me. 

I could feel the concealed hardness of Michel press against my stomach and I dove my hand down into his material trappings, my fingers coming in contact with his warm and very stiff member. He looked surprised at my forthrightness but nevertheless pleased. Wrapping my fingers around his wide girth, I stroked him up and down slowly as he moaned at the sensation, ravishing my neck with kisses and growing more enthusiastic by the second. Being so erect I struggled to release him, however on his knees he aided me in pulling down his pants and a magnificent large cock was revealed, swollen and red with a bulbous purple head enticing me ever so much.

‘Well well, Maister of Blades!?’ I remarked in surprise, catching my breath at the monstrous size of the ex-chevalier’s manhood.

'You were expecting a dagger?' observed the amused ex-chevalier.

'A long sword perhaps, but certainly not a broadsword!' I teased, causing the man to playfully poke me in the ribs. 

Michel threw an embarrassed smile as he watched me come face to face with his Orlesian splendour. He stood up and removed his own boots and trousers before joining me once again on the blanket, fully naked and spectacular.

'Your turn now.' informed Michel as began to peel off my bloomers, revealing my full nakedness to him for the first time. Wasting no time, the ex-chevalier ran his hands up my legs as he drew near, a mischievous look on his face as he gently lowered me back to lay on the rug. I watched as the naked ex-chevalier suddenly stood up, retreating to the nearby fruit tree to pluck a ripe pear before returning.

My heart was racing as Michel dropped onto his knees before me, flashing me a seductive smile as took a large bite from the pear, its juices running down his chin as he savoured the first taste.

‘Enjoying that are you?’ I grinned, wondering what in the blazes my companion was up to.

‘Not as much as this.’ replied Michel deviously, lowering his head to my knee where he began kissing upwards along my thigh. The ex-chevalier’s lips were tortuously tender as they moved further up to my inner thigh. I drew a shaky breath as I felt him reach my intimate parts, his warm breath teasing my labia as he lowered his mouth upon my lips. The softness of Michel’s tongue melted straight against my clit and he began to lap along it hungrily.

Shuddering I could feel my hands running through his blond hair, subconsciously pulling him towards me as I moved my hips in approval. Eyes lulling shut and my breathing growing deeper and deeper, I suddenly startled as I felt the warm drops of pear juice trickling over my labia, a grinning Orlesian squeezing the fruit in his hand onto my flesh before greedily plunging back between my legs. Michel sucked and licked and lapped and swirled his tongue with a certain expertise that only a proficient could have mustered, and the sensation had me melting under his touch. His warm tongue running along my pink flesh was making my stomach flutter in delight, begging me to take the Orlesian into me. The build-up was so pleasurable it began to feel torturous, the feel of Michel’s mouth on my most intimate parts, teasing me over and over without mercy. His tongue continued to dance across my clit while his fingers dipped inside me, and had me breathing faster and faster until my surroundings were spinning and I grew tight, crying out in pleasure as ripples of bliss coursed through me, my body shuddering all the while Michel held his place, his tongue refusing to leave my clit until I had finished.

Revealing a pleased smile, he finally emerged and pulled me up to him, planting a deep kiss on my lips. Our tongues dived into each other, and I could taste a mixture of myself, Michel and pear juice. It was more than a little erotic.

‘That was what we Orlesians call the _pièce de résistance_.’ grinned Michel, drawing his fingers into his mouth as he sucked them dry.

‘Whatever that was, you can do that any time you like.’ I replied breathlessly, feeling utterly satisfied ‘That was delicious.’

‘Most delicious.’ replied Michel, his voice full of desire.

Drawing me into his arms, Michel’s searing hot member pressed hard against my belly as he passionately embraced me.

‘Come over here.’ he smiled, drawing my hand to pull me up. The ex-chevalier led me to a soft patch of grass nearby. ‘Let us consummate against the rawness of the earth.’ he suggested gently, encouraging me to sit upon the grass with him.

The knight lay me gently on the grass before crawling over me, the heat of our bodies torturing my senses as his deep blue eyes looked into mine. I could not believe we were here, together, naked in this garden and about to connect in the most intimate way. Nothing else felt so right or so necessary.

Holding my face tenderly, Michel kept looking into my eyes as he ran his hard member across my labia, coating himself in my juices before lining up the head of his cock.

‘_Ar lath math_.’ he murmured, slowly easing into me.

Our bodies shivered at the union, that feeling of his warm, hard cock easing up into me for the first time. The pent up desire was finally being released in that one deep penetration. My body ached for him, but also found him a large guest to welcome as I opened up to his thickness and length. Michel eased in slowly and gently until he was finally buried deep to the hilt.

‘What does that mean?’ I whispered, looking into his eyes as he remained deep inside me 'What you just said then?'

Michel’s melting blue eyes looked down at me, his blonde hair scattered across his brow as he held my gaze. ‘_Ar lath math_. It means I love you.’ he whispered back, an affectionate smile on his face.

‘_Ar lath math_.’ I whispered back to him, a tear trailing down my cheek as he remained still.

Drawing his lips to mine, he kissed me deeply before pulling back, chuckling as he looked down at me ‘Wonderful. You crying when I start making love.’

Laughing, I shook my head. ‘No I'm crying because of what I am feeling for you.’ 

‘I know, but don’t cry my love.’ whispered the ex-chevalier ‘You have shed enough tears, I would have you smile.’. Playfully he added ‘Perhaps I can help with that?’

With a devious grin, the ex-chevalier began to move in me, his face growing more serious as he began to lose himself in the pleasure of the moment. With breathless moans, he began to increase the rhythm of his strokes. I could feel his pulse throbbing, and I ran my hands across his back, my legs wrapping over his buttocks, my body willing him to fill me deeper and deeper.

‘Tell me what you want.’ Michel murmured breathlessly ‘Your wish is my desire. My only desire.’

‘Make love to me,’ I whispered back, drawing his mouth to mine as he began to thrust slowly and deep inside of me ‘however you like.’

‘No, what do you like?’ he repeated ‘I want to know.’

‘Forceful,’ I confessed ‘and hard.’

Michel raised an eyebrow in amusement, surprised but pleased nevertheless, placing another hot kiss on my lips as he began to thrust harder. He adjusted his hips slightly, pulling mine up at an angle, as he thrust deeper and now more forcefully, plunging to the hilt and hitting me in a spot that caused me to cry out in pleasure. His carefully angled movements causing the result he had intended. Michel's blonde hair spilt over me as he continued to thrust into the spot inside of me that was aching with desire. Grounding his arms firmly on either side of me, the ex-chevalier began to pound harder, each stroke going deep as his nimble hands reached down and deftly flicked at my clit causing me to draw my breath as the intensity of the moment rose.

With a smile on his lips and refusing to relent in his pace or withdraw his hands that played deftly, I cried out as I clenched hard around his member.

Closing his eyes Michel moaned deeply, a low guttural sound in his throat of agonising pleasure as he continued to thrust into me. It was clear the ex-chevalier had no intention of releasing so soon and ending the moment yet. The wave had passed and Michel began to thrust firmer, and I found myself catching my breath as I felt the desire beginning to grow once more. It seemed the devious Orlesian was intent on giving me multiple climaxes in this charmed garden.

Hooking my legs around his arms, the ex-chevalier pushed his cock in deeper and began to unleash his stamina as he fucked me harder, a groan on his lips as he transformed into a wilder being I had not had the pleasure of meeting until now. His blonde hair scattered freely across as he liberated himself, embracing the desire and lust of the moment in a series of raw fucks. The ex-chevalier was a machine of endurance, strength and stamina, and I found myself catching my breath as he unleashed himself onto me.

Michel shuddered through each stroke, his breath growing shaky as he tried to hold on. Bending down, he planted his lips on my breast and began to suck firmly, rolling his tongue over my hard nub. Our bodies moving together, Michel desperately clutched my head, drawing his eyes down into mine as we reached our climax, heavy breaths and deep moans on every thrust, his stokes growing firmer and firmer until we both cried out, beholding that expression of pure ecstasy on each other’s face as we experienced each other’s orgasm. 

Michel pulled me into an embrace while still remaining inside me. He was trembling, and I could feel his heart pounding against my skin. In truth, so was I. 

‘_Ma emma lath, ma vhenan’ara_.’ Michel murmured tenderly, leaning down to kiss me. Noticing the furrow on my brow, Michel chuckled. ‘You are my love, my heart’s desire.’ he explained.

‘And you are mine.’ I whispered, pulling him into another kiss.

Locked in an eternal embrace on the floor of the earth, neither of us was willing to leave the other, now that we had joined together as one. Our union had been sanctified by the evergreen, and we now felt as much a part of nature as the trees and plants around us, our bodies lovingly entwined like the wild roses on the stone wall…


	25. A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Fingers drumming hard on the oak wood table of the war room, her sharp green eyes ran curiously over the pair before her, narrowing thinly as she examined the Commander and the Ambassador standing side by side. It was the little things that Leliana was drawn to. The way Cullen’s hand ran up and down along Mabel’s forearm, drawn out in desirable strokes before running around her hip firmly, pulling her closer to him. Or the way he bent his head down to Mabel, kissing her delicate neck as she tried to read a document in front of her, before giving up and succumbing to his attention in a fit of soft giggles.

Leliana frowned, tilting her head as if her eyes were perhaps deceiving her. If the spymaster did not know better, she would have assumed she was in the pair's bedroom rather than a council meeting.

‘Ambassador, we need you to visit the capital city of Hossberg in the Anderfels.’ informed Leliana sharply ‘We have received an invitation from the noble house of Calaborne. In truth we have struggled to gain support from the Anderfels so we should not hesitate in accepting their hospitality now. House Calaborne has showed some interest in supporting the Inquisition in the past but never formally made a gesture until now.’

‘I would advise playing into their religious sentiments.’ suggested Cassandra ‘The Anders people are the most pious followers of the Maker. You should emphasise the Inquisitor’s calling as the Herald of Andraste.’

‘Their faith is their salvation.’ agreed Leliana ‘If they could see the Inquisition as being apart of that moral path then we could gain the support of more than one noble house. Perhaps even royal support? It's a big hope, but if we play our cards right who knows?’

‘I fear King Wilhelm Augustin is not interested in his own people, let alone the plight of the Inquisition.’ observed Cassandra judgmentally ‘Besides, he has no real standing or power amongst the wider population outside his precious stone city walls.’

‘Yes I hear the king is only interested in the royal city of Hossberg, forsaking everything else.’ added Leliana ‘Mabel, when you meet the house of Calaborne I would advise you to emphasise the stability and strength of the Inquisition. We may not be a kingdom, but we look after every single person who offers us support. Talk to them about how the Inquisition strongly supports the Chantry, and our religious affiliations. That included Cassandra and I being the former left and right hand of Divine Justinia. See how they respond to offers of power, protection and reputation by association to the Inquisition. At the moment all we can do is play into their vulnerable traits and hope that they bite.’

Leliana looked over to Mabel, whose attention was focused on Cullen as she whispered something into her ear.

‘Ambassador?’ remarked Leliana abruptly.

Cullen and Mabel both looked up with a startle, appearing almost surprised that they had company in the room. Neither of them had been particularly interested in hearing anything that the council had to say.

‘The Anderfels?’ pouted Mabel ‘That is so far away. When must I go?’

‘Tomorrow.’ informed Leliana shortly ‘As ambassador for the Inquisition travelling to far and foreign places comes part and parcel with the job I'm afraid.’

Cullen and Mabel turned their attention back to each other. The Commander wrapped his hands around Mabel's waist once more, pulling her close to him.

‘I shall go with Lady Guildersleeve on this trip.’ announced Cullen, not tearing his eyes off the woman. ‘She will need an escort to Hossberg.’

‘Something that can be easily done by the Inquisition soldiers.’ retorted the spymaster shortly, casting a frown to Cassandra who was also looking at the pair with a disapproving glare of her own.

‘Then I shall take some time off.’ argued Cullen impatiently ‘I'm certain to be owed some.’

Cassandra raised her eyebrows in surprise, the document in her hand drooping. ‘You are asking for time off?’ she exclaimed, a little taken back by the request.

‘Yes.’ replied Cullen with a certain degree of hostility ‘Do you have a problem with that Seeker?’

Somewhat shocked, which quickly transformed into annoyance, Cassandra cast Cullen a scathing look. The small crease on the crest of her eyebrow grew deep as she glared at him with growing severity.

‘Cullen you know that is not possible at present.’ interceded Leliana quickly, keen to dissipate the growing tension. ‘With Michel de Chevin off duty at the moment, there is no one who can take over your duties.’

‘Maker’s breath,’ cursed Cullen in frustration ‘well, I’ll get him back to work then!’

‘He’s not in Skyhold at the moment.’ replied Leliana crisply, adding somewhat bluntly ‘Michel and the Inquisitor have gone to Ferelden for the rest of the week.’

Looking unconcerned at the fact, Cullen merely shrugged ‘Then send a messenger to retrieve them.’

‘I can’t.’ replied Leliana sharply, growing more frustrated by the moment ‘They are entitled to a break, and so are you when they get back. Until then you will have to stay in Skyhold while Mabel goes to the Anderfels. Is this going to be a problem for you Commander?’

The fire in Cullen’s amber eyes suggested it was and he was about to say more on the matter before Mabel grabbed his large hand to placate him.

‘No Leliana, there is no problem.’ answered Mabel hastily. She threw another look at Cullen who was looking more than a little annoyed. ‘I shall start packing now.’ added Mabel a little dejectedly ‘Is there anything else?’

‘No, that is all.’ answered Leliana wearily ‘There will be a coach in the courtyard ready for your departure at daybreak tomorrow.’

With a pair of pursed lips Mabel nodded briefly to the council and left, followed immediately by her ex-templar shadow, leaving a bewildered Leliana and Cassandra behind in the war room.

‘Fine Commander, you can go too. Nothing important to discuss it is only the war council.’ muttered Leliana under her breath as the doors closed shut on them.

‘What was that? Did I miss something?’ exclaimed a bewildered Cassandra ‘I could have sworn Cullen was acting strange.’

‘Strange?’ chortled Leliana, throwing the papers onto the table in disgust ‘That was surreal..’

‘Did you know Cullen and Mabel were involved?’ remarked Cassandra.

‘I could have sworn Cullen was involved with Ophelia Trevelyan, not Mabel Guildersleeve.’ replied Leliana with a raised eyebrow.

‘Didn’t you say Ophelia was with Michel in Ferelden?’ observed Cassandra ‘I would guess that Cullen and her have parted ways?’

‘Odd, no? Cullen with Mabel, and now Michel and Ophelia are in Ferelden together?’ frowned Leliana ‘No, something is off here. I can feel it.’

‘Whatever could you possibly mean?’ remarked Cassandra cynically ‘Apart from the Commander asking for time off to leave on a diplomatic mission to mingle with nobility in the Anderfels.’

‘Precisely,’ scoffed Leliana ‘it is more than a little strange.’

‘Perhaps he is smitten with Mabel?’ shrugged Cassandra ‘Their irritating displays of affection suggest as much.’. The Seeker threw a displeased look at the place where the pair had been standing, as if the image was now burned into her mind and the memory irritated her greatly. 'Is that what love does to people?'

‘Cassandra, he was mauling her in front of our very eyes.’ exasperated Leliana ‘Who does that in a war council?’

Cassandra shrugged ‘Like I said, perhaps the Commander is smitten?’

‘Smitten!’ scoffed Leliana ‘I know Cullen. He is not the sort of man to get smitten, and especially not in public for all to see. How long was it that Ophelia and he kept their relationship secret before displaying their affection to everyone else? And what? He meets Mabel a week ago and they are now fondling each other in the war room like it is their own private boudoir?’

Cassandra frowned as she contemplated the situation. ‘I agree, something feels wrong about all this.’ 

‘That is not the half of it.’ continued Leliana ‘Mabel’s interest in Cullen is even more puzzling. Mabel Guildersleeve is from one of the most respected noble families in Thedas. Simply put, she would never be involved with anyone except another noble. Even then, they would have to be a noble of some great standing. Her reputation would never allow this sort of thing to happen.’

‘Cullen is Commander of the Inquisition?’ pointed out the Seeker ‘That is a weighty title few could match.’

‘Yes but he is not of noble blood.' argued Leliana 'Nothing else matters to the Orlesian nobility.’

‘Maybe she has changed?’ suggested Cassandra ‘After all she did leave the Orlesian Court to come aid Skyhold.’

Leliana shrugged. ‘Are we being too harsh? Could this perhaps just be the stirrings of a new intrigue and we have become cynical over the years?’

‘Even if that is the case, what was all that touching and scowling at me about?’ remarked Cassandra dryly, thrusting her hand to the space where Cullen and Mabel had been standing ‘Intrigue or not, Cullen was acting hostile to everyone except Mabel.’

‘Very unusual.’ frowned Leliana ‘I think we need to keep an eye on the Commander.’

Cassandra sighed, drawing her fingers to her temples and massaging them intensely. ‘I’ll add it to the never ending list of jobs that needs to be done.’

Exchanging frowns, the pair recommenced addressing the issues of the war council. A challenging task for five members to endeavour upon let alone two, and yet these days Cassandra and Leliana were beginning to get more and more used to the extra responsibility, taking it bitterly in their stride.

****

‘Abundant yet concealed, clouded ice of the gods. A pattern of turtle shell, and hard alike, but not a turtle in sight. Surrounded in darkness, you will find its soft green glow. Tears will not fall, but a faithful pungent cousin it remains. When the mightiest weed falls from grace, the sun shall shine onto fields of majesty.’

Looking utterly bewildered, the mage apprentice reading the tome looked up suddenly. ‘By Andraste, what does all that actually mean?!’

Pacing the room with great enthusiasm, and a jovial bounce in his step, Jowan rubbed his hands in analytical delight. ‘Okay let’s confirm what we do know. Abundant yet concealed, clouded ice of the gods?’

Jowan cast his attention to a dozen or so uncertain looking mages crowded around the first level of the mage tower at Skyhold. Blank faces and scratching of heads revealed their complete and absolute confusion on the matter being presented.

‘Quartz crystal.’ informed Jowan with an encouraging smile ‘It’s quartz crystal.’. Turning his attention back to the tome, he read the next line ‘A pattern of turtle shell, and hard alike, but not a turtle in sight.’

‘A conch perhaps?’ suggested a young woman, a mage with fiery red hair tumbling down her back ‘Conches have those patterns.’

‘A seashell isn’t hard though, is it?’ pointed out another mage sitting on a tired looking chair.

‘Greenstone has a pattern on it like a turtle shell?’ suggested a man with soft blonde hair, another one of the apprentice mages. ‘It’s a hard mineral.’

A few of the mages nodded their heads in certainty, agreeing with the suggestion.

‘Good, good. I thought that as well. Greenstone!’ nodded Jowan encouragingly ‘Now what about the next part. Surrounded in darkness, you will find its soft green glow.’

‘Deep mushroom.’ called out an elderly female mage.

‘Precisely.’ grinned Jowan ‘Tears will not fall, but a faithful pungent cousin it remains.’

‘Gerland’s socks are pretty pungent.’ joked another mage at the back of the room, playfully nudging his friend Gerland in the ribs.

‘Oh perfect, I’m sure the Inquisition will be delighted that we are brewing a potion with Gerland’s sock essence in it.’ chuckled Jowan.

The room filled with laughter before settling down once more.

‘Not an onion,’ frowned the red haired mage ‘but from the family. A leek? No wait, garlic?’

‘Yes I thought garlic too.’ affirmed Jowan with a pleased smile ‘Excellent! Now the final piece of the puzzle. When the mightiest weed falls from grace, the sun shall shine onto fields of majesty.’. He looked up to the now silent group of confused looking mages ‘Any thoughts?’

Whilst unpacking one of the wooden crates of magical items, Jowan had stumbled across an old and extremely powerful regeneration recipe in one of the tomes. Its effects promised to regenerate almost double the health of what potions they had readily available at present. The recipe had been tucked neatly in between two stuck pages of an old tome Magna Di Curant, Parva Neglegunt: The gods care about great matters, but they neglect the small ones. The title had peaked Jowan’s interest and even more so when he found the concealed recipe, destined to be forgotten forever if not for the curious mage. The recipe was cryptic to say the least, and was composed entirely in riddle. Rising to the challenge, Jowan had managed to decipher all the ingredients except for one.

‘What do we think?’ Jowan pondered, somewhat bewildered ‘I admit I have been baffled for days on this one.’

‘Is it elfroot?’ asked one of the mages, a young woman with brown hair ‘All health poultices have elfroot. Surely it has to be that?’

‘No, elfroot is not a weed.’ pointed out Jowan ‘Of course, how loosely did our fathers of old define weed from plant? Who’s to say?’

‘Dandelion?’ suggested an older mage, a gruff man with a patch over one eye.

‘Aye but it still makes no sense in regards to the riddle?’ pointed out the elderly female mage ‘We have to interpret what fields of majesty mean?’

‘It’s nug grass sir.’ called out a small voice. A boy no older than eleven was sitting on a wooden table at the back of the room, more interested in rolling two marbles between his right and left hand. The child raised his blue eyes up from under his mop of wavy brown hair, and nodded to Jowan, looking more certain in his convictions than the wisest scholar in all of the lands. 'Definitely nug grass.'

A curl on growing on his lip, Jowan looked up in surprise. His smiling green eyes met the boy’s.

‘Tithensheaf?’ replied Jowan curiously ‘The winter weed that dies on the first day of summer. Otherwise known as nug grass. Goodness gracious me that’s it! That is it!’

Jowan arose from his seat with a broad grin as he began to clap his hands slowly in ovation, applauding the boy mage as the rest of the room followed suit, cheering and smiling all around.

‘Well done Chester, well done!’ congratulated Jowan enthusiastically.

Reaching into his pocket, Jowan threw the boy a small glass bottle filled with red and white looking beads.

‘My favourite. They’re boiled sweets, peppermint and cinnamon.’ informed Jowan encouragingly with a nod as the boy looked at the bottle in intrigue.

‘Peppermint Soldiers?!’ remarked Chester in delight ‘Why...thank you so much sir!’

‘Yes remember that.’ remarked Jowan with a chuckle ‘The way you’re excelling, I’ll be out of a job before the next full moon and in need of a favour.’

With a large amount of joviality, the mages in the room laughed, as did the boy Chester. The energy in the tower that morning was uplifting and everyone was more than a little pleased they had solved the riddle of the mysterious recipe. It was a rare and wonderful discovery that was certain to dramatically aid the Inquisition. Even more promising, it was a way to show the more sceptical members of the Inquisition that the mages were not a source of impending danger. The mages were here to help, and help they would provide, without their shackles holding them down.

A smile still wide on his lips, Jowan cast his eyes across the room, a joyful expression on his face that held perhaps even an element of pride. After so little time in Skyhold, he had begun to make changes. Thanks to him the tower was brimming with stock and the mages were taking interest in their studies once more. United together, they were enthusiastic to be working with their arcane talents once more, and without a templar in sight.

Turning his attention back to the mages, Jowan jumped, spotting Cole sitting at the back of the room silently scowling at the mage.

‘Ah well, good job everyone.’ replied Jowan hastily ‘You deserve a break and I suspect Madame Ruthie is serving tea and scones in the main hall for elevensies. Come back in half an hour and we shall begin to concoct this poultice.’

With half a dozen nods and smiles thrown towards Jowan, the group of mages happily filed out of the room, leaving Cole and Jowan alone.

‘Cole?’ remarked Jowan, edging his way to close the door securely behind the last mage departing ‘How can I be of assistance?’

‘Everyone has feelings. Everyone’s feelings feel different.’ observed Cole adamantly ‘Like the iris of one’s eye. It can be streaked or dotted, and with so many colours. Like blue. Or brown? Or even yellow. All so different. Every single one is different.’

‘Is everything all right Cole?’ asked Jowan precariously, moving back to his desk.

‘Your sister has feelings for Cullen.’ observed Cole flatly ‘Ophelia has feelings for Cullen. A lot of women in the keep have feelings for Cullen.’

‘Well then I dare say he is a lucky man!’ replied Jowan festively, although now looking more than a little peaky. Cole was picking up on too much about Josephine’s desire for Cullen and it made the mage more than a little fearful.

‘They all desire Cullen, but they do not feel it the same way.’ continued Cole, growing in agitation ‘Penny, the cook’s hand, shakes when the Commander passes her in the main hall at breakfast. Her breath feels like a jittery bluebird in a strong breeze. Cosette is one of Cullen’s soldiers. Her heart beats as fast as the portisculus beats the drum of a galley ship when Cullen watches them train. The mage Naomi feels an excited shiver across her arms when she sees Cullen, like frost forming on a blade of grass at dawn. Yvette, the serving girl, cannot help but ecstatic when she speaks to Cullen, like she is flying high above the clouds.’

‘Cole-’ began Jowan uneasily.

‘No.’ replied Cole determinedly, his eyes looking more than a little wild ‘They all feel different. All of them except for one. Your sister Mabel. When Mabel sees Cullen...it feels like a cold hand of death desperately reaching out for an apple on a tree that it cannot reach. The hand is cold. Very, very cold. And the hunger is gluttonous. Consuming and neverending.’

‘Well I-’ began Jowan.

‘No.’ interrupted Cole again, now looking extremely distressed ‘You do not see, do you? All of this I have felt before. It feels the same. Why does Mabel’s feelings feel the same as those of… Josephine Montilyet?’

Jowan’s blood curdled at Cole’s words, and his breath caught for so long that the mage began to feel faint, his surroundings beginning to blur. Casting his eyes across the isolated area, his mind desperately wishing to escape, Jowan finally looked back towards Cole. The mage’s heart was pounding a million beats per second, and he could feel the sweat forming at the base of his neck.

‘I haven’t a clue.’ replied Jowan a little more softly and with a definite tremor in his voice.

Cole continued to glare at the mage. ‘You feel very nervous.’ he added darkly.

Jowan shook his head suddenly, dispersing the fear from his mind. ‘Forgive me Cole, but I find it a little uncomfortable of you talking about my sister in this manner.’ he replied sternly ‘I had suspected there was some fondness felt by Mabel towards the Commander, but apart from that I do not know what to say? I am shocked to hear your description of her affections, and rightly so wouldn’t you say? Am I nervous? Well, yes, you are making me so! I am also confused, for I do not know this Josephine that you speak of? What am I to make of all this? Tell me!’

‘I am sorry, I am not helping am I?’ apologised Cole, looking away miserably. ‘I used to understand what I was feeling when I could hear the thoughts. Now I am...so very, very confused. I need to talk to Varric about this, or Ophelia? I need to know why I am feeling this. Maybe it is me?’

‘No you are trying to help I am sure.’ reassured Jowan hastily ‘Before you talk to anyone, first let me talk to Mabel tonight. Perhaps I can see what you are picking up on? Truly all I want to do is help. I want to help you Cole. Will you let me?’

Cole’s expression softened and he nodded his head. ‘Yes I would like that.’ 

Throwing a curious look towards Jowan, Cole ran his hands lightly across the air in between him and the mage, his fingers wiggling in inquisitive swirls before suddenly turning his shoulder and walking to the entrance. Stopping in his tracks, Cole turned and nodded to the mage,

‘Your mask looks different today.’ observed Cole ‘I like this one much better.’

****

Entering his dark chambers that night Jowan breathed out a sigh of relief as he closed the door on the outside world. For the entire day Cole’s words had plagued him, a constant reminder that the sweet apple in his hand could be ripped away in a moment’s breath. And for what? For the foolish obsession of his companion, someone who was turning out to be more troublesome than he had anticipated.

A shadow stirred at the window beside the drawn curtains and fearfully Jowan raised his palm.

Esq quellian aard’maar!

A flame burst bright in his hand as Jowan prepared to use it on the unwelcome intruder. Groaning, he recognised the figure and the sparks died down once again. 

‘Jowan it’s me.’ called out Josephine fearfully.

‘Dammit Josephine! Did it ever occur to you that is was unwise to sneak up on a mage in their own chambers?’ he snapped ‘Why are you lurking in the shadows like a suspicious nug when I am not here?’

‘I needed to speak with you so I let myself in.’ she replied defensively.

‘Oh well, by all means be my guest.’ muttered Jowan sarcastically, making his way to his four poster bed. The mage lay down on his back, arms folded behind his head as he rested comfortably against the red damask pillows.

Josephine appeared very troubled. ‘I'm being sent to the Anderfels tomorrow morning on a diplomatic mission.’

‘And?’ replied Jowan wearily, adding dryly ‘Bring me back a present.’

‘You know what that means.’ scowled the Antivan. Moving closer to the bed, she thrust her hand out to him. Her fingers desperately clutched a small glass bottle filled with dark liquid. ‘You have to promise me to give this to Cullen.’ she begged ‘I do not know when I will return to Skyhold and he needs his second dose of the potion tomorrow evening.’

Jowan looked upon the Antivan with interest, as if an amusing puppet danced before him. She looked utterly miserable as she stood there, a small bottle clutched tight with white knuckles. Her outer shell looked bedraggled, not the spirited Mabel of happier days when Athalwolf was lost for words at her beauty and grace at the Orlesian Court. Days that Jowan was never actually privy to and should care to forget.

‘You seem less...jovial than I would have expected?’ Jowan observed with an amused eyebrow ‘You have Cullen now, shouldn’t you be dancing for joy or whatever one does when they have ensnared their heart’s delight?’. The mage waved his hand flippantly in the aii. Running his fingers across his bottom lip, he added with a dark smile ‘And yet I recognise that aura of dissapointment. I recognise it all too well.’

‘It’s...nothing.’ replied Josephine hastily, turning to the bedside table to place athesmall bottle down on its surface.

‘Good,’ shrugged Jowan, closing his eyes as he relaxed ‘I did not care to be burdened with your miserable woes.’

‘The potion is working but I...I expected more.’ blurted out Josephine ‘Cullen lusts over me but nothing further. There is no tenderness, it is almost like his heart is closed off to me? I wanted Cullen to spend time getting to know me. To court me. You know, to take an interest in my likes and dislikes, and my opinions on current issues, fashion, culture, food, the theatre, religion, music, and oh I don’t know, just life!’

‘Can you blame him?’ muttered Jowan dryly ‘Just you talking about it is boring me somewhat painfully.’

‘I want Cullen to know me!’ she cried out.

Furiously the mage sat up. His companion had already outstayed her welcome. ‘Which part of you precisely would you like Cullen to know? You are a traitorous ex-ambassador of Skyhold who unleashed a demon into the realm, took over the body of another and is now pretending to be Mabel Guildersleeve, who may I add is now dead. Is there anything going on in that thick-witted skull of yours? Who exactly do you want Cullen to get to know? I dare say he would rather be spared the shameful details.’

‘Cullen is not filled with affection,’ cried out Josephine ‘he’s...he’s filled with an obsession!!!’

‘Well there you are, you have plenty in common.’ sneered Jowan. Casting an icy glare at his companion, the mage shook his head in reproach. ‘It is a poultice of lust for crying out loud. What in the blazes did you expect would have happened?!’

The Antivan shook her head. ‘I suppose I expected more affection. What I experience with Cullen feels cold and unnatural. It is entirely lust and nothing else. He acts almost like he is possessed.’

‘Hence the name of the potion.’ 'replied Jowan irritably ‘You forced Cullen to lust after Josephine. It was never going to be a union based on flourishing admiration and respect.’

‘Is there another potion perhaps? Blood magic? Perhaps we could we ask a demon to help?’ she suggested desperately ‘I just need Cullen’s heart to soften a bit.’

Running his hands through his dark hair, Jowan groaned in frustration. ‘You cannot make someone fall in love with you, I told you this from the start. Love is something that develops inside of you. It is the nourishment of one’s soul. To feel….’. The mage grew quiet, recalling the words of Cole. ‘Im sorry, what you ask for is impossible.’

Josephine grew cold as she looked upon Jowan. ‘Fine. Then please do this one favour for me, will you? Put some drops of the poultice into Cullen’s food or wine. Tomorrow in the evening. The potion has only started working and I am already torn away from him. Will you promise to do this for me?’

Jowan threw Josephine a brief nod before easing back onto the pillows, turning his attention towards the ceiling. ‘Fine tomorrow it is.’ he muttered ‘Now go, I am tired.’. Looking back to her he added in a gentler, if not remorseful tone. ‘Fare well. Have a safe journey Josephine.’

The Antivan threw a brief nod towards the mage. Looking like a thousand thoughts were already consuming her mind, she quickly departed the bedroom, leaving the mage to finally be alone with his thoughts once more.

Turning, Jowan’s face grew dark as he beheld the concoction on the table. He knew what he needed to do. What needed to be done. However he could not shake the twinge in his gut that felt suspiciously like a pang of guilt. Stranger things had happened, but even he was surprised and more than a little uneasy at this new sense of morality.


	26. The Truth Shall Set You Free

A terrible storm had passed over Skyhold that night, coming over the Frostback Mountains from the Dales and pounding the keep with torrential rain, hail and strong winds. The many concealed holes in the ceilings now sprang to life with dripping water, and never so much as in the war room. Leliana and Cassandra had made the unpleasant discovery that their room of council had transformed into a bathhouse of sorts, and they were unfortunately required to stand amongst the buckets of water and soggy sheets scattered on the ground until their companion arrived. The pair looked tired, wishing there would be a moment’s peace on the horizon but suspecting there would be anything but.

‘Leliana. Cassandra.’ called out an Orlesian voice, and the pair looked up to see a mage lingering at the entrance of the war room, cloaked in a black velvet robe with a purple crest of the Inquisition on his breast. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me here at such short notice.’ 

‘Of course Lord Athalwolf. Do come in.’ replied Cassandra, beckoning him in with a sweep of her hand ‘You mentioned it was urgent?’

Jowan hesitated, casting his eyes uneasily to his companions. ‘Forgive me, I have not slept all night questioning whether to talk to you both or not. Even now I am at a loss for words so I shall just come out with it. Yes, perhaps that is the best way? Mabel has given me some cause for...concern. My sister asked me to do something before she departed for the Anderfels and it has made me quite uneasy. She swore me to secrecy but I cannot ignore this. I feel she has been led astray from the proper behaviour of her usual self.’. The mage brought his eyes sharply to his companions ‘In truth, Mabel has been acting rather odd for quite some time.’

‘Odd?’ replied Leliana in surprise ‘What do you mean odd?’

Jowan shook his head. ‘Where does one begin? Well for one, her decision to come here. I was more than a little taken aback. Mabel has not always been happy with the politics surrounding the Orlesian Court but she is an avid lover of the game. One day she is telling me how excited she was to return to Halamshiral, and then the next...she wants to move to Skyhold?’

‘She sent a letter quite determined to aid our cause.’ informed Leliana ‘Perhaps she concealed her true sentiments from you?’

‘Well that is the very thing.’ frowned Jowan ‘We do not have secrets, not Mabel and I. We were visiting our parents at Ashcombe Estate and taking a break from court for a few weeks when all of a sudden she makes this decision. She had never even mentioned it before then.’

‘Perhaps she had not mentioned it to you?’ observed Cassandra ‘Perhaps Leliana is right and Mabel concealed this from you?’

‘No you don't understand, there are no secrets between us.’ replied Jowan determinedly ‘I assure you it is the truth. When Mabel announced to me that she wanted to go to Skyhold, she had already sent word to you. Do you not see? Mabel does not make decisions of this import without discussing it with me. Or her family.’. The mage went quiet, adding morosely ‘She even went so far as to tell me not follow her here to Skyhold.’

Leliana frowned. ‘She told you to stay in Halamshiral? Were you fighting at the time?’

‘Of course not, we never fight.’ replied Jowan. The mage look threw a sad, if not utterly melancholy look towards his companions ‘She told me her request to join Skyhold included me, but she did not feel I needed to join her. We have never been apart, and then all of a sudden she decides to leave her life and me? I had to beg her to let me join her here.’

‘Beg her?’ remarked Leliana in surprise ‘That does not sound like Mabel. She adores you.’

‘We adore each other.’ replied Jowan passionately ‘I do not want to say it but she has been acting odd ever since our stay at Ashcombe Estate. She started to become so secretive. There are other things.’

‘What things?’ asked Cassandra, looking more and more confused.

‘Mabel would go off by herself into the valley for hours at a time,’ informed Jowan ‘and never say why. I am ashamed to say I followed her one day and she was with some people who I did not recognise. It is not like Mabel to keep secrets from me, let alone mingle in company without me. We do everything together.’

‘Who were these people?’ asked Leliana ‘Perhaps they were just some friends coming to say hello?’

‘I don’t know.’ shrugged Jowan ‘There was a man and a woman. The man was tall, with dark hair and sickly white skin. The woman sounded Antivan but not the man. It struck me as odd that there was an Antivan in the Orlesian countryside on our estate. Call me paranoid?'

Leliana threw an urgent glance to Cassandra as her posture stiffened upon hearing the description.

‘Did the woman have black hair and tanned brown skin, and the man straight hair just above his shoulders?’ asked Leliana fearfully.

‘Why...uh, yes.’ replied Jowan in surprise ‘How did you know?’

‘Leliana.’ warned Cassandra sharply, her brow creasing heavily with lines of concern 'It's them.' 

‘I know.’ replied Leliana fearfully, running her hands through her hair desperately. Her green eyes darted hastily to Athalwolf. ‘Did you hear what they were talking about?’ she asked urgently ‘Did Mabel ever mention them? What they discussed? Please if you can tell us anything else that happened?’

Jowan shook his head. ‘No she never said and I was not supposed to know about them. All I know is Mabel has been distant and different since then. Im sorry to trouble you both with this, but I did not know what to make of it. I would never have even burdened you with such issues until last night. That was when Mabel gave me this.’

Moving to the war table, Jowan drew his hand into the pocket of his robes and produced a small glass bottle. Placing it firmly on the table, he stepped back from it. It was the poultice of lust that Josephine had been feeding Cullen.

‘What is that?’ frowned Leliana, looking at the bottle suspiciously.

‘I do not know.’ confessed Jowan ‘Mabel asked me to give a few drops of it to Cullen in his wine tomorrow evening. I know my sister. She would never do something like this, let alone ask me to do it. I do not have to be a mage to suspect she is doing something to the Commander. But what? And why?’

‘What is that?’ murmured Cassandra, taking the bottle from the table and holding it up to the light of the window. The liquid revealed a red tinge in its black and murky depths.

‘I was hoping you may be able to help me find out?’ asked the mage ‘Mabel said all I needed to do was put three drops into Cullen’s wine. She promised me the less I knew the better, and that if I loved her I would do this for her.’. Jowan threw a distraught look to his companions ‘I dearly love my sister but I also fear for her. I want her safe and out of any potential trouble before this gets worse. That is why I am here, and why I hope you will help?’

‘I cannot believe it.’ murmured Leliana, appearing entirely shocked ‘For Mabel to do something like this?’

‘There is something else.’ added Jowan. Looking to the door, he called out. ‘Cole would you come in?’

With blonde hair matted across his brow, as if he was trying to hide beneath it, Cole appeared at the door, a sombre look on his face as he approached the group cautiously.

‘Cole came to me earlier and revealed some frightening revelations about Mabel and her interest in Cullen.’ informed Jowan ‘Cole if you would be so kind as to explain?’

‘Cole?’ encouraged Cassandra ‘What did you sense?’

Cole looked uneasily at the ground, digging his boot in between a crack of stone. ‘You are not going to like what I have felt. That is to say I cannot read minds anymore. But I can remember how people felt before I became human. I remember this person's feelings well. Mabel’s feelings towards Cullen feeling exactly like the feelings of...Josephine Montilyet.’

‘Andraste preserve us.’ cried out Leliana, turning to Cassandra wildly 'What has she done?'

‘This is not happening.’ muttered Cassandra darkly ‘Cole tell me you are not saying what I think you are saying?’

‘But I already said it?’ frowned Cole in confusion ‘They feel the same. Nobody feels the same.’

‘Unless they are the same.’ replied Leliana wretchedly, her hands drawing into two tight fists. 

‘Is it possible that my sister is not who she is?’ asked Jowan fearfully ‘And if that is true then where is my dear sister!? And who is this Josephine that could be in my sister?!’

‘We do not know anything yet.’ reassured Leliana quickly ‘Let us find out what is in this bottle first. It might be nothing?’

‘Surely you cannot expect me to stand by and just wait?!’ appealed Jowan, rolling up his sleeves in agitation ‘I need to do something. If my sister is in trouble I need to save her.’

‘Athalwolf please, you must be patient, just until we can find out for certain what is in this bottle.’ remarked Leliana gently ‘Mabel is making her way to Hossberg as we speak, we cannot do anything at present. I know you are concerned about your sister. You did the right thing to tell us. Now let us try and get to the bottom of this.’

Jowan nodded silently, a heavy sigh on his lips ‘Please do not hesitate on this. And if I can help in any way, you must let me. I will await your instruction.’. Looking to Cole he added ‘Thank you, friend, for your help.’

Cole nodded, turning to join Jowan back into the hall, leaving Leliana and Cassandra in shock at the table.

‘Its them, isn’t it?’ ' gasped Cassandra in horror ‘Josephine and Jowan have been working with Mabel. Or worse, that Josephine is Mabel.’

‘Perhaps?’ replied Leliana fearfully ‘We cannot say for sure.’

‘But Athalwolf’s description of those two strangers Mable was speaking to? It is more than a little coincidental?’

Leliana frowned, unable to make sense of the matter. ‘What could they possibly gain from all this? Are they trying to poison Cullen? Is this their revenge perhaps? Josephine and Jowan most likely would like to see him suffer.’

‘Cullen is acting strange, but not sick.’ pointed out Cassandra ‘Can we dismiss what Cole said?’

‘Cole thinks Mabel is Josephine.’ observed Leliana fearfully ‘If it were true it would be terrible. The Guildersleeves could start a war with the Inquisition if it turned out something happened to their only daughter. Not to mention Josephine has been right under our noses the entire time and we never even suspected a thing!’

‘What do we do with this bottle and whatever is in it?’ asked Cassandra ‘Should we take Cullen to the infirmary? He might be poisoned?’

Leliana frowned, looking at the bottle. ‘No, we do nothing. Let us see what comes of it. Whatever the potion was meant to do, we will find out soon enough when Cullen fails to receive it. He is alive and perfectly well at the moment. Until then, I will get some of my contacts to analyse this vial and see if they can tell us what it is.’

‘What about Athalwolf?’ frowned Cassandra ‘He fears for his sister. What if he sends word to his family?’

‘No I will make sure he has no contact.’ the spymaster reassured ‘His letters will be monitored. His parents must never know about this. No one must know about this. We will make Athalwolf see it is for the best that none of this is ever mentioned.’

‘Make him?’ muttered Cassandra, looking to her companion cynically.

‘Not like that.’ reassured Leliana ‘Athalwolf coming to us with Cole shows his concern, but also his responsibility to the Inquisition. He will not start a war if we can find the answers.’

‘What if we cannot?’ asked the Seeker doubtfully.

Leliana’s expression grew dark as she moved towards the window, casting her sombre gaze outside. ‘Cannot is not an option, Cassandra.’

****

A lone candle flickered dangerously in a lantern as silent figure walked briskly down the isolated stone cloisters that night. Every now and then the wind threatened to blow the flame out, only for it to rise strong once more, brighter than ever as it revealed the way forward. This was how she had to be. Consistent to the cause as a flame would ever burn. Passionate as the fire. As cleansing as the lick of molten light. Her enemies were numerous, and her hunger for the cause grew stronger with the more opposition she gained. There would be no sympathy, no weakness. If even a whisper of chaos passed her way she would quash it in the savage flames of her commitment to the cause.

A cold wind brushed passed her face and with a determined step Leliana pressed forward into the night. Her thoughts had been frantic since Athalwolf had presented his concerns to the council. Never had the spymaster ridden so hard or so fast as she did the next day, descending into The Dales to meet with a contact, an alchemist of great expertise. After many hours of testing, the remainder of the bottle was handed back to Leliana and an answer to her questions. The poultice was that of blood magic, mostly likely one of desire. Upon hearing the words Leliana’s heart had dropped, for she already suspected as much but dreaded the truth. The truth did not set her free. Not this time. The truth bound her to a course she feared. One way or the other, her hand was now forced.

‘Oh Josie, why could you not have just come to me?’ whispered Leliana sadly, ascending the steps of the battlements.

Returning to Skyhold late, she was determined no more time could be wasted. Cullen had to be told. Leliana watched on helplessly as the flame blew out, the cold wind of the battlements extinguishing it in delight.

Approaching the Commander’s door, the spymaster knocked loudly and was greeted with a muffled voice from within.

‘Cullen?’ she called out ‘Cullen it's me. Can I come in?’

The spymaster waited patiently as she heard a figure shuffle down the ladder of the loft on the other side of the door, finally unlocking the bolt before dragging the heavy door open. With tousled waves of sandy hair scattered wildly and tired amber eyes, Cullen appeared more than a little woebegone. Apparently roused from his slumber by the knocking, the ex-templar was sleepy as he stood there bare chested.

‘Leliana.’ yawned Cullen ‘What hour is it?’

‘Past midnight. Sorry for the late hour but I have to speak with you.’

Nodding, Cullen allowed the spymaster to pass into the dark study. Rubbing his shoulders achingly, he moved over to light the candles on his desk to afford some luminosity into the otherwise blackened room.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Leliana, looking over Cullen intently ‘One of the messengers mentioned you had been in your quarters for most of the day?’

‘My insides have been churning since daybreak but I feel a little better now.’ informed Cullen ‘I think I've been asleep since midday? Everything has been so cloudy as of late.’. Cullen sighed heavily, stretching his arms with a yawn ‘In Kirkwall I would often go into this depressed state, so depressed that time itself felt like it stood still and yet when I awoke from it I would realise days, weeks, even months, had passed by. Sometimes I would even forget what I did in those cloudy moments. I fear I might have had another episode.’

‘No.’ replied Leliana bitterly ‘I think I now know what has happened and this is not going to be easy for you to hear.’

Cullen looked over to the spymaster, his expression of confusion suddenly transforming into a frown as he anticipated dire news from his companion.

‘Oh this will be good.’ sighed Cullen as he eased himself into the wooden chair at his desk ‘Come on. Out with it.’

Leliana nodded as she sat down also, drawing a seat opposite him at his desk. ‘SImply put,' she began 'you were poisoned.' 

Cullen chuckled. 'Good one. No I feel like it, but seriously what have you to tell me?'

The spymaster remained steadfast, looking seriously at the Commander. 'It's true Cullen, you were poisoned.' 

‘What?!’ replied Cullen, casting a frown to the spymaster ‘Is this a joke?’

‘Athalwolf Guildersleeve came to Cassandra and I a few days bacl.’ explained Leliana ‘He was concerned about Mabel. Apparently she had asked Athalwolf to drug your wine while she was away in Hossberg.’

Cullen shook his head in confusion. ‘Why would she want to do that!? Did I do something to offend her?’

‘Athalwolf informed us that Mabel had been acting strange since before they arrived here at Skyhold.’ explained Leliana ‘She was meeting with two strangers in Orlais. Two strangers that we now believe to be Josephine and Jowan.’

‘Maker’s breath, were they trying to murder me with poison?’ asked Cullen in bewilderment ‘Is that what Mabel was doing?’

‘No.’ reassured Leliana ‘Initially I thought that too. To seek revenge. However I fear what has taken place is just as disturbing.’

‘Explain.’ ordered Cullen, straightening uncomfortably in his seat.

‘I think Mabel is not actually Mabel.’ continued Leliana ‘I think Mabel is actually...Josephine.’

‘What!?’ yelled out Cullen, bolting up from his seat. The Commander looked furious as he glared at Leliana. ‘You are joking?’. Beginning to pace the room, Cullen shook his head in disbelief ‘Please Leliana, tell me you are joking?’

‘No Cullen, I'm telling you the truth.’ replied Leliana gently 'I'm sorry, she deceived us all.'

‘That fucking wench has been here, in Skyhold, under some disguise?’ he exclaimed angrily ‘Pretending to be Mabel Guildersleeve? How is that even possible?’

‘I think Jowan has aided Josephine in taking the form of the Mabel Guildersleeve so she could return here to Skyhold.’ informed Leliana uneasily ‘So she could poison you with this.’

With delicate fingers, Leliana placed the small glass bottle on the table that Jowan had given her.

‘What is that?’ asked Cullen, growing more uneasy as the answer already began to seep into his mind.

‘It is a potion of desire.’ the spymaster answered ‘My source in the Dales confirmed it today, and I came here to tell you the moment I returned to Skyhold.’

Cullen looked deathly white, the harsh reality now sinking in. ‘Josephine used this on me to desire Mabel Guildersleeve…which was in fact Josephine? Andraste preserve me, what is wrong with that woman?’. The ex-templar paused, clenching his fist into a tight ball before ramming it hard against the desk. ‘The chocolates.’ muttered the Commander in revelation before laughing bitterly ‘Maker’s fucking breath, it was the chocolates.’

‘Chocolates?’ queried Leliana.

Laughing bitterly, he ran his palms over his eyes in disbelief. ‘Mabel gave me a thank you gift a week back. Orlesian chocolates. Ever since my head has been fucked up. I thought it was going mad. But not, it appears it was just some good old poison.’

Leliana sighed .‘So that is how she made you consume it?’

‘What of Athalwolf?’ frowned Cullen ‘How do we know he isn’t Jowan in disguise?’

‘No Athalwolf came to us because he was concerned about Mabel.’ replied Leliana ‘Mabel…I mean Josephine asked Athalwolf to poison your wine while she was away in Hossberg. Athalwolf was worried about her. If he were Jowan in disguise why would he risk exposing himself? It makes no sense. No I think poor Athalwolf was left in the dark and poor Mabel was an unwilling victim.’

‘So that bastard malificar is out there still.’ scathed Cullen 'Once again he lights a fire under our matress and then flees.'

‘We have one of them at least?’ pointed out Leliana darkly ‘I have sent my agents to bring Josephine back to Skyhold swiftly and silently. Now we wait until she arrives.’

‘I want to be there when you interrogate her.’ ordered Cullen.

'So do I.' reassured Leliana.

Looking absolutely deflated, the Commander eased down onto the stone floor. Back resting heavily against the bookshelf of his study he breathed out deeply as he tried to come to terms with what had happened.

‘Cullen, I'm sorry this has happened to you.’ remarked Leliana ‘For Josephine to do this to you....are you okay with all of this?

‘I mindlessly fucked a woman that I loathe for a few days Leliana,’ muttered Cullen darkly ‘it's not the best feeling around. I recall a similar uneasiness in Kirkwall between the abuse of lyrium, whisky and women. A cloudy haze of debauchery and me realising I should have known better.’

‘This was different.’ pointed out Leliana ‘Josephine is a snake. She deceived you.’

‘She took advantage of my weakness,’ muttered Cullen ‘can I truly take none of the blame? I wanted to fuck Mabel, but I also knew Ophelia and everyone in damnable Skyhold would know about it. I knew what I wanted and everything else ceased to matter. I did not care.’. Shaking his head bitterly, he looked to the Spymaster. 'I'm not even slightly attracted to the woman. She's not my type. I had my type already and I was happy.'

‘The potion made you lose judgement. It forced you into wanting Mabel. Josephine is to blame, not you.’

‘Last time I accept chocolates from anyone.’ muttered Cullen bitterly.

‘Last time I hire an ambassador.’ added Leliana. Miserably she too sank to the floor to sit beside Cullen. The two of them rested on the stone, their backs eased against the books, and both looking utterly miserable in their woeful lament.

‘I feel so foolish,’ murmured Leliana ‘I should have been more alert.’

Cullen turned his head to the spymaster, his expression growing softer as he looked upon her.

‘Leliana you are the smartest woman I know,’ he informed gently ‘but I don’t even think you could have suspected Josephine would have been Mabel in disguise.’

‘If not me, then who?’ she scorned ‘My job is to always be three steps ahead of everything and everyone. Every time I am fooled, I become more the fool.’

‘Then we are in good company tonight.’ chuckled Cullen bitterly ‘I still cannot fathom why Josephine would go to all this effort just to be with me? Is there a compliment in there somewhere?’

‘No, just the actions of someone who has lost their mind to obsession.’ scorned Leliana ‘Pathetic.’

Cullen shook his head, still in disbelief. ‘I suppose I should count my blessings that I'm still alive? I mean, considering what she could have done? The fates have a strange way of showing one’s hand of luck.’

‘It is good to hear you can joke about all this.’ muttered Leliana.

‘What else can I do?’ chortled Cullen, lifting an eyebrow ‘Yet you refuse to laugh with me?’

‘Laughter is abundant in the mouths of fools.’ she replied bitterly.

‘As evident by more than one person I know.’ agreed Cullen, his face growing dark once more.

‘Oh Cullen, I am so sorry.’ whispered Leliana, running her fingers over his large hand and squeezing it tight ‘You have been through enough already. My job is to know secrets and I failed to see the biggest one in front of us. I failed you. I failed to protect you.’

Cullen held his friend’s hand firmly, interlacing his large fingers through her delicate ones. ‘You have never failed me Leli.’ Cullen reassured ‘Not once.’

Leliana smiled a sad smile ‘Perhaps…but I am weak and I know that will always affect the Inquisition.’

‘Says the strongest woman I know.’ scoffed Cullen, pushing her shoulder with his.

‘No it's true. Did I ever tell you about the first hunt I went on?’ asked Leliana ‘When I was sixteen and Marjolaine gave me my first bow.’

‘Marjolaine? The bard that you spent time with in Orlais all those years ago?’ recalled Cullen 'No I don't recall that particular story?'

‘Yes, her.’ replied Leliana sadly ‘We went on a hunting trip into the forests of Quillian to allow me practice with the weapon. I foolishly wounded a deer that the hunters were tracking, the arrow from my bow pierced its jugular but it was still alive. That poor creature, wounded on the forest floor, the fear in its eyes as it lay there surrounding by the savage hunt. I was ashamed at the innocence I had killed and petrified in the wake of my actions. I could not end the animal’s life. Marjolaine ended the creatures suffering, running her blade swiftly. She told me never delay the inevitable. If you strike, strike.’

‘Wise words.’ nodded Cullen ‘although perhaps better served with a large portion of hindsight?’

‘I could not strike, not even when the beast was there before me. That is who I am. Who I truly am. I am ashamed of my weakness. I am like an oyster. A hard shell but inside? Soft.’

Bringing her knees up, Leliana cradled her face in her hands. This was her vulnerability and she showed it to no one, with the exception of one. Cullen.

The ex-templar drew his strong arm around the spymaster’s shoulders affectionately and pulled her into a warm hug. ‘I believe that soft center is the heart, Leli.’ 

‘Who needs a heart?’ muttered the spymaster ‘Pointless objects.’

‘I dare say anyone who wants to remain alive may argue with you on that one.’ mused Cullen ‘Why are you letting Josephine get to you like this? I haven’t seen you this way in years, not since...’

‘Greenfell? When I came across you at the Chantry.’ nodded Leliana ‘Pathetic, no? There you were recovering from your horrific experience at the Kinloch Hold and I show up even more troubled, more damaged and in more need of healing.’

Cullen's expression grew dark. ‘Sierra murdered you in that damn temple. I think you were doing as well as anyone would expect when returning from the dead with no explanation other than their faith to guide them.’

Leliana threw Cullen a warm smile ‘I still remember the first thing you said to me when I arrived at the Chantry.’

‘You look like death.’ chuckled Cullen in recollection, nodding his head in amusement. ‘Well how was I to know it was true?’. Playfully, he squeezed her tight. ‘We got through the hardest times there, you and I. Do you remember our promise?’

‘Never give up.’ replied Leliana softly, her voice tremoring ever so slightly as she recalled the moment.

‘Never give up.’ echoed Cullen with a nod ‘You can hate yourself for an eternity and call yourself weak or whatever nonsense you wish, but I know none of it is true. You helped me through my darker moments. Someone without a heart would have never done the same. I’m glad that you have a heart Leli. I may not be here now were it not for that heart of yours.’

'Then it shall beat strong for the both of us as long as I live.' she vowed. Leliana reached over and ran her hand playfully through Cullen’s wavy hair ‘You and I have seen the worst of what Thedas has to offer, haven’t we?’

‘It never stopped us fighting.’ shrugged Cullen ‘We took it in our stride the best way we knew how. To keep on fighting.’

‘We are getting older now Cullen.’ frowned Leliana ‘We should of known better. When Jowan and Josephine fled, we should have suspected something like this could have happened. Josephine and I were close once, and yet here I was chatting away to Mabel without the slightest inkling it was actually someone that I knew.’

The Commander scoffed. ‘It's not your fault that Josephine took the path she ended up taking. I know you feel guilt but you must not apportion the blame to yourself.’

‘Who knows how much we will lose when this all unravels.’ observed Leliana bitterly.

‘Let us get that loathsome creature back in Skyhold first. One step at a time.’ declared Cullen. ‘Maker’s breath, what a mess this is. I’ve lost more than a week of clarity though, haven’t I? A lot more.’

His eyes looked sad, skimming over the dark room.

Leliana could tell what her friend was thinking. ‘Ophelia?’ 

‘Ophelia.’ affirmed Cullen darkly.

‘She will understand.’. Leliana nodded, adding with a smirk ‘You have a way with her.’

‘She is in Ferelden with Michel de Chevin.’ muttered Cullen ‘I can safely say I do not have a way with her.’

‘I suppose she noticed you and Mabel?’ nodded Leliana ‘Let’s face it, we all found it hard not to.’

‘Maker’s breath, I am utterly ashamed of my behaviour.’

‘Ophelia will understand.’ reassured Leliana ‘Cassandra perhaps not so much, I think she has been permanently scarred by your public displays of affection in the war room.’

Cullen grimaced and Leliana giggled.

‘Do you want to know a secret?’ grinned Leliana, reaching up to grab a bottle of wine from the top shelf of the bookcase. Easing herself back down next to Cullen, she handed the bottle to the Commander. Anticipating her request, he pulled the tight cork with his teeth, spitting out the object before handing it back to his friend.

‘Secrets from the spymaster?’ taunted Cullen ‘I dare say this shall be good? They always are.’

Leliana took a large sip from the bottle before handing it to Cullen.

‘They always come back, you know?’ she informed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

‘They?’ asked Cullen with a raised brow, taking a deep sip of wine.

‘Oh that’s right, I keep on forgetting you only enjoy keeping one pet at a time.’ teased Leliana.

‘It’s funny how I never seem to forget that you, Mistress, keep so many.’ teased Cullen back, nudging her with his elbow.

‘What can I say, I am a generous Mistress.’ smiled Leliana ‘As I was saying, your pet can go off into the world but once they have experienced what their master has given them they can never forget. Always in the back of their mind. Lingering and teasing them until they are desperately craving that connection once more. Nothing quite compares to that so they always return for more.’

Cullen chuckled, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip and handed the wine back to his companion ‘Is that so? Pray tell me where are all your pets then?’

‘Oh they are around.’ she grinned ‘You wouldn’t expect a spymaster to reveal all her secrets now, would you?’

The ex-templar nodded with a laugh before his expression drew somewhat somber. ‘No, but things have changed with Ophelia and I.’ he murmured ‘Our bond had grown stronger.’

'Love does not fade away so fast.' informed Leliana, casting a somewhat colder look to her companion.

‘I told Ophelia I would never betray her with another.’ Cullen muttered, throwing a glance to Leliana and catching her green eyes. ‘She would never understand.' he added softly 'And now I have openly been with Mabel. Do you not see? I am a raging tempest and she a loose leaf always scattering in my chaos.’

Leliana sighed. ‘Always the storm, never the calm. You and I both.’

‘I''ve taken her for granted at the best at times, and this latest nightmare adds to a rather long list of misdemeanors.’ observed Cullen ‘She is the passion that sings to my ruin.’. Closing his eyes he took another sip from the bottle.

‘Then like we agreed, never give up. Never stop fighting.’ encouraged Leliana.

Amber eyes opening wide, the ex-templar looked to his companion with determination. ‘I intend to. Mark my words, I intend to.’

Throwing Leliana an appreciative smile Cullen rested his head against his friend's, his sandy waves falling onto her ginger tresses. The spymaster sighed happily, nuzzling her head in the crook of Cullen’s neck, a content smile on her lips as they sat there peacefully in the dark study.

‘Well,’ murmured Leliana ‘if you do not intend on giving up just yet then I suppose neither shall I.’


	27. Be Careful What You Wish For

  


The black stage coach rolled along the bleak dirt road, ominous and unremarkable, unknown by the occasional passer-by that the stranger within was capable of dark and terrible deeds. Of course when the occasional passer-by did catch a glimpse of the woman within, they would never have believed she was a sinister creature capable of anything even slightly inimical. A captivating lady with long black hair spilling down her shoulder, ghostly white skin and sparkling green eyes, she was a rare beauty incapable of anything untoward. For the outer shell always deceived man, and fooled him to the very end. Nothing so sweet could ever be sour, a red ripe apple on the tree surely would harbour no worm within? Alas, they were none the wiser, deceived by their eyes time and time again. For when one’s sight betrays, lack of clarity inevitably prevails.

On the Imperial Highway travelling through Orlais the black stage coach came to a grinding halt in the early hours of evening. Josephine had been asleep and was awoken by the sudden jerk of the carriage. Whispered voices had sounded outside near the coach box up front, and moments later the doors had been wrenched open and a hooded figure entered the vehicle. Before she could protest, the figure had produced a rope and bound her hands on her lap, warning her another rope could be secured against her mouth if she cried out. Her desperate whispers of please let me go and where are you taking me were ignored as the hooded figure sat quietly opposite her. The jolt of the carriage commenced once more and continued to travel, although Josephine felt the vehicle turn around and return the way it had come. With a racing heart and fearful eyes, there was nothing left to do except watch the darkness of the night unfold, and try to forget the ever watchful eyes of the silent figure sitting before her.

The stage coach never stopped and when daybreak arrived she realised they were backtracking their path through Orlais. As the journey proceeded it became more and more apparent where she was now being taken. Back to Skyhold.

With anxious suppositions of her impending doom, Josephine feared her abrupt retrieval to the keep. What did the Inquisition know ? Had they found out she was Josephine? How did they find out? Was Jowan okay? Was he even alive? A day’s journey of fearful questions transformed into night once more, and still they continued to travel up the windy path of Gherlen’s Pass until finally the carriage came to a halt outside the large gates of Skyhold.

The figure before her covered her mouth with cloth, and placed a hessian sack over her head while she waited in panicky breaths. Josephine could hear the door to the carriage squeak open, and her companion exit the vehicle, the heavy crunch of gravel under their feet as they moved away. She felt a new set of rough hands grab her around the waist, pulling her out of the carriage. Her muffled yelps were silenced by the cloth across her mouth, and all she could do was kick her legs wildly. A loud rip sounded, the delicate purple silk of her dress being torn as she was heavily slung over her abductor’s shoulder, her feet quickly bound by a new rope, and finally she was carried away.

Unable to see where they were going, Josephine could only feel the heavy steps of her abductor walking over the stone courtyard of Skyhold, and then descending down some stairs. She could hear the click of a lock, and a heavy door opening, and then once more they descended down more stone stairs, until finally a rusty iron door could be heard swinging tiredly open. Josephine was placed down abruptly on the damp stone floor, shivering in dark as she waited.

Time ceased to exist after a while, when all was dark in her lonely mind and the only company being her ever faithful companion of fear. No matter how the Antivan tried to assess the situation, one thing was certain. She had been found out.

The swing of the metal door eventually creaked once more and the soft steps of a person approached, bending down to finally remove her hood. As the sack was lifted she was greet by a familiar face, who proceeded to remove her gag in deathly silence before standing back to observe Josephine with a cold face.

‘Leliana?’ remarked Josephine desperately, casting her eyes around the dank cell ‘What is going on? Why have I been brought here?’. Her heart dropped as she realised where she had been taken. ‘Why am I in the dungeons at Skyhold?’ 

‘Did you think you would get away with it?’ asked Leliana forthrightly, running her eyes intently over the woman before her. ‘Did you think we would not discover your little secret?’

‘Wh-what did I get away with?’ asked Josephine hesitantly ‘What secret?’

Leliana sighed, turning to sit down on the wooden bench in the cell. Keeping her eyes ever watchful on Josephine, Leliana continued to examine her silently.

‘Josephine, I know it is you.’ informed Leliana after a few moments of silence.

‘Josephine?’ remarked Josephine in confusion ‘N-no, I am Mabel. Remember, Mabel Guildersleeve? Is everything all right Leliana? Are you not feeling well? Why would you think I am this Josephine?’

‘You would still try to lie, even when it is over?’ scorned the spymaster ‘You are caught Josephine, you cannot pretend your way out of this. Athalwolf told us about you poisoning Cullen. My contacts informed me it was a potion of lust. I know it is you. Only someone as obsessed as you have proven to be would try such a thing.’

Turning pale, Josephine clutched her hands tight as she tried to gather her thoughts. ‘Athalwolf betrayed me?’ she whispered half to herself before turning her nervous eyes to the spymaster ‘No, you are wrong. I admit I liked the Commander, so I gave him a love potion.’. Josephine nodded nervously, casting her friend a small smile ‘We Orlesians do it all the time, there is nothing to it. I even had a silly love potion in one of my bags that I had purchased off an old crone some years ago. I'm sorry, it was a terrible thing to do. I admit it. But I am not this Josephine you speak of. I am Mabel Guildersleeve.’

‘Enough!’ hissed Leliana angrily ‘Cole sensed it was you, Josephine. He recognised you even in your concealment. We know it is you. There is no doubt here. We know it.’

Running her hands shakily through her hair, Josephine nodded silently. Petrified that all her plans were now unravelling before her and there was little she could do, she decided to not say another word. She remained quiet on the floor of the prison, unwilling to meet the frosty gaze of her friend. Eyes that were still pressed painfully on her as she desperately riddled her brain for a way to convince Leliana of her innocence.

‘Can you release Mabel Guildersleeve?’ asked Leliana ‘Is there a way to allow her to return her body? To allow you to return to yours?’

Tears rolling down her cheek, Josephine wiped them away before turning back to Leliana. ‘If I help will you let me go, Leliana.’ she reassured 'Anything you want to know but you must allow me to leave this place.'. Josephine threw her a meek smile ‘You would not keep me here for simply desiring Cullen? I was wrong, please let me go and I promise never to return.’

‘Can you release Mabel from the spell or not?’ repeated Leliana.

‘That depends on whether you help me escape?’ replied Josephine desperately 'Will you help me Leliana?'

Examining the woman on her knees, Leliana narrowed her eyes in anger. ‘No.’ she whispered coldly ‘I will not help you escape.’

‘There's a surprise.' scathed Josephine 'You were always such a snake. So judgemental of everyone around you. We were the best of friends! And yet the moment I make a mistake you treat me like Corypheus himself? Try to understand why I did what I did! Just try!' 

Leliana refused to be moved by the emotive plea. 'Can you bring Mabel back into her body or not?' 

Laughing deliriously, Josephine lifted her eyes to the dripping ceiling of the cell, knowing there was no way to barter her way out of this situation. 'No one can release Mabel. Jowan used blood magic. to take their form and their lives.’. Looking angrily at Leliana, she added darkly ‘Athalwolf is Jowan. That is why he betrayed me.’

Leliana shook her head. ‘No Athalwolf did not betray you. He was concerned about his sister, when you foolishly asked him to poison Cullen while you were away in Hossberg.’

Josephine started laughing in disbelief, her shrill voice resonating against the moss covered stone walls of the dungeon. ‘Oh he said that?’ she exclaimed ‘He was concerned. Leliana you idiot, Athalwolf is Jowan and he is trying to cover his tracks!’

The spymaster held her gaze sternly on Josephine, apparently not believing a word of what she had to say. ‘Where is Mabel Guildersleeve?’

‘She is dead. Dead as a door-nail!’ replied Josephine furiously ‘Even if I could help I would never do it for you, or the Inquisition. Look at how you all treated me?! You cast me out without cause or concern. I detest you all. No Leliana, even if it were my last option I would not aid you. I spit on the Inquisition and hope you all fail miserably.’

‘Oh Josie,’ murmured Leliana, her facing drooping ‘what has happened to you?’

Running a judgmental eye over her friend, she shook her head in disgust. ‘I woke up and realised the only way you get what you want from life is when you seize it.’

‘What did you actually gain?’ asked Leliana ‘Cullen still does not love you. You have nothing. You are nothing.’

Josephine scoffed. ‘No thanks to you. We were friends once. How could you have cast me out to effortlessly? I made a mistake. We all make mistakes.’ The prisoner shuffled on the dirt, moving closer to Leliana on her knees. ‘Jowan is Athalwolf,’ she reaffired ‘and he betrayed me. He betrayed you all. Please listen to what I am saying for it is the absolute truth.’

‘You are lying again.’ accused Leliana sharply ‘Athalwolf was worried about Mabel. If not for yourself, then at least tell us where Mabel is for Athalwolf’s sake?’

‘What does it matter, she is dead.’ muttered Josephine.

‘Where is Jowan?’ asked the spymaster ‘You do not owe him anything, so why are you protecting him? Can you guide is to where he is?’

Josephine threw a terrified eye to the Spymaster, as if she suddenly realised that nothing she said would be believed. ‘Andraste guide me...he has fooled you all, hasn’t he? Jowan wanted me to feed information from the Inquisition to the Red Templars.’

‘So he sent you here to act as Ambassador and feed him information.’ acknowledged Leliana ‘Did you?’

‘No,’ replied Josephine ‘yet now I wished I had hastened that task. I wish I had given every last detail to Samson. At least he treated us with respect.’

Leliana clenched her jaw in disgust, unable to look at the woman any longer. ‘If you do not tell me where Jowan is I cannot offer you clemency, Josephine. You need to help us to help yourself. Please, for your sake.’

‘I poisoned Cullen with a potion of lust made by Jowan.’ cried out Josephine ‘We intended to feed information from Skyhold to Corypheus via Samson and the Red Templars. Jowan took the form of Athalwolf, and I the form of Mabel. That is all. That is it! What more do you want Leliana?!!!’

‘Why would Jowan want to aid Corypheus?’ frowned Leliana ‘What part does he have to play in all this?’

‘Ask Athalwolf.’ begged Josephine.

‘Why would you protect Jowan?’ asked Leliana heatedly ‘He's not going to save you Josephine. Just tell me where he is!’

Josephine shook her head in disbelief. ‘What chance does the Inquisition have when it is being run by someone like you?! I hate Jowan more than my miserable life and now he has taken that away from me.’. Drawing her green eyes furiously to the spymaster she added ‘And yet, somehow I hate you all even more so. Perhaps I hope Jowan succeeds in ripping you all to shreds?’.

Looking utterly despondent, the spymaster arose from her seat and walked over to Josephine. Leliana knelt down before her friend, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

‘I am sorry Josie.’ she whispered remorsefully before standing up and moving to the gate of her cell. Throwing a dismal look at her friend, the spymaster turned and left.

‘Leliana?’ called out Josephine with a frown 'Wait come back! At least go and talk to Athalwolf. He is Jowan! Athalwolf is Jowan! I swear it!' 

Easing herself to sit on the ground, the Antivan miserably shivered in the draughty cell. Jowan had betrayed her and now abandoned her. Josephine laughed bitterly to herself, knowing she had been played. Of course for what reason, she did not know? Surely Jowan needed her as ambassador? Was that not what the whole plan had been about?

‘What does it matter. Everyone thinks he is sweet Athalwolf Guildersleeve. Maker curse that wretched monster.’

Time dragged on slowly in the dungeon, an hour or so passing with only the soft patter of a steady drip of water falling from the roof against a jutting rock in the wall of her cell. Eventually the Antivan was roused by this hypnotic sound as she heard footsteps approaching once more.

Turning her head to the entrance, Josephine gasped as she locked eyes with the Commander, appearing at the door of her cell.

‘Cullen, thank goodness you are here!’ she cried out ‘Leliana has gone mad. Positively mad! She thinks I am someone called Josephine.’

The Commander nodded silently, walking into the cell. The sound of his armour rustled in the quiet of the room, a foreboding presence as he towered over her. His eyes drew painfully hard onto Josephine, passing over her intensely as he moved beside her. In one hand, Cullen was holding a bundle of red cloth that had several items wrapped tightly up in it.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly, crouching down beside her.

Josephine looked around the cell fearfully. ‘No not at all. Oh Cullen you have to help me! Send word to my father Lord Byron that I am being held captive. You have to help me leave this place!’

The Commander nodded patiently as he carefully unwrapped the cloth parcel. ‘I want to help you, but first you must be famished. When was the last time you had food or drink? Here, have some bread and wine.’

Josephine hungrily accepted the bread held by the Commander, biting into the morsel with enthusiasm. Bringing the cup to her lips, Cullen aided Josephine as she drank heavily, gulp after gulp of sweet crimson liquid.

‘Cullen, you have to get me out of here.’ continued Josephine after she had finished her fill ‘I beg you. You care for me, I know it. And I care for you. Let us leave this place together.’

Cullen placed the chalice on the dirty floor and wearily sat down to join it, his eyes casting somberly onto the woman before him.

‘Spare me the charade Josephine, I know it is you.’ he informed darkly ‘We all know you have been pretending to be Mable Guildersleeve. Athalwolf never gave me the potion, my mind is quite clear now I assure you.’

Josephine looked away in shame. ‘Then...then I have nothing to say to you.’ she trembled.

A cold chuckle of disbelief, Cullen nodded in bitter acceptance at the lack of remorse of the Antivan. ‘You set a demon into the realm. A demon that will no doubt result in the deaths of many. Their deaths are on you, Josephine. Mabel Guildersleeve’s death is on you. What did she ever do to deserve that?’

‘I needed a way to return to you.’ appealed Josephine, her eyes softening as she looked helplessly at the Commander ‘I love you Cullen. All that I did I did for us.’

‘To return to me so you could drug me? Take away my free will?’ observed the Commander ‘Does that sound like something one would do to someone they loved?’

Josephine rubbed her face, frowning as she tried to focus her blurry eyes. ‘You never gave me chance.’ she yawned ‘All I wanted was one chance from you to get to know me. You forced me to do what needed to be done.’

‘That demon you released nearly killed us all on the Imperial Highway that day.’ continued Cullen sternly ‘What do you think would have happened to me and everyone across Thedas when Corypheus destroyed the Inquisition by your aid? Do you not see how your actions result in hurting us all, including me?’

‘I never wanted that.’ refuted Josephine ''I would have kept you safe. I never meant to hurt you.'

‘Then redeem yourself.’ appealed Cullen ‘Tell me where Jowan is?’

'You too?'. Josephine’s shoulders drooped as her head tilted forward. ‘No Cullen...Jowan is nowhere.’

Drawing a deep breath in his lungs Cullen nodded in silence, his face now emotionless as he stared at the ground.

Taking a sharp breath, Josephine startled as she looked around the room in confusion. ‘Cullen...where am I?’ she called out fearfully ‘It is so dark in here. I feel...so tired. I cannot keep my eyes open.’

‘You are just exhausted.’ reassured Cullen sombrely ‘You need rest. Just lie down and shut your eyes for a while.’

Josephine’s breathing grew deeper as her eyes lulled shut, only to open wide once more, her green eyes appearing bright. ‘Cullen I’m scared.’ she whispered fearfully ‘I don’t want to be in this place. Something isn't right, you must help me escape.’

The Commander drew his eyes onto the women before him, a deep sadness held within as he outstretched his hands towards her.

‘Shhh, come rest your head on my lap.’ suggested Cullen softly, directing Josephine to lay down.

With a soft smile on her lips Josephine shuffled over and placed her head on his lap, her black hair scattered messily as Cullen pulled the strands gently off her face.

‘I like my dreams. That is where you and I are happy together. Maybe that is the only place that we can be truly happy together...’ she murmured drowsily ‘All that I did was...out of love. I was drowning in your ocean and I did not know how to swim. Cullen I am sorry...I am sorry I was not the person you wanted me to be. Forgive me.’

Her black eyelashes fluttered as her eyes shut, her breathing growing heavier as she rested her head on Cullen’s lap. Deeper and deeper her breathing grew until it caught tight in her chest. Convulsing with a few small shudders, Josephine finally exhaled her last breath as her life depleted from her limp body. 

‘I forgive you, Josephine.’ Cullen murmured, his head lowered in reverence ‘Now go to the Maker, and may he and all the people you have hurt find it in their hearts to do the same.’


	28. Three Doves, Three Hearts

  


_I loved you wildly and in my unbridled passion I loved you blindly,_

_for you were the heat in my flesh, that burning desire._

_I would spare nothing, do anything,_

_convincing myself this weakness revealed the strength of my love._

_I desired you more than the food between my teeth, the air in my lungs,_

_to feel your presence were the tears of my soul._

_I craved you desperately, perhaps foolishly?_

_In my defence I was never one to ignore the intensities of my affections._

_They were capable of climbing the highest of peaks, sailing the roughest of waters,_

_stronger than stone, purer than flame._

_Your madness was my delirium,_

_that bitter sweet insanity felt in each and every breath._

_One small second that our eyes met,_

_fanned my fantasies into raging flames._

_Indeed your power over me was terrifying and beautiful,_

_ravishing my senses,_

_stealing my mind and replacing it with idolatry._

_Such a nimble thief of my heart, I was never aware until it was all too late._

_I did not desire your accomplishments as much as your failings,_

_desperately craving your darkest and savage hours._

_A vessel to pour all your struggles, fears and doubt into,_

_which I would transform into better days._

_Your eyes engulfed, your soul ensnared…_

_and I was completely in love with your beautiful chaos._

As the week drew to an end, Michel de Chevin and I returned once more to Skyhold. It's strange how a journey can go exceptionally fast when you are happy, and I was happy riding up the mountain side with the ex-chevalier by my side. Our few days spent in Ferelden had enabled us to grow close, and I recalled some of the most uncomplicated and quiet moments becoming some of the most cherished. The feel of Michel’s large fingers interlacing mine as we read a book side by side in the garden. Or the sweet scent of his smooth warm chest, and the heat I felt against my cheek when it was pressed against his beating heart as we lay in our bed. The kind words that he spoke to me, gracious and poetically thoughtful, respectful and considerate with ever the slightest hint of playfulness. The way Michel twirled one blond strand of hair at the base of his neck, turning it around and around his finger when he was peacefully resting and completely unaware I was secretly admiring him. His tender voice lulling me to sleep as his arm wrapped around my waist, cradling me so gently and so lovingly. I wanted to cherish each peaceful moment with the ex-chevalier and store them away in my mind, to recollect on colder moments that would inevitably come to pass when we returned to Skyhold.

As we rode back to the keep Michel would often slow his white horse to a halt just to lean over and plant a soft kiss on my lips, commenting on how beautiful I looked. Other times the ex-chevalier would reach out to hold my hand as we rode side by side, an intimate touch conveying more than words ever could. Sweet nothings that were substantial somethings to me. Of course as we drew closer to the Skyhold, I could feel my fingers grow icy and my expression less animated. The carefree days in Ferelden were fading away and in their stead was the unforgiving stronghold of reality.

_The dream was over but I did not want to wake up._

‘Here we are once again!’ announced Michel cheerfully, nodding to the guards as we rode through the gates into Skyhold.

‘Oh yes, It’s great to be back.’ I replied sarcastically, pulling my reins sharp and causing my horse to snort in disapproval. 'It'll be good to get settled back in and back to work.' 

The ex-chevalier grinned beside me, his deep blue eyes skimming across the stronghold before meeting mine. ‘You’re right, you are a terrible liar.’ 

Riding into the courtyard of keep, we were greeted with the familiar nods and waves of the citizens of Skyhold. More than a few soldiers and residents were elated to see the return of The Maister of Blades, and possibly the Inquisitor, although I secretly knew who the favourite was. Wherever Michel de Chevin went, friendliness and warmth inevitably followed. The Orlesian had a gift of being able to charm whomever he pleased, and perhaps that was the way the charismatic virtuoso played the game.

Arriving at the stables, Horsemaster Dennet was busy attending to a new herd of Brumbies discovered in the Dales and only managed to throw us a half brief nod before turning back to the wild neighing beasts. Their shiny black hair and muscular bodies were magnificent, but none so much as their passionate nature, kicking their hooves hard against the hay and dirt with a definite pride in their step. Michel and I dismounted as quickly as possible, handing our horses over to a skittish stable hand before walking over to the stairs of the stone keep.

Michel smiled as I stood before him, discreetly placing a soft kiss on my cheek. ‘Have dinner with me tonight? In my chambers, not the main hall. There's a nice table by my window that looks out onto a stone wall.’

Grinning, I ran my fingers affectionately through his blonde hair. ‘I’d love to.’ 

Turning to leave the ex-chevalier laughed as I refused to let go of his hand, and he turned once more to wrap his arms tightly around my waist.

‘You make it hard to leave your side.’ he observed, drawing his lips to mine in a less than discreet embrace. The ex-chevalier wasn't afraid of public intimacy. He pulled my into his arms, affectionately holding me.

‘Good,’ I grinned ‘that was my intention.'

Michel held me tighter to his chest. 'You don't even have to try, I long for you each time we part.'

Perhaps that being said by any other could be considered as just mere words, but with Michel I knew he meant it. He always made me feel special like that.

'Thank you again for the last few days. You have no idea what that meant to me. I just wanted to thank you.’

‘You already have.’ replied Michel, casting his deep blue eyes down at me mischievously. 'I must go, but I will see you soon'. Releasing his embrace, he placed placed a kiss on my cheek. ‘Be brave today. Do not let him upset you.’

With an affectionate nod of encouragement Michel turned, heading towards the soldiers barracks and leaving me to sigh at the advice of my companion. Cullen had a knack of upsetting me these days. Begrudgingly I ascended the stairs to the keep and up towards my room. Finally dragging the chamber door open, I realised I was home and it felt...lonely. Climbing up the stairs I dejectedly threw my satchel on the bed and retreated to my desk where a large pile of new letters welcomed me.

Whiling away an hour unpacking and rearranging the room, I was determined to waste as much time in my chambers before descending into the thick of the Inquisition once more. It was inevitable that the moment I left my room I would be called to the war council, where I would have to see Cullen and Mabel together. For all the courage Michel had tried to instill in me over the last few days it was all for naught. I still wished to do nothing but hide away.

A knocking on the door distracted my thoughts and my head was drawn towards the stairs. Bolting from my chair, I hurried down the steps anticipating a knightly Orlesian face on the other side of the door. With a foolish smirk on my face I swung open the frame, and my grin transformed into one of sudden uneasiness.

‘Cullen.’ I remarked, almost fearfully, looking wide-eyed at the ex-templar standing before me. 'Wh-what are you doing here?"

The Commander stood confident, his sandy coloured hair catching the midday light coming across in through the arch window. Everything about the man was robust, from his towering frame and his wide chest, to his large shoulders and strong muscular neck. The silver cuirass on his chest was pristine, revealing a distorted image of myself, and his solid plated gauntlets and pauldrons were secured tight, making the man somewhat larger than life itself. His magnificent crest of raven feathers covered his neck and shoulders, a dark gorget of the mysterious, an enigma wrapped in the embrace of a messenger of shadows.

Cullen’s beautiful melting amber eyes drew me in like a whirlpool, a soft reminder of that tender side of the man encased in his hardened exterior. A window to his soul, and Cullen’s was a beautiful soul, calling out to mine whenever I beheld his eyes. His serious and deep set forehead with heavy eyebrows, and his bottom lip that was fuller than the top where the white scar ran diagonally across his right upper side. The way his broad jaw muscles bulged whenever he swallowed, sending an excited shiver across my skin. The sandy coloured lashes that matched the colour of his rugged, unshaven stubble of his chiselled jaw and chin. The waves and curls that his glorious thick tresses beheld, a dishevelled mop of exquisite delight, begging to be teased and touched. And his smirk, that ever present smirk that the ex-templar held, a wicked keeper of amused secrets that he showed to many yet revealed to few. An amused curl on the lip, a tortured soul still entertained by life despite what the fates had dealt him. No one could steal that mischievous nature away, deeply imprinted in that diabolical smirk.

‘Ophelia.’ replied Cullen, placing his hand somewhat formally to rest on the hilt of his sword ‘My guards informed me that you had returned to Skyhold. Can I speak with you? There are some very important personal matters that I need to discuss.’

Laughing to myself I turned back to ascend the steps, leaving the Commander at the door. ‘Important matters, are there? Cullen I’ll save you the trouble. I already know about you and Mabel Guildersleeve. Frankly I don't give a shit, go do what you want with her.’

Cullen’s eyes shut, as if physically pained. ‘No,’ he replied sternly, following me into the room and closing the door behind him ‘you do not know the entire story. There is a lot more that has happened.’

The ex-templar climbed the stairs with heavy steps before coming to meet my attention once more as I scowled back at him.

‘Why do you think I want to hear this?’ I reproached, retreating to the bed to pull my boots back on, now eager to leave the room and escape from the ex-templar. ‘I'm not interested in you and Mabel. Just get out, I've got nothing to say to you.'

‘Please Ophelia, I came here to tell you the truth. Something that you needed to hear from my lips only.’ informed Cullen in a stern voice.

The ex-templar stood there determinedly, demanding my attention and I paused to give it, perhaps being used to doing so on many occasions in the past.

‘When you were away in Ferelden we discovered Josephine Montilyet had possessed the body of Mabel Guildersleeve.’ he informed ‘Josephine had taken Mabel’s image before she even arrived at Skyhold.’

Looking more than a little surprised, I threw a stunned look to my companion. Surely I had misheard him. ‘Are you serious? I don’t understand? How can you take someone’s body? Mable is Mable Guildersleeve, not Josephine.’

Cullen sighed heavily, leaning against the chair beside the stairs. ‘She did it with blood magic performed by Jowan. Yes I am afraid it is the truth. Josephine was working with Jowan, who wanted her to feed him information about the Inquisition to give to Corypheus. In turn, he aided her transformation into our new ambassador, Mabel Guildersleeve.’

Dropping one of my boots onto the ground, I brought my hands to my face in shock. ‘Maker have mercy, you're being serious aren't you? You're actually saying Mabel was Josephine? All this time? Since the first day we saw her arrive at Skyhold in that carriage?’

‘Yes, but there is more.’ warned Cullen ‘Josephine came here to Skyhold with the intention to poison me with a poultice of blood magic. A potion of desire, so I would only want her. It seems her obsession over me never quite dissipated.’. The Commander looked bitterly away, revolted by the fact.

If ever there were words to make one’s heart drop, these were the ones. I could feel that shiver pass over my skin, the one that reveals itself in times of terror. I knew Cullen was being honest, his face told me as much. In the grim reality of the moment I was left speechless.

‘Josephine...poisoned you?’ I cannot believe it. Is she truly that vindictive?’

‘I think we both know the answer to that.’ muttered Cullen ‘That is why I was shamelessly going after Mabel the way that I did. I was under the influence of a strong potion of blood magic.’

‘Oh....’ I faltered, looking away from him. 

The Commander nodded sternly. ‘What she did was abhorrent, Ophelia. Abhorrent. To use blood magic to make me desire her was just the beginning. She and Jowan murdered Mabel Guildersleeve to take her form. Indeed Josephine intended to reveal all of the Inquisition’s plans to Corypheus. She would have never stopped until we had been drowning in a pool of our own blood. At least we can say justice was finally served in the end.’

‘Josephine…’ I began hesitantly.

‘...is dead.’ confirmed Cullen darkly ‘Yes.’

Shaking my head in disbelief, I couldn't think of what to say. What could I say? Once again the same monster had been in front of us all along and we were oblivious. Naturally I had never been too fond of our new ambassador, but to know now it was Josephine all along? Not for a moment did it even enter my mind and that in itself was unnerving.

Noticing the silence of my shock Cullen approached me slowly, his black boots tapping loud on the wooden floor as he took a seat beside me on the bed. The bed sank under his weight, pulling me towards him so my leg pressed against his.

‘Ophelia, are you all right?’ he asked gently, turning his head to me. Cullen looked concerned as he beheld me up close, running his eyes over me intensely. 'We were all shocked upon learning this, myself being at the top of that list.'

‘I'm stunned.’ I murmured ‘How could Josephine have done such a thing? How could she have done that to you?’

‘As I said, you were not the only one to be stunned by this.’ replied Cullen ‘She deceived us all rather shamelessly.’

Fearfully I placed my hand on his knee in concern. ‘Are you hurt Cullen? Did she do anything else to you? Will you recover from this blood magic?’

Cullen’s expression melted, a small reassuring smile on his lips. ‘I am not hurt, nor am I affected by the potion any longer. I do not desire Mabel, and without that potion I never did. Ophelia I am just terribly sorry for what has unfolded.’. Reaching out, Cullen took my hand, placing it in between both of his ‘I know it does not change things, but I wanted to say this before she poisoned me.’. Cullen cast his amber eyes deeply into mine. ‘I am so sorry about how I reacted to the kiss with you and Michel. For what it was worth, I was going to apologise to you. I never got the chance when the potion set in, but I truly meant to apologise for how I reacted. I needed you to know that.’

‘I forgive you.’ I murmured, shaking my head ‘That matter pales in comparison to what has happened since then.’

Cullen appeared grim, as if there was more on his mind. ‘I'm so sorry Ophelia. There is something else that I must tell you, and it pains me to do so. It sickens me. I lay with Mabel several times and as much as it breaks my heart to confess it, you need to know that. I want no secrets between us.’

Angrily I swept my hair from my face. Hearing Cullen confess that was a bitter thing to swallow. 'I already knew that.' I replied darkly 'But everything I saw means something entirely different now, doesn't it? Yet even with an explanation, my anger and disgust still remain.’

Cullen cast a frown my way. ‘Anger and loathing? What did you see?’

Unable to look him in the eyes, I decided to focus on a loose black thread hanging from my top. ‘I saw you both in the woods,’ I informed, adding somewhat bitterly ‘fucking each other.’

Cullen’s eyes closed, his hands drawing tight as he dragged them through his hair. ‘Andraste preserve me.’. The pain in his voice was real and I knew what he said was truly how he felt. ‘That was not me. The person in the woods that day was not who I am. Whatever foul magic was in that potion took hold of me like some hideous force. Maker help us all. I am to blame I know, but please Ophelia you must believe me when I say I would never have done something like that. That is not who I am.'

Looking at the man sadly, I knew he was telling the truth. ‘You were poisoned. How can I blame you? No matter how much it hurts, how can I blame you when Josephine made you desire her?’

‘Because I promised I would never betray you.’ replied Cullen bitterly 'And no matter the reason behind it, I have done that.'

Frowning, I grabbed his hand tight in mine. ‘No, you were not to blame. Never apologise for what that evil woman did to you. You were the victim here.’

‘No.’ Cullen frowned ‘I was consumed by her, but I was weak and I gave in to those urges.’

‘Cullen you were poisoned!’ I exclaimed desperately ‘You were not yourself!’

My heart was racing for I knew this man before me had been the subject of a cruel concoction of deception. A victim of blood magic. There was a reason for his behaviour, no matter how terrible it had been. 

‘Why could I not have controlled myself?’ he asked angrily ‘I love you more than anything in this world. How could some damn potion make me forget that?’

‘It is blood magic, and it is evil.’ I replied adamantly ‘You are not to blame.’

Cullen grabbed my hand and placed his lips on it. His mouth was warm and lingered on my skin. ‘Curse that potion and myself. Tell me it has not poisoned our love? For I can see I have hurt you, no matter the reason. I would ask for your forgiveness.’

‘I forgive you Cullen.’ I replied, my eyes casting away in shame ‘I fear you will not forgive me. I fear that now more than ever when you realise what has taken place. I was hurt about what I had seen and at that point I declared in my heart that whatever we shared was over. I was adamant to move on and leave you behind.’

Cullen breathed out a heavy sigh and nodded, understanding all too well. ‘I suspect you and Michel are together now? Leliana mentioned you both went to Ferelden. I can only assume you both have been together?’

Cullen looked at me with acceptance, and that I fear made the guilt all the heavier to burden. I felt like I had betrayed Cullen. No, it was worse than that. I had betrayed Cullen.

‘We are together now.' I confirmed, drawing my hands away from the man. 'I thought you had chosen to be with Mabel. You broke my heart and I had to accept that. You have no idea what seeing you with Mabel was like. I was devastated and Michel was there for me.’

The look in the ex-templar’s eyes surprised me, and had me a little taken aback. Cullen was not angry or furious, or even scathing. Cullen just looked at me with an earnest and understanding expression on his face. The ex-templar looked upon me like a man who loved me more than anything in this world and was willing to accept what had happened no matter what pain it may have caused him.

‘Its okay.’ Cullen replied gently ‘You're right. You saw me with Mabel, I cannot imagine what pain you would have felt, and for that I am so sorry.’. Cullen drew his hand to mine, gently interlacing his fingers. ‘I love you Ophelia, nothing has changed for me. Josephine was infatuated to the point of madness, and thankfully I walked away alive. I am alive and you are alive. I thank the Maker for that. Has anything changed for you?’

I cast my eyes down. 'Nothing has changed Cullen, yet everything has changed now.'

‘Yes I suppose it has.’ he nodded seriously ‘After everything that has happened between us I cannot fault you for seeking solace with Michel. You are hurt and I accept the blame. Just know this - I will not give up on you Ophelia. I will prove myself worthy to you once mroe.’

Cullen moved down to kneel in front of me, his body directly in front of mine as he looked across to me.

‘I love you.’ Cullen declared passionately ‘You are more than just in my heart. You are a part of me, and I cannot be away from you any more than I can be away from my very flesh. Do you not see? Every moment you are away from me is the true definition of pain. I miss you.’. Cullen ran his finger affectionately across my cheek as a tear of my own trailed down. ‘I miss your touch.’ he murmured, a small smile on his lips ‘Your heart beating against mine. Our savage passion burning us into ash and setting us free, like embers scattered in a gusty wind. I miss my other half. We agreed we would never be parted after Kirkwall, and I believe you and I can move past this. But I will accept blame here. I was foolishly hot headed when I found out about you and Michel kissing. My wounded ego pushed you away and that was wrong. My involvement with Mabel was wrong. If you can ever forgive me, know that I am here waiting for you. Until then, I will give you all the time you need.’

His warm lips moved gently to my cheek, lingering lightly against my skin. I could feel his breath on my flesh before he placed one tender kiss, his soft lips pressing deep against my cheekbone before pulling away. Cullen drew his amber eyes deep into mine, silently looking at me for a few moments, a moment that felt like an eternity that was over too soon, before standing up and departing my chambers.

Exhaling a shaky breath, I remained alone on the bed as I heard the door close once more. I was drowning in my thoughts, thoughts that were determined to only laugh at me in delightful torment, cruelly pointing their crooked fingers towards me and keenly curse my wicked deeds.

****

Three doves flitted across the rooftop on The Herald’s Rest that afternoon, their plump white feathered bodies nestled on the warm thatch. It was said that doves mated for life, their life span going on for decades, their love stronger than the years that passed by. Michel de Chevin did not know it were true or not, but the notion made him smile. That the concept of love, even in its animalistic state, was not merely perfunctory but affectionate and eternal. Enduring. Everlasting. His blue eyes narrowed somewhat as he noticed two of the doves were cooing but not the third. Only male doves cooed, and always to woo the female. Three doves, three hearts, and one was certain to be broken. Perhaps even amongst doves, heartbreak was inevitable.

Turning his attention back to polishing his sword at the side of the sparring circle, Michel recommenced watching the soldiers train in between soft sweeps of the oil covered rag in his hand. A smile on his lips, he noticed how the once unsteady hands of the recruits had now transformed into more confident strikes. The soldiers kept their focus on the blade before them, and their shields were being used rather than just held. The new recruits had come a long way in a short space of time and the ex-chevalier was more than a little proud to be a part of that transformation. Skyhold was feeling more and more like his home, the Inquisition every day more like his calling. Michel de Chevin was deeply fond of that feeling of finally belonging somewhere.

Descending the outside stairs from the main hall, the ex-chevalier noticed the Commander approaching, a serious expression etched on his face.

A heavy sigh departed from the Orlesian’s lips as he awaited the impending reunion. Then again, there were some things Michel was not so fond of in Skyhold.

‘Maister of Blades, you are back.’ called out Cullen formally, taking a seat besides the ex-chevalier on the wooden crates.

‘Cullen.’ nodded Michel, his eyes locking with the ex-templar in a serious manner 'I just arrived this morning.' 

‘How was Ferelden?’ asked the Commander pleasantly.

Continuing to polish his blade, Michel nodded, somewhat expecting the conversation that was now unfolding. ‘Cullen, I think you and I need to talk.’ 

‘I would say we most likely do!’ chortled Cullen, casting his eyes across the circle to watch the soldiers parry. ‘I suppose Leliana has told you about Josephine being concealed in Skyhold?’

‘Yes, she told me just before.’ replied Michel, shaking his head in disbelief ‘I am sorry to hear how Josephine manipulated you the way that she did. She had everyone fooled, it is shocking.’

‘Yes an unfortunate position to be put in, and sadly more than one person was hurt.’ observed Cullen seriously ‘Ophelia told me that she saw Mabel and I together. Naturally she was upset, most likely devastated? Seeing me betray her like that?’

‘She was upset, Cullen.’ informed Michel solemnly, continuing to focus on his blade rather than the ex-templar. 

‘Shameful, was it not?’ continued Cullen sagely ‘Although not nearly as shameful as when you whisked Ophelia away to Ferelden when she was vulnerable and heartbroken and then took full advantage of her. Wouldn’t you agree?’

Michel stopped polishing his weapon, looking over to his companion in disapproval.

Cullen held his gaze sternly, a scathing look of hatred glinting in his eyes.

‘You were not there after she witnessed you having sex with Mabel.’ replied the ex-chevalier bluntly ‘Ophelia was more than a little upset. She was crying her eyes out and scrutinising her very own self worth. All for something that you did. The last place she needed to be was here, with you flaunting your infidelity in her face. I helped her escape that reality for a few days.’

‘Escape? Is that what you call it!’ chuckled Cullen, nodding his head in amusement ‘It would have been devastating for Ophelia to witness such a thing, and I am sickened by what I put her through. Even though I was poisoned, I am wholeheartedly ashamed of what I have done. You however? You, out of your own volition, preyed on a vulnerable woman and fucked her. You didn’t even need a potion to be that shamefully lecherous.’

Michel nodded his head with a small chuckle, proceeding to polish his blade once more. ‘And there it is. You always seem to know everything, don’t you Cullen? Always know all the facts without a shred of knowledge on the matter? Did it cross your mind, even for a second, that Ophelia might actually have had feelings for me this entire time?’

‘Oh it did, many times in fact.’ the ex-templar replied dryly ‘Ophelia had a soft spot for you, but what chance did she have with you always lurking in the shadows waiting for that moment of opportune? I understand all too well, for it seems you and Josephine have more than a little in common.’

Shaking his head, Michel sheathed his sword carefully before addressing the comment. ‘If it makes you feel better to compare me with a madwoman then so be it.’ he remarked calmly ‘Ophelia has had feelings for me since I arrived at Skyhold , in fact she has confessed her love. I'm sorry you had to find out about it this way but you deserve to know that.’

The Commander chuckled, highly amused by the proclamations of the ex-cheavlier. ‘Love already?! How wonderful! Oh the Maker works in mysterious ways! To think I am actually starting to feel sorry for you and your gullible nature. Michel believe me when I say words are cheap coming from the mouths of the wounded. Of course it is good to see Ophelia is playing you as much as you are her. I might get some satisfaction out of this yet.’

‘Naturally it must be such a surprise to see Ophelia desiring to be rid of you.’ replied Michel sarcastically under his breath ‘I can’t imagine why her heart would drift away from someone such as yourself?’

‘Like I said, words are cheap.’ observed Cullen ‘Oh no doubt Ophelia thought she had feelings. The moment I make a mistake, in comes the chevalier to save the day! Who wouldn’t feel something for you Michel? I mean, we all know that is how you work? Playing on the vulnerabilities of women? With your disgraceful chevalier Codes of Courtly Love ingrained into your depraved salacious nature. That is indeed what the chevalier’s are all about, are they not? A band of leches with a code of lechery under their sleeve?’

Michel laughed, turning his attention now hard on Cullen. ‘Sorry I'm confused?’ remarked an amused Michel ‘Are you asking me to go through the rules of courtly love with you?’

‘Why not?’ shrugged Cullen, leaning back against the crate in ease ‘You practice what you preach. Tell me if you would, what does rule thirty one specifically dictate?’

‘Why don’t you remind me.’ replied Michel tiredly, his eyes drawing back to the soldiers in the distance.

‘Nothing forbids one woman being loved by two men.’ scorned Cullen ‘Sound familiar, chevalier?’

Michel chuckled at Cullen in amusement. 'Orlesian Emperor Theroux wrote those rules for courtly intrigue over a century ago and somehow I am to blame for it now?' 

'Rule thirty-one' repeated Cullen sternly.

Michel nodded with a smile, perhaps wishing to taunt the Commander just a little in turn. ‘Yes that is indeed an important rule of courtly love.’ he confirmed ‘If the woman’s heart is open to two men then she should be allowed to love and be loved thus. How about rule twenty four? Every act of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved. How faithful have your actions been in regards to this rule I wonder? Did you think of Ophelia whilst you fucked Josephine?’

Cullen’s jaw clenched as he looked at the Maister of Blade’s bemused face. ‘How about rule fourteen?’ Cullen replied darkly ‘The easy attainment of love makes it of little value, yet the difficulty of attainment makes it prized. It's all a game to you, isn't it Michel? You saw Ophelia was unattainable and that made you want her.’

The ex-chevalier shook his head, realising his companion would not see reason. ‘Cullen this is not some competition, and I am not a chevalier following the rules of courtly love. Believe whatever comforts you. Be angry if you must? But in the end Ophelia is with me because she wants to be.’

‘I'm not angry at you Michel.’ informed Cullen, brushing his hands as he stood up once more. ‘You were there for Ophelia when I was not. In fact, I did not expect any less of you than what your behaviour revealed. However I'm back to my senses now and I see you have stolen something of mine. I hope you enjoyed her while you could.’

‘Meaning?’ asked Michel, raising an amused eyebrow.

‘Meaning now I intend to have her back.’ informed Cullen directly ‘You may have her cornered at the moment Michel but that will not be for long. Ophelia loved me before you, remember that. She will always love me before you.’. Throwing a smirk to his companion, Cullen turned to leave the courtyard, adding as he walked off ‘One way or another, you will have to accept that. You will have to let her go.’

****

Chaotic is the mind that refuses to relent Drowned is the spirit that refuses to repent...

The latest revelations of Josephine’s deception had been tormenting me all day, while Cullen’s loving words added further salt to the wound. I tried to quench the guilt I was feeling in furious gulps of water in my room, only realising the isolation in my chambers was adding to the overwhelming sense of hopelessness of the situation. Stumbling out of my room, I descended into the belly of the Undercroft, eager to peruse the schematics of a new staff that could distract my present state of mind. With fretting and fumbling hands in a fidgeting mess of fuss I was unable to work at the crafting table, and retreated to the many stone corridors of Skyhold, pacing furiously through my thoughts. And they were terrible thoughts. The truth that I was still in love with Cullen, and yet now I also had fallen for Michel. Without intention I had fallen in love with two men and they in turn were in love with me.

Arriving at a wooden door on the bottom level of the keep, I had reached Michel's quarters. Knocking on the wood I waited impatiently until the door swung open and I was greeted by a wet haired ex-chevalier wearing no shirt.

'You're just in time!' greeted Michel, flicking back his wet hair.

‘Yes, I think am.’ I observed with a grin, running my eyes up and down the dripping knight wearing only a towel. 'Do you greet everyone like this at your door?'

‘Seven days a week, day or night.’ mused Michel ‘In my defense I was just about to get dressed when you knocked. Please do come in.’

Stepping across the threshold, I looked around curiously into the residence of Michel de Chevin. A mahogany sleigh bed resided against the wall, draped with blue and gold sheets, and a sword hung above the headboard. That beautiful blade I had seen before at the Skyhold Grand Tourney when Michel had faced Ser Perth. It was a double edged silver long sword with a silver hilt entwined in green metal vines. A small dresser resided by the bed, and a table sat by the window, two chairs on either side. In the furthest corner, a wooden tub resided, full of water and still steaming from its recent use by the knight before me.

Michel smiled, politely holding the door open to let me pass. Before he had even closed it, I felt the lips of the ex-chevalier on my neck and his hands running around my waist, turning me around eagerly as he began to hungrily devour my mouth with his.

‘Dinner is ready.’ he informed between kisses.

‘I’m hungry for something else.’ I replied hotly.

'I hope you like Orlesian then?' quipped Michel mischievously. 

Running my hands across his bare chest, I breathed in Michel’s scent deeply, willing it to possess me. Pulling him towards his bed, I fell back onto the luxurious soft covers, removing my top, boots and pants rather hastily as Michel stood there with a smile on his lips, admiring the enthusiastic reception.

Bare in flesh and stripped of my inner thoughts, even if for a brief moment, I stretched my arms towards him beckoning him to me. Michel crawled over me, removing his towel as his warm body pressed against mine. His blonde head lowered hungrily to my mouth, deeply exploring as he moaned in pleasure.

Running my hands to his arse, my fingers pushing mercilessly into the warm flesh of his buttocks while in front revealed his springing throbbing hardness, which pressed hotly against me.

‘Not interested in asking me how my day was?’ asked Michel between intense kisses.

‘Not in the slightest.’ I grinned, placing more hungry kisses all over his chest.

Unable to wait for the ex-chevalier I pulled cock towards me. Michel moaned as he felt me stroke him, pumping his member up and down as I directed the way. Holding his weight on his muscular arms, Michel drew his lips to my neck, kissing me passionately as I felt the hot skin of his abdomen lightly brush against my chest.

Grabbing his arse in my hands, I pulled him towards my hips. ‘I need you inside me.’ I whispered into his ear ‘Fuck me.’

Michel laughed in amusement at the directness of my request. ‘I am your humble servant.’ he replied hotly.

Feeling the tip of his bulbous head splay me out, we moaned at the connection. I wanted to drown in this heady feeling of weightlessness. To my shame I finally understood what Cullen had confessed to doing over and over again, to drown one’s sorrow in the pleasure of the flesh, to sate one’s desire in the soft embrace of carnal delights.

Perhaps it would not take away the pain forever, but in the heat of the moment I finally felt free.

The knight eased himself in deep, his breath catching as he relished the moment his cock was buried deep. Michel already knew better than to start slow, and with pleasure he began thrusting hard into me, causing me to cry out. The urgency of our affections told us neither one wanted to draw this out in painful polite deliberation. We needed release fast. With deep strokes Michel fucked me with enthusiasm, his eyes drawing shut as he rode through the waves of pleasure overcoming him on every thrust. I felt the urgency of his pleasure, his breathing growing faster as he suddenly looked upon me, unleashing his carnal desire. It was almost as if with his clothes, so too did his chivalric trappings come off, and in the throes of passion he revealed his desire to conquer mercilessly like any other man. I loved the way Michel ran his hands through my hair as he fucked me, holding my attention as he looked into my eyes. Leaning further into me, Michel moaned as he plunged deeper. His dick was unbelievably hard and each impalement was exquisite torture.

Our bodies now moving together, we rose higher and higher until neither of us could go any further. Crying out in collection of breathless words, I came as Michel released himself, pulsating into me as he too came hard in a series of moans. I felt the high sweep over me, and for a moment I was free. Free. Little did I know I was not a bird but merely a kite, and now my cord was being pulled back, cruelly yanking me back to reality once more.

Sealing our union with a barrage of deep kisses, Michel and I finally withdrew from his bed in search of actual sustenance.

Sitting at the table by the window, I sank my teeth ravenously into a chunk of bread. ‘First day back at Skyhold has made me hungry.’ I mused, raising a suggestive eyebrow at the naked ex-chevalier sitting opposite me. '

‘You were ravenous in Ferelden from what I recall, but here?’ grinned Michel, taking a bite of an apple in delight ‘An insatiable hunger perhaps? I'm not complaining.’

I chuckled ‘Considering the cuisine, neither am I.’

‘Orlesian delicacies to your taste then afterall?’ he teased, running the fruit playfully across his bottom lip. 'I'm much fonder of the Free Marches myself.'

‘Exquisite cheese and crème brûlée versus flat bread, and stew.’ I chuckled 'I think you got the rough end of the stick there.'

Michel smiled, looking me up and down in pleasure. 'Not from where I'm sitting.' 

Grabbing a bottle of wine from the table, I began to pour two glasses. 'What a day today was. I need this.'

Michel looked up at me more seriously. ‘I hear Cullen spoke to you? How did that go?’

‘Did he ever. Did you hear about Josephine?’ I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief.

‘Leliana told me. Josephine being Mabel Guildersleeve was outlandish enough, let alone finding out she was poisoning Cullen. I was shocked.’

‘I was shocked.’ I agreed, adding darkly ‘How could she have drugged Cullen like that? It means he did not know what he was doing. Funny how it still doesn’t take the pain away? I still can't forget that.’

Michel ran his hand across the table and gently held mine. ‘Does it change anything? Between Cullen and you? Between you and I?’

‘It changes a lot.’ I frowned ‘It means Cullen did not betray me in the end.’

Raising his eyebrows, the chevalier remained quiet as he began to sip at his wine.

‘You don’t agree?’ I asked, noticing his reaction.

‘He was given a potion of lust.’ shrugged Michel ‘Who’s to say what happens when someone consumes such a thing?’

‘You think Cullen could have refused Mabel?’ I replied a little more sharply 'That he choose to fuck her because wanted to?'

‘I cannot say yes or no.’ replied Michel ‘Cullen bedded Mabel, but how much control did or did he not have? Have you not asked yourself this?’

Running my hands across my arm more than a little defensively, I frowned at my companion. ‘He was poisoned Michel. Surely you are not saying he had control?’

‘Are you sure that he did not?’ asked the ex-chevalier seriously 'How do you know?'

I shrugged, taking a hasty sip of wine and trying to forget Cullen mentioning the same predicament. ‘I suppose it changes nothing. I told Cullen I saw him and Mabel in the woods and things changed after that moment I told him about us.’

‘And he respected your decision to be with me?’ asked Michel, in a manner that suggested he already knew the answer.

Shaking my head at the man, I knew Michel deserved to know what Cullen was saying behind closed doors. ‘Cullen said he still loved me and wanted me back.’ 

‘Of course he did.’ chuckled Michel bitterly, throwing down his apple core onto his plate. ‘The man is headstrong, I’ll give him that much.’

‘He feels terrible about what happened.’ I added softly 'I'm not excusing what he did, but he was very apologetic.'

The ex-chevalier looked troubled as he watched me pull my bread quietly into pieces on the table.

‘Cullen is the sort of man that will keep on taking advantage of you if you let him.’ informed Michel seriously ‘Have you ever asked yourself why he was such a good templar, and now such a powerful Commander of the Inquisition? His position demands control and respect. Control and respect from the mages and templars, and now from the soldiers of the Inquisition. His thumb is pressed hard on us all for our own good. However when it comes to you, Ophelia, he is incapable of separating the man from the position. He is incapable of having a relationship where he isn’t in control. Cullen will do as he pleases with little regard to yourself, and that will be the final call.’

‘By all accounts you would be casting the same light on yourself if that were true?’ I remarked in jest 'You have led men both here and back in Orlais? Were you not the head of the Chevalier Order?'

Michel shook his head. ‘Chevaliers and templars are all too the same, and yet never more different. My duties were never dictated by the control of another. A chevalier serves to protect his kingdom. Even now, I only serve the Inquisition as a mentor and soldier myself. When it comes to the people I love, I will always respect them. You are my equal Ophelia, I hope you can see that? I fear Cullen sees you as his beloved inferior.’

‘You do not know him like I do.’ I replied starkly ‘He is not just some brute with an overinflated ego. Cullen is more complex than that.’

Michel stood up and moved towards me, prying my hand from the breadcrumbs I was mashing with great enthusiasm. With an affectionate smile he wrapped his arms around me. I could feel his warmth against my bare flesh, and I wanted to be comforted by it.

‘I cannot tell you what to believe, but I will show you what it feels to be loved as an equal.’ promised Michel, resting his head against mine ‘What is to be loved by a man who respects you.’

Bringing my lips to his, I kissed the ex-chevalier deeply. Perhaps there was a lot I needed to learn in regards to equal relationships, but I did not want to confess to my companion that Cullen’s authority over me was something that I had always desperately craved.

‘Dessert?’ I asked innocently.

Michel raised an eyebrow ‘I have rhubarb pie?’

I shook my head, a devious smile growing on my lips as I suddenly turned my foot, drawing the ex-chevalier back to the bed once more. Truth be told I wasn't interested in understanding anything at all a the present moment. All I wanted to do was to forget. To embrace the sweet caress of warm flesh against mine, whispering to me that all my problems would soon fade away. Nothing else mattered...although that too I knew was nothing more than a shameful, shameful lie that I would also soon try to forget.


	29. Secrets

  


Secrets. Each told a tale of their own, spun under the shadowy veil of concealment. One small hidden truth had the potential to dethrone the mightiest of rulers, cause bloodshed and war, spawning death and hatred in its revelation. The right secret could become the mightiest of weapons, more destructive than an army and more powerful than a kingdom. Indeed secrets were the hidden jewels of the realm. In the trade of cloak and dagger secrets were her weapon of choice and her way of life. The way she chose to play the game.

Leliana ran her fingers delicately over the iron door handle of the Inquisition barracks, lingering for a moment before pushing the door open. She was met with a room filled with weapon racks, shields, and a large barrel of water with many a copper mug scattered on a table nearby. The quarters were empty aside from one man sitting on the bench, busily scrawling notes into the soldier’s roster at the end of another day.

‘Maister of Blades.’ Leliana called out, gaining the attention of the ex-chevalier.

Michel looked up and threw the spymaster a surprised smile, tapping his quill pleasantly against the wooden writing board he was holding.

‘Some say the worst part of the day is risking your life when facing your enemy,’ the ex-chevalier observed with a grin ‘but I’d argue that filling out the infantry roster instills more terror in my heart.’

Leliana revealed a small smile of her own. ‘Yes, give me a bow in my hand any day over another tiresome letter addressed to the Inquisition.’

Walking slowly into the room, the spymaster lingered by a rack of short swords resting against the wall. Drawing closer she admired the steel that had been forged by Harritt. His craftsmanship as a blacksmith was outstanding, and Leliana had been privy to many blades in her time. Running her finger across a dirk that caught her interest, she picked up the blade in intrigue. The dark coloured bog oak wood of the hilt was sturdy and the twelve inch blade was sharp and cold, crafted with the finest Ferelden metal and etched with a small Inquisition symbol on the base of the steel.

‘Is there something you wish to speak about?’ asked Michel politely, placing his papers down on the bench beside him in order to give his companion his full attention.

Drawing her attention away from the dirk, Leliana nodded as she replaced the weapon and moved to sit on the bench near Michel.

‘We have received word from the Griffon Wing Keep that a group of Venatori have attacked a patrol a few days back.’ informed Leliana ‘Several soldiers are dead, and the Commander of the keep has been very badly injured.’

Michel looked concerned ‘Commander Rylan? Is he all right?’

‘He will live.’ replied Leliana confidently ‘However my messengers tell me he has broken a leg, cracked several ribs and his upper abdomen was pierced quite deep. Time for healing is essential, and we are in desperate need of a replacement for the position of Commander while this happens.’

‘So you want me to be that replacement.’ anticipated Michel, growing quiet as he stared in front of him, deep in thought.

‘Is that a problem?’ asked Leliana curiously 'Such a role is a significant step up from your position here. You would be acting as Commander of the Inquisition in the area of the Western Approach.'

The ex-chevalier looked over to his companion with a serious expression. ‘Tell me Leliana, did Cullen arrange this?’ 

Leliana held an ever so slight smirk on her lips, her green eyes brightening as she detected the ever so slight hint disdain in her companion’s voice. ‘I can see how it would appear that way, considering all things between you and Ophelia.’ 

‘You know about Ophelia and I?’ remarked Michel curiously 'I am surprised but, then again, we never kept it a secret.'

Leliana shrugged. ‘Cullen and Ophelia were together, and now she spends all her time with you. It does not take a spy to know that you and she are together. However to answer your other question, no. Cullen is not behind this recent decision. I myself informed Cullen that we needed you to replace Commander Rylan Burns. Rylan was Cullen’s second in command, and you are Cullen’s third. It was only natural that you would be required to take Rylan’s place. You will have to leave for the Griffon Wing Keep immediately. Tomorrow at dawn.’

Michel nodded, running his hand through his hair in slight agitation. He was obviously torn between duty and his personal feelings. Looking up, his face was filled with concerned. ‘Do I have your word that I can return to Skyhold when Rylan is recovered? That I will not be kept there by Cullen after Rylan recommences his position as Commander?’

Leliana nodded. ‘Of course we will not keep you there any longer than necessary.’

‘Thank you Leliana’ he replied, appearing relieved. 

Pausing for a moment, she ran her green eyes up and down the ex-chevalier who was now looking a little forlorn. Michel was a soldier that would never forsake his duty, but Leliana could tell the Western Approach was the last place he wanted to be.

‘She will go back to him.’ Leliana informed suddenly ‘You do realise this?’

Looking up in confusion, Michel suddenly understood what his companion was referring to. Shaking his head, he reached for his papers and quill lying on the bench, commencing his work once more.

‘First Cullen, and now you?’ observed Michel wearily ‘Does everyone in Skyhold wish to advise me of their blatant opinion about Ophelia and I being together?’

‘The truth is hard to accept, yet it is still the truth no matter how much you try to deny it.’ added Leliana flatly.

‘The truth that Cullen will try everything to get her back when I am away, yes.’ replied Michel bitterly ‘Do you not think I have already anticipated that? I would be shocked to find out that he didn't try the moment I ride out those gates.’

‘Oh Michel, a man like you always anticipates such things.’ Leliana observed cruelly ‘You have a way with women. I am certain you have broken many hearts along the way? Interfered with another’s love?’

The ex-chevalier’s posture suddenly grew rigid, his body tense and his hands clenched the papers so they crumpled at the side. Michel threw a dark look towards Leliana before casting his attention back to the roster, determined not to entertain her observations.

'You speak of my past?' observed Michel stiffly. 

‘Lady Rochelle de Chevin?’ smiled Leliana 'I suppose I do.' 

‘Do not speak her name.’ Michel warned angrily, his blue eyes looking almost wild as he sharply cast them upon the spymaster. ‘You have no right to bring this up now. You have no right to insult her memory but uttering her name.’

‘She was your wife, no?’ continued Leliana, a cruel question asked in playful innocence. ‘You were both married in Orlais by Lake Celestine on the first day of spring? Fifteen years ago?’

‘Leliana if you have any kindness in your heart you will not speak of this to me.’ appealed Michel somberly ‘Not now, not ever. There are some wounds that never heal, and even now are too painful to recollect.’

The spymaster revealed a smirk, a similar one that her close friend often beheld, as she looked upon the ex-chevalier. ‘Oh I am not judging you Michel. The chevaliers in Orlais seem to make a habit of such things and indeed the Orlesian court are accepting of such intrigues. Of course, now I see a habit forming here and I will be the first to say that it concerns me.’

Michel appeared shocked by the brazen accusation. Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked upon the Spymaster with reproach. ‘You would compare a terrible tragedy from my past to my current relationship with Ophelia? Leliana surely that is unworthy of you?’

Leliana shrugged. ‘Different details perhaps, but the same outcome. You stealing another man’s lover.’

‘That is not the way it happened’ replied Michel defensively.

‘Did you not steal another man’s wife?’ taunted Leliana ‘While you yourself were married to another?’

‘Not that you are entitled to an explanation but I was young and put in an impossible situation at the time.’ informed Michel coldly ‘Comte Brevin de Chalons encouraged the union and I was in no position to refuse. Lady Rochelle and I wed before my twenty-first birthday and it was never a union based on love.’

‘So you found love elsewhere?’ observed Leliana snidely.

Michel threw Leliana a stern glare. ‘Why bring this up? Why now?!’

‘Does Ophelia know about your wife?’ asked Leliana curiously ‘Does she know what happened to Lady Rochelle?’

Michel remained silent as Leliana looked upon him with interest, examining his every reaction. The ex-chevalier appeared morbid as his mind wandered to his former days in Orlais. No longer was his face bright and jovial, instead he looked traumatised and haunted by the events that had plagued him years ago as a young man. Events that seemed to torment him to this very day.

‘Not that the tale is widely known, but they say you were in love with Lady Helena, your wife Rochelle’s elder sister.’ recounted Leliana ‘And Helena had fallen in love with you. However Helena was already promised to an Orlesian noble, Lord Clotaire Dreaux. You ended up marrying Rochelle, and Helena married Lord Dreaux. Meanwhile you and Helena concealed your love from both of your spouses, and continued the affair for years. Your wife Rochelle eventually found a rather graphic love letter between you and her sister. So upset was she that in her despair she threw herself from the roof of your manor in Montsimmard. They say a chamber maid found her body with the love letter she discovered still clutched in her hand.’

Michel ran his hands furiously through his blonde hair, gripped desperately as if in real pain. ‘Rochelle threw herself from the balcony of the Amber Room at Clemencia Manor where we lived.’ Michel informed darkly ‘The room was her wedding present from me and I had it filled with her favourite paintings, trinkets and furniture so she could find a happy place to spend her time while I was away on duty. It was there, in her happy place, that she choose to end her life.’. Clutching his hands, hands that were now trembling, Michel drew a deep and shaky breath. ‘It was I who found Rochelle’s body. Her white lace dress stained red as I cradled her limp body in a pool of her blood that seeped between the gaps of the cobblestoned courtyard.’

Casting her eyes away, Leliana suddenly looked ashamed. She felt the pain she was causing Michel in reliving the moment and she knew it was cruel, although unfortunately necessary for what she wanted to achieve. The end would justify the means.

‘That is not the end of the story though, is it?’ continued Michel bitterly, looking up with red eyes ‘Would you like to finish it? Or shall I?’

‘Michel I-’ began Leliana, feeling ashamed at her previous smugness as she stood before a man who had obviously been broken by what had happened.

‘No please continue,’ demanded Michel ‘you do such a good job at retelling the sad tales of others.’

Annoyed at her companion’s apt observation, Leliana decided to oblige. ‘They say upon hearing of her sister’s death, Lady Helena was overcome with grief and guilt. Unable to come to terms with the treachery and her part to play in Rochelle’s death, Helena was driven to insanity. She poisoned herself to her own death.’

‘Helena was not insane,’ informed Michel sadly ‘she was a beautiful soul that became terribly sad and blamed herself. It is the kind ones in this world that suffer the most, and she was the kindest of them all. I tried to comfort her, but she pushed me away in her grief. In the end nothing could save her from herself.’. Michel looked miserable as he reflected upon the moment in silence, eventually turning back to Leliana. ‘And yet the tale does not end even there. Shall I continue?’

‘Be my guest.’ replied Leliana crossing her arms, her attention fixed hard on her companion.

‘Lord Dreaux had loved his wife Helena so much that even after he learned of her affair with me, he forgave her instantaneously.’ continued Michel ‘He told her that he could not fathom a life without her. When Helena killed herself, Lord Dreaux was a broken man. The hour after her funeral, he fell on his blade, knowing that in death they could be together once more. Three people dead, and I to blame for each and every one.’. With tears glistening in his blue eyes, he cast them angrily to the spymaster ‘So that is the real story bard, and you can now tell it in its entirety to your delight. Are you going to go tell Cullen and Ophelia? Is that what this is about?’

‘No.’ replied Leliana quietly ‘I want you to go to the Western Approach and let Cullen and Ophelia be together. They were happy before you came along, and now you make it impossible for this to happen. I want to remind you of what happens when you interfere. I know it seems cruel Michel, but I would not want to see them, or you, hurt.’

‘You are too kind.’ scoffed Michel. The ex-chevalier shook his head in disbelief ‘You would judge me from a tragedy that happened before I was barely a man myself? Are you truly that callous Leliana? Am I not permitted to love ever again? Have you stopped to think Ophelia and I might actually be in love?’

Leliana frowned. ‘Of course you are permitted to love again, but do not let history repeat itself. Do not interfere in the love of others like you once did.’

‘Is that what you think I am doing?’ he asked bitterly.

‘You know deep down that that is what you are doing.’ replied Leliana gently ‘Cullen and Ophelia were together. Cullen is like Lord Dreaux. Ophelia is his Helena.’

‘Ophelia is my Helena.’ murmured Michel sadly ‘Our bond has developed since I arrived in Skyhold. Cullen has treated Ophelia cruelly time and time again. She turned to me and we have been happy.’

‘If it is true love, then you will return in a few months and Ophelia will be back at your side.’ determined Leliana ‘However if what you share with Ophelia is not true love, then this is the best way to secure your doubts. Let her return to her real love before any harm is done. Harm that you may never be able to undo.’

‘Ophelia would not judge me for my past.’ murmured Michel ‘I could simply tell her.’

‘And yet you have failed to tell her about your widow even now?’ observed Leliana with a raised brow ‘Or perhaps you have refused to because you know she would see you in a different light? No matter the reason, you need to cut Ophelia free from you before you leave.’

Angrily the chevalier stood up. ‘So you are blackmailing me? If I do not break it off with Ophelia you will tell her of my past?’

‘Yes.’ replied Leliana sharply ‘You will be leaving to the Western Approach tomorrow. It is up to you how you wish Ophelia to remember you while you are away.’

‘I love her and she loves me, and yet you would ask me to break her heart and tell her I do not love her any more?’ remarked Michel in disgust ‘So I can let her return to than brute of a man? I cannot believe you would even suggest this?! Why do you even care if they are together?’

‘Cullen and Ophelia are essential to the Inquisition.’ answered Leliana shortly ‘I need them to remain happy and safe.’

Michel threw his hands up in bewilderment. ‘And I am a threat? I recall Cullen being the reason Ophelia ran away from the Inquisition in the first place?’

‘I recall you were the reason they got into that situation in the first place.’ added Leliana.

The ex-chevalier scoffed in disgust. ‘Josephine was the reason, as you know well. Let us speak plainly. You want me to hand Ophelia back to Cullen, yes? That is why you are here?’

‘In hindsight would you not have wished to have done the same for Helena?’ replied Leliana sadly ‘Rochelle and Helena would be alive, and so would Lord Dreaux.’

Throwing the roster heavily on the table, the board hitting the wood loudly with a bang. ‘You must excuse me.’ informed Michel as he stormed out of the quarters ‘The air in here is stale and somewhat unforgiving.’

‘The decision is yours,’ called out Leliana ‘however you risk more blood on your hands if you are not careful. Choose wisely Michel, or prepare to lose everything.’

****

With tears in his eyes, the ex-chevalier marched across the stone courtyard, passing though the stone cloisters and descending into the garden at Skyhold. Weaving his way through the honeysuckle and boxwood, Michel finally fell to his knees at the spot where he and Ophelia had shared their kiss.

It was here that he had experienced that one blissful moment with her, stirring his heart after thinking she had felt nothing for him. That kiss had meant everything to Michel. They had made love in the Charmed Riverside Garden in Ferelden and that memory would forever remain precious in his mind, but it was here in this simple garden in Skyhold that one kiss had changed his life forever. It was here that Ophelia showed her first true feelings for the ex-chevalier and had secured their bond. He had revealed a part of him to her that he had kept secret, one of many it seemed, and she had not judged him. Ophelia had not faulted him, and the kindness in her heart had made his overflow with affection for the woman.

The ex-chevalier frowned. Then again there were some things he knew even Ophelia would not accept. Michel knew his previous infidelity would taint the love Ophelia felt for him. It would make her question it. She would grow to mistrust him and fall out of love, for he had seen the way she had reacted to Cullen’s betrayal. If Ophelia knew that Michel had betrayed his own wife then everything would change between them. 

The once happy smile on his face had long faded and the ex-chevalier was now sombre and heart broken. The time in the Western Approach would not be forever, he would return. That was inevitable. Yet so too was letting go of Ophelia it seemed? Had Leliana had been right? Was he only capable of causing the ruin of those he loved? Would he take the risk and do the same to Ophelia? To Cullen? Michel disliked the Commander but not even he would wish a fate for Cullen like that of Lord Dreaux. No, Michel knew he would not be responsible for the suffering of Ophelia and Cullen. There were too many people that depended on the Commander and the Inquisitor. Michel loved Ophelia so much that he knew he could not risk hurting her.

Leliana was right, he had to let Ophelia go.

He had to let her go.

Head bowed down, Michel planted his hands firmly against the grass as if praying to the earth itself and asking for forgiveness. The shame of his past always had a way of rearing its head, and once again he was faced with an event in his past that could never been undone. An event that even if he could forget he would never allow himself to forget, for that was his punishment in this life.

Once upon a time he was Ser Michel de Chevin living in Montsimmard at the grand estate of Clemencia Manor; a three story château entailing thirty-eight luxurious rooms and extensive gardens and wildlands surrounding the estate. His adoptive uncle had gifted the manor to Michel on his betrothal to Lady Rochelle Aberdenne, and in his youthful exuberance Michel enthusiastically embraced his new life as a chevalier and Orlesian noble, with his wife Lady Rochelle de Chevin by his side. Life was one spectacular celebration and there were balls thrown and social gatherings held. Michel won the hearts of the Orlesian nobles somewhat effortlessly with his grace, charm and social standing. He was the toast of Orlais and the envy of the upper class. His was a charmed life, or so everyone around him believed.

While life had blessed Michel with fortune, the fates had turned a blind eye to his heart. Michel had fallen in love with Lady Helena Aberdenne the first time he had laid eyes on her at a ball in Val Foret. Their eyes had met across the room, and if ever there was a moment of love at first sight he knew that this had been it. Her deep red hair tied up delicately with curls spilling down, her cinched waist bound up with a beautiful green corset, a green velvet that accented her green eyes. She turned to meet his eyes, and Michel had fallen in love. They shared one dance together; a waltz of nervous smiles, pleasantries and beating hearts, and their union was sealed. Helena confessed to Michel was she was promised to another, but she desperately wanted to be with him. Michel felt the same, and over the next few months he courted Helena in secret.

Months passed and secretly Michel and Helena were now deepl in love. Their secret was hard to keep, but they were happy just being together. But fate has a cruel way of destroying new love, and in a terrible set of circumstances Michel's adoptive uncle Comte Brevin de Chalons informed Michel that Lady Rochelle Aberdeen was an intended betrothed for the chevalier. Rochelle was Helena's sister. Such was the way of the Orlesian nobility, Michel was obligated to accept his uncle's arranged marriage, although his heart had already been claimed by another.

Helena and Michel were in love, not the sweet fondness that two people may sometimes stumble across, but a passionate and unbridled love where neither of them could bare to be parted from the other. Yet they were apart, and destined to be so, for Helena was promised to Lord Clotaire Dreaux and Michel to Rochelle Aberdenne. Of course, love would overcome all. Michel and Helena may have been forbidden to marry but they swore their undying affections and vowed to be together until death do they part.

In the end, Michel’s actions had resulted in his poor wife Rochelle to die. His actions had caused his first true love to die. Poor, sweet Helena. At the end of the day the fates had mocked him as his other half now lay cold in the ground.

‘Ma’ arlath ir alav’ien me abelas lath belos hath’ma vhe’lon.’ murmured Michel.

My love I have failed you and now my heart bleeds.

Michel knew Ophelia would never accept him when she learnt of his actions. Their love would diminish. Perhaps she would stay with him a while out of obligation, but eventually she would return to Cullen. How could anyone love a man that had acted the way Michel had done?

The ex-chevalier’s blue eyes lifted to spot some embrium growing beneath a nearby birch tree. Leaning forward he plucked a red flower, drawing it to his lips tenderly as he placed one soft kiss on the petals.

‘Ma emma lath, ma vhenan’ara.’ he murmured.

You are my love, my one heart’s desire.

****

To my surprise, a messenger notified me that afternoon of Michel’s impending departure to The Western Approach. Wondering why Michel had not informed me himself, I immediately set off to find the man. Silence greeted my knocks at his chamber door, and when I searched the soldier’s training area and quarters he was nowhere to be found either. Returning to my room after searching the keep, I found another note had been delivered, one from Michel simply reading;

Ophelia,

Will you do me the honour of meeting me in the Skyhold gardens tomorrow morning at sunrise? 

Regards,

Michel de Chevin

The letter had me perplexed, if not altogether uneasy. It was unlike Michel to be so secretive. Or so formal. 

My dreams troubled me greatly that night, the crimson bird on the waterfall had now began to flap it’s great wings and descend into the air, finding Skyhold where it circled the keep, it’s screech piercing the skies and echoing in my head as I tossed and turned in my sheets.

Awaking the next day at dawn, I made my way hastily to the garden only to discover Michel had not yet arrived. With chattering teeth I sat in the brisk morning with a fur wrapped tight around my shoulders and waited for my companion, a slight feeling of concern creeping over me.

Why had Michel asked to meet me here in the early hours of morning? 

‘Thank you coming.’ called out an Orlesian voice.

‘Michel.’ I replied hastily, turning around to see the ex-chevalier approaching in-between two rose bushes flowering with brilliant purple roses. ‘Is everything alright? I tried to find you yesterday? A messenger informed me that you were leaving to command the Griffon Wing Keep while Commander Rylan recovers?’

‘Yes, I am about to leave now.’ informed Michel seriously ‘The horses are saddled and the soldiers are waiting in the courtyard as we speak.’

‘You waited until the last moment to say goodbye?’ I replied doubtfully ‘That is unlike you? You know I tried to find you yesterday? Where were you? Why did you not come find me?’

Michel came to sit by me on the stone bench, silently gazing out in front of him for a moment before gently reaching for my hand, holding it softly.

‘Ophelia I came to say goodbye to you...and to us.’ he informed me sadly. The tone in his voice struck me so that I felt like crying as I heard the words spill from his mouth.

What in the blazes was going on?!

‘That's rather dramatic. You'll be back in a few months.’ I smiled, squeezing his hand in assurance ‘Rylan is a strong man, he’ll be better before that. Oh Michel, I don't want you to go, when I heard the news I felt so sad. I at least wanted to spend one last night with you. I wish you would have come and found me. Why didn't you come find me yesterday? No matter, I will visit you soon I promise. There's always a rift or two that needs sealing around those parts, I'll make sure I stay at the Griffon Wing Keep often.’

‘No you misunderstand me.’ the ex-chevalier replied somewhat coldly. ‘We need some time apart. You and I.’

Throwing him a bemused frown, I looked at Michel in jest before realising the ex-chevalier’s stern expression was not diminishing. Never had I seen it before, and it took me somewhat aback. Touching his arm in concern, I tried to get Michel’s attention but he remained stone-faced, staring at the ground.

‘Michel, what's the matter?’ I asked softly ‘What has happened?’

‘There are some things in life that are fruitless, Ophelia.’ murmured Michel ‘You and I would never work out and I see that now. You should be with Cullen.’

Raising my brows, I threw him a bewildered look ‘Cullen? Michel what is going on? Did Cullen say something to you?’

Michel shook his head. ‘No, I just had some time to think about you and I. This is my decision. I'm sorry Ophelia, I need this time to take a break from us. Perhaps you and I were never meant to be.’

Casting my eyes around the courtyard, I was expecting to see some elaborate joke unfold. Perhaps it was Michel’s odd sense of Orlesian humour coming to entertain me? I was ready to laugh out loud and be the first to admit I had been fooled. What a wonderful joke! Yet there was nothing except the silence of the morning breeze and my growing concern in its stead.

‘Michel?’ I chuckled ‘Stop this nonsense. I know you do not wish to leave Skyhold but you will be back soon and we will be together once more. You do not think I am to blame for you leaving? Is that why you're angry with me?’

‘That has nothing to do with my decision.’ remarked Michel, turning his eyes from mine ‘I meant what I said, I cannot be with you.’

‘So you advise me to go back to the man you have been telling me all this time does not deserve me?’ I exasperated ‘Michel, what in the blazes is going on!? Admit it, Cullen must have said something to you?’

Michel remained stone faced as I looked upon him in bewilderment.

‘I love you.’ I replied, grabbing his hands firmly ‘You love me, don’t you?’

Michel pulled his hand away from mine, frowning. ‘Please Ophelia do not make this any harder than it already is.’ 

‘What? One day you tell me you have loved me since you arrived at Skyhold, and then next we are simply over?’ I observed impatiently ‘Stop this! Whatever is going on, you can tell me! What could have happened so suddenly that you have no feelings for me? Did our time in Ferelden mean nothing to you? Was that all an act?’

‘Go back to Cullen.’ replied Michel ‘You should never have been with me.’

‘Cullen broke my heart, remember? You put it back together again.’ I replied desperately ‘I know you Michel, you would never say such hurtful things to me. Please speak to me, tell me what has happened? Michel please, I love you.’

Tenderly I grabbed his hand again, but the knight pulled it away, causing me to gasp in surprise.

Rising from his seat, Michel looked down at me with terribly sad eyes. ‘I'm sorry. You do not see it now, but it has to be this way. Goodbye Ophelia.’

Without a kiss, touch or fond embrace, the Maister of Blades walked away, pushing roughly past the foliage of the maple and trampling over several of the violets on the ground as he made his way back to the courtyard.

Utterly perplexed, I remained once more alone in the garden with only my miserable confusion to keep me company.


	30. The Master

  


Boots pounding hard against the stone floors of Skyhold I brushed past several surprised citizens gossiping in the main hall. Pressing on without apology or hesitation, my jaw was clenched in fury as I thought back upon what had just happened. The abrupt departure of Michel had been hard enough to deal with, and yet to process his cold dismissal of me was even more aggravating than I could have possibly imagined. Michel’s caring nature and the gentility of his affections had put no doubt in my mind as to where I stood with him up until this morning. 

The man I had spoken to in the garden at dawn was not him. Not even an echo of the Michel de Chevin I knew. 

Had it all been an act? Could I have been that naive to his true nature?

'Not even the greatest troubadours of Antiva could have put on a performance like that.' I muttered to myself. 

Diligent in pace, I was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. There had to be a culprit to blame for Michel's behaviour, and I knew where to find him. Pushing the large wooden doors open to the war room I barged in unannounced, startling a soldier talking to Cullen and producing a raised eyebrow from the Commander himself.

‘Inquisitor.’ greeted Cullen formerly ‘We are not scheduled for a war counsel? I'm in the middle of some matters regarding the infantry we've posted in the Emerald Greaves.’

‘I'm not here to discuss war counsel matters Commander.’ I informed bluntly, glaring at him with a look of utter disapproval. 'We need to discuss some matters.'

The Commander tilted his head curiously at my outburst. Suspecting I would not be ushered away so easily, Cullen threw a nod to the man beside him. ‘Gibbs perhaps we should reschedule this for this afternoon? Thank you, that will be all for now.’ 

'Yes Commander.'

As Gibbs passed me, I glowered at the Commander until the doors closed behind me.

'Is there something I can help you with?' inquired Cullen curiously, taking in my irritation with a smirk.

Scoffing at the comment, I was in no mood to entertain his feigned innocence. ‘Don't play games Cullen. I know what you did. You had no right to send him away. But that doesn't even begin to crack at the surface, does it? What else did you do? I'm not leaving here until I know what you did to him.'

Cullen casually flung the papers on the table, looking up at me with an amused smile. ‘I assume you are referring to Michel being sent to the Western Approach? It's quite simply really. He's needed in the Griffon Wing Keep while Commander Rylen recovers from his injuries. Honestly there is no better person I could entrust such a job.’

‘What utter tripe!’ I scorned ‘You would have me believe there is only one man in your entire army that you entrust to fill Rylen's role? And it happens to be the one man you have personal issues with? No. You did this to separate Michel and I.’

Cullen chuckled to himself. ‘That I admit was an extra perk in an otherwise unfortunate set of circumstances. Truth be told I cannot even claim responsibility for it. Leliana had arranged for Michel to be sent to the keep before I was even made aware of what had happened to Rylen. I may not be too fond of your ex-chevalier at present but I would have chosen he stay here. Michel helps me greatly in Skyhold. Now I have additional work and am hardly delighted at the prospect. I dare say I'll be missing the chevalier come the end of the week.’

'Bullshit.' I replied. 

Cullen paused, throwing me a stern look as his patience waned. ‘Do you really think I would jeopardise the Inquisition merely to interfere with your dalliance with Michel? Stop for a moment and think. Rylen was injured and he needed a replacement. Michel has had years of experience in positions of leadership. He was the head of the Order of the Chevaliers. That instantly makes him overqualified for any position in the Inquisition, I can guarantee you that. So naturally Michel was the suitable choice for Rylen's Commanding position. That is why Michel was sent to the Griffon Wing Keep. There is nothing calculating about this scenario.’

Throwing him a furious look, I shook my head. ‘Perhaps not in isolation of the fact but you said something to him, didn’t you? What did you say to him?’

‘Safe journey Michel, send Rylen my best wishes.’ replied Cullen bluntly ‘Was that too forward?’

‘Cullen just be honest and tell me the truth? Whatever it is then at least I know and maybe I can make some sense of all this.’

Remaining calm, Cullen ran his eyes over me, an ever subtle curiosity growing in his expression. ‘I did tell you the truth. Why do you press me? Has Michel done something?’

Throwing my companion a frown, I eased down onto a wooden chair in front of the table. Resting my elbows against the wood I stared blankly at the map of Thedas before me. From the manner of Cullen I could tell he was being honest. There was nothing to make me think otherwise. In fact, the man looked as puzzled as I was. 

‘Michel was acting very strange this morning.' I muttered 'I could have sworn it was your fault?’

Cullen raised an amused eyebrow ‘I've heard that before.’ The Commander proceeded to recommence reading his papers before stopping once again to notice my somber demeanor wasn't subsiding. ‘Strange you say? What do you mean he was acting strange?’ 

‘Don’t worry about it.’ I sighed, standing up to leave ‘I have to go.’

‘Ophelia,’ warned Cullen sternly ‘if you're going to barge in here to hurl false accusations at me then at least have the common courtesy to enlighten me of what is going on? You said he was acting strange? What did he do?’

Shaking my head, I refused to tell him. 'It's personal Cullen.'

'Maker help me, I would dearly love to keep it that way.' reassured Cullen 'However considering how other late members of Skyhold were also acting strange I feel obliged to get to the bottom of this now. Tell me.'

Frowning at the man, I retreated to the window. Outside was a beautiful sunny day, and that made me feel all the worse. ‘You needn't worry, he's not acting strange like Mabel Guildersleeve. It's just a private matter. Michel told me we needed some time apart. He just...broke up with me. Just broke up. It was completely out of the blue.’. Angrily I looked to the Commander, flinging my arm towards him. ‘Go on, laugh. Have your fun. I see you have achieved the result you were after?’

With raised brows Cullen chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. ‘I'm just surprised, the man is a bigger fool than I gave credit. May I ask why he broke up with you?’

‘You can, and if you find out please let me know.’ I muttered darkly ‘Michel gave me no reason. He just said he need a break and told me to go back to you.’

The Commander looked at me in disbelief. ‘Michel de Chevin said that? We are talking about the same man here?’ 

‘Honestly?’ I urged ‘Did you say something to him?’

‘Of course not. Well, no that is not entirely true. A few days ago I told him I would have you back.’ replied Cullen with a smirk 'Eventually. Of course, I didn't expect him to throw in the towel and concede defeat already. Not that I'm complaining.'

Cheeks flushing, I drummed my fingers on the table trying to distract myself from the comment. ‘No, that wouldn't have made Michel act like that. There had to have been something else?'

‘Although,’ continued Cullen ‘if I saw Michel now I would have told him he was a coward for lacking the decency to inform you why he was ending your tryst. Interesting how his chivalry evaporates the moment he loses interest.’

‘Michel is anything but a coward. Something must have happened to him because he wouldn't act that way unless something had.’

‘As you wish to see it.’ muttered Cullen under his breath, drawing his attention back to the papers. ‘People always wish to see the best or worst in people when sometimes they deserve quite the opposite.’

Frowning I returned to the desk, placing my hands firmly on the desk. ‘What did you do to him?’

Cullen sighed as he placed his hands against the desk also, looking directly at me from the other side of the wood. ‘Nothing. You always fail to see the true depths of one’s character with the clarity. I hope for your sake that one day you will. Until then, know this. Michel de Chevin is not the perfect knight he makes himself known to be. We are more than our armour. More than our tales of glory.’

Scoffing at the observation, I refused to look away from the man as we glared at each other. ‘I'm not stupid Cullen. I think I know Michel a little better than that? I know the man behind the bravado.’

‘Do you?’ questioned Cullen doubtfully ‘I’d say you were the most naive of all the women in Skyhold. Even Michel’s regulars were wiser than you, and they all dropped to their knees whenever The Maister of Blades walked past.’

‘Stop talking about him like that!’ I replied angrily ‘He didn't have regulars. That's not who he is. Look at all the good he has done for the Inquisition.’

The Commander shook his head. ‘I wasn't casting judgement on his abilities as a soldier, just his lascivious nature. You needn't take my word however, ask the soldiers in the barracks.’

Growing a little concerned by Cullen’s convictions, I was beginning to wonder if I had been wrong? The ex-chevalier’s actions this morning indicated that I didn't know the man as well as I had thought. In fact, from what I had witnessed I didn't know the man at all.

'Michel isn't like that.' I argued. 

‘Ophelia please.' scoffed Cullen, throwing down his papers once more. 'That man is infamous for stringing along women.'

'Mere rumours.' 

'Think about it.' continued Cullen 'Do you really think an Orlesian noble who was the head of the Order of Chevaliers and Champion to the Empress would not have his glut of women on the side?'. The Commander held out his hand, counting on his fingers as he listed Michel's supposed attributes. 'He's rich, Orlesian, a chevalier, has a hand full of spectacular titles and has golden hair. I'm not fond of the man but even I can't dispute the facts. Women flock to him because he's too good to be true. And surprise surprise he's not. I've it on good authority Michel had several favourites at the keep at any given time. Perhaps he grew tired of you?’

Cullen smiled calmly, his amber eyes scrutinising me with pleasure as I grew more and more furious. His words were effective because I was feeling jealously hurt and more than a little betrayed now. In my enraged silence, Cullen shrugged and withdrew to the corner of the room where a small table resided with refreshments. He commenced to pour himself a glass of wine without a care in the world. With anger in my eyes and without hesitation I walked over to Cullen. Swiping my hand somewhat viciously, I lunged over and knocked the full glass from his hand, spilling the crimson contents all over the floor, the shards of glass smashing across the floor

‘Fun, is it not, when someone tries to interfere with your life?’ I pointed out angrily. Grabbing the bottle off the table, I was about to do the same as the glass on the floor.

Cullen grabbed my arm sharply, squeezing it brutally hard and causing me to place the bottle tentatively back as I winced in pain. With a smile on his lips, Cullen ran his eyes over my incensed face.

‘Are you truly this angry at me over nothing?’ he observed playfully ‘Or do you merely wish to release this frustration on me?’

Using my other I pushed him aggressively in the chest, all my strength doing little to move the armoured warrior before me. Cullen frowned, grabbing my other arm, and pulling them behind my back as he stood firmly in front of me.

‘Have you finished?’ he asked seriously 'Do I have to shackle you because you cannot control yourself? Or should I address this matter formally and punish you for striking the Commander of the Inquisition?'. He smiled at me, as if the idea piqued his interest. 

‘Let me go!’ I yelled before drawing a leg up to kick him in the shin.

Cullen let go of me in surprise, and I turned to leave the room furiously. Wrenching the war room doors open, I felt a rough pair of hands come from behind me and push the door closed once more. Grabbing me by the shoulders, Cullen wrenched me around to face him as he pushed me hard against the wooden door, securing my wrists with his strong hands.

‘Michel left me because of you!’ I shouted, meeting his eyes with blinding fury 'You can't let me be happy for one moment, can you? You made him leave me!'

‘No Ophelia, Michel left because of you.’ growled Cullen in reply ‘He knew what you refuse to accept.’. Leaning over me, Cullen whispered darkly in my ear. ‘Are you ready to acknowledge your true feelings yet? Or shall we play this game a little longer?’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ I lied, causing Cullen to laugh in response.

Cullen drew his lips inches from mine, teasing me as he stared into my eyes.

‘Michel’s love for you is soft rain on a pond.’ Cullen observed, lightly touching his lips against mine ‘My love for you is a tempest on the wildest of seas. You know this.’

The Commander's amber eyes held mine, strong and silent. 

My eyes lowered, as I surrendered to the man's authoritative glare. My feelings were divided and now terribly confused. To witness Cullen with another women, and find myself in the loving arms of Michel, only to find out Cullen was not to blame. And then to hear Michel didn't want anything to do with me at all. I had found my affections divided in that moment. Now Michel had left me without a word. It seemed cruel, and cruel was something Michel was incapable of.

‘I cannot betray him, no matter how much I desire you.’ I warned ‘Josephine pushed us away, and Michel was there for me. I cannot betray him now.’

‘Yet you would betray our love time and time again by refusing to embrace it with that passion that I know stirs in your heart.’ accused Cullen heatedly, pushing my body firmer against the door ‘Michel left you, you said it yourself.’ Refusing to release my hands, he pushed them tighter against the wood. ‘I can see that you want me.’ Cullen continued, a wicked curl growing on his lip ‘Your breathing is shallow, and your eyes have that hazy look in them whenever you want to be fucked. I would be betting that your skin is covered in shivers, your nipples painfully hard.’. Cullen paused, his mouth drawing close to my ear ‘I am betting your sweetness is dripping and ever so swollen, begging in mercy for it's master.’

My breathing grew faster as Cullen remained inches from my face, staring deeply into my eyes.

‘Ask me to touch you.’ he ordered, his eyes dancing with a burning fire of desire ‘Let me deprave you, but only if you ask.’

Moving my hands I resisted and Cullen released me with a smirk, pulling his hands away and holding them up as he stepped back.

I was free to leave and yet I did not move a step from my position.

‘Cullen-’ 

‘Ask me.’ encouraged Cullen patiently. It was abundantly clear he was enjoying watching me struggle. It was abundantly clear he was my master and not in the mood to play friendly. 

Running his fingers to his cuirass Cullen began to slowly unbuckle the sides, before unfolding the red sash around the metal, and black feather gorget around his neck. The heavy thud of armour fell hard on the stone floor, as the Commander continued to remove his trappings.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked hastily, my eyes nervously watching the man strip himself of his armour.

‘What does it look like I am doing?’ observed Cullen calmly ‘I find it better to fuck naked than fully dressed in armour. Of course I could do that if you wish?’

‘I never agreed we were going to do that!’ I blurted out 'I came here to find out what you said to Michel. That is all!'. 

‘Of course you are free to leave whenever you choose.’ replied Cullen with a wanton smile ‘Just open the doors and leave. I promise I won't stop you.’

Now dressed only in a black shirt and pants, Cullen continued to smile at me, peeling off the black cloth to expose his large naked chest, a mighty brawn board of ripples, and his large bare arms rounded with muscles. The ex-templar refused to tear his eyes from mine as he brushed his hand through his sandy waves, messily scattered in a playful way, a mischievous smile on his lips that silently invited me to come play. That delightful smirk on his lips, and I could see the muscles in his jaw bulge as he swallowed. Small things to witness perhaps, but they were sending ripples of excitement through my body.

Stepping slowly towards me, Cullen drew his hands firmly on each side of my waist, holding me secure.

‘Ask me Ophelia.’ Cullen demanded ‘Let me seed you. I want to come deep and hard.’

The pounding in my chest screamed out for me to submit and for all my willpower I could not ignore it.

‘Of course I want you.’ I admitted nervously, allowing Cullen to pull me closer to him.

Cullen shook his head sternly. ‘That is not the proper way to address your master.’

‘Please…master.’ I replied in a shaky whisper, unable to tear my attention off the half naked ex-templar before me.

‘Please what?’ asked Cullen sternly, his eyes drilling into mine as he held me tight at my waist 'Have you forgotten all your manners? Do you not know how to speak to your master properly?'

‘Please fuck me, master.’ 

‘Good, you're a fast learner.’ smiled Cullen pulling me towards him. Pressed against his chest I drew my breath as I felt his warmth through my clothing, and his wonderful scent invading my senses. Sweet amber and musk, that lingering scent of his skin that was his alone and smelt sweeter than anything I had ever experienced. A scent that made me desire him wildly and uncontrollably.

Leaning down, Cullen clutched my cheeks in his large palms, drawing his lips to mine, and in a savage embrace the ex-templar suddenly devoured my mouth with enthusiasm. All the energy and frustration flooded into each other as we kissed, our lips running over each other’s faces in savage hunger. Cullen was brutal with his mouth, plunging deep into mine as his tongue lapped and dived, sucking and biting at my lip. I was at his mercy in his untamed state and I loved the way he took what he wanted so passionately.

Cullen grinned as he ran his lips to my neck, kissing furiously as his hands hastily reached for my top, his lips withdrawing from my skin only to wrench the clothing over my head, exposing my naked chest.

‘Cullen wait, shouldn't we go somewhere else?.’ I breathlessly whispered, drawing my hands fondly through his hair as he lowered his mouth to my breasts.

Drawing his head up, Cullen wrapped his large hand around my neck, not tight enough to restrict air but firm enough to show he was in charge. ‘You will call me by my title or be punished. Is that understood?’

'Yes master.' I gasped.

'You don't need to worry about where you are or what you are doing. Only that you do what I tell you.' chastised the Commander 'Am I understood?'

‘Yes master.’ I replied, growing more and more excited by the moment. I had missed this side of Cullen. That shadowy beast of the man unleashed, a savage yet occasionally kind master demanding my submission for our mutual pleasure. It had been so long and I was desperately craving it. Every stern word drew me into a heated frenzy, every rough act made me begging for more.

Cullen’s eyes softened for a moment. ‘Ophelia,’ he remarked seriously ‘we have never talked about where this was leading although I have encouraged yourself to open up to me before. If we are to play this game of dominance and submission, you need to know a few things. Being a submissive does not make you secondary to me. Your pleasure is equal to mine. I may be the master, but you as a submissive do not receive any less enjoyment. However I will push the limits of what I do to you. That is how a master works with his submissive. I will take you in ways that might scare you, but if you trust me then you will learn there is nothing to fear. When I dominate you, I am always watching your reaction. Your reaction to my actions excites me, naturally, but it is also important for me to constantly read your reactions and understand your limits. Of course I cannot read your mind and if you are scared or do not want me to do something, I want you to tell me.’

‘Cullen we’ve been playing at this for a while now.’ I pointed out dryly, feeling like a mage being lectured by a templar ‘This is not so new to me.’

Cullen laughed, running his thumb across his lip as he looked at me deviously. ‘Would you believe me if I said I was holding back until now?’ he informed with a dark smile 'Small steps for learners, that's my motto.'

‘Oh?’ I chuckled ‘Is that so?’

‘It was a small taste of what I offer,’ continued Cullen ‘of course I needed to know you were willing to partake and now I clearly see that you enjoy what we have done so far. Now however is the next step. The step where you offer yourself to me fully and accept that role of submissive, while I claim responsibility and protection over you as your dominant. Your master. My role is not to hurt you and you must always know there is a way to stop if I do something you are not comfortable with. Every submissive should have a safe word they can use at any time. Yours will be mercy.’

‘Mercy?’ I nodded in amusement 'Fair enough.'

‘Yes.’ replied Cullen sternly ‘This is serious Ophelia, you need to listen carefully to what I have to say, for that word alone will make me stop. Begging and whimpering may not produce the same result for I intend to produce these reactions from you. I wish you to cry out, to writhe, to agonise and scream under my touch. I will inflict pain and pleasure on you, but you need to know you are always in control.’

A threw a curious look to him, wondering what Cullen was really capable of if not what I had experienced so far.

‘Okay?’ I replied hesitantly ‘So what now?’

‘I want to be honest with you.’ continued Cullen seriously, grabbing my hands in his. ‘You're not the first person I've dominated for sexual pleasure. I've had submissives in the past. This life is not new to me as it is to you.’

‘What!? More than one?’ I asked a little jealously. Of course it was foolish to assume I was the first submissive Cullen had come across. I suspected Cullen had indulged in a lot of sex given his confidence , but to have actually had more than one submissive?

Cullen ran his hand softly along my cheek. ‘It was before I knew you, but yes. Three in total.’

‘At the same time!’ I protested.

‘No!’ he replied in amusement ‘Leliana keeps many submissives at the same time, but I only keep one. Only ever one at a time.’

‘So what?’ I frowned ‘You had three submissives and grew bored of them after a while? Is this what I can look forward to?’

Cullen drew his lips to mine and kissed me deeply before pulling back. ‘You are the first person I've fallen in love with Ophelia. I was only interested in physical pleasure with my other subs, and when they began growing too attached I would let them go. At that stage of my life I had no room for deeper feelings. I did not want them.’

Perhaps I was pleased at the answer but some part of me felt sorry for those women. Women like me who wanted nothing more than to be loved by Cullen.

‘So you broke their hearts?’ I observed quietly.

Cullen rolled his eyes. 'Broke their hearts? You've been spending too much time with that poetical cliché of an Orlesian.'

'Well you have a habit of toying with people's emotions.' I pointed out bluntly.

‘No, they each knew what I was prepared to offer and what I was prepared to withhold.’ he informed sternly 'It was a relationship based on gratification, not love.'. Throwing a sad smile, he added ‘I know you experienced a similar introduction with me when I told you I could offer you nothing but lust. Even from the start, I'm very open with what I am willing to give.’

‘How could I forget? That is why I can strangely empathise with your other companions. Your inability to connect with me emotionally nearly drove me insane.’

‘You forget I was even more hardened in Kirkwall.’ reminded Cullen ‘You didn't know that person, thank the Maker. I was Knight-Captain, a templar in a powerful position that fed my obsession to fear and hate mages. All I wanted was to purge, fuck and forget, and I revelled in that self-destructive cycle. The women who indulged in my sexual desires knew I was after no more than that.’. Cullen drew his eyes intently into mine. ‘You were the first to teach me how to connect once more. To feel. That is one of the many reasons why I love you.’

‘Cullen do you hate me for being with Michel?’ I asked apprehensively 'We slept together, you know that?'

The ex-templar breathed out a heavy sigh, running his hands through my hair tenderly. ‘I'll be the first to admit that I do not enjoy thinking about the concept of you being with Michel. However given the circumstances and my part in what happened, I can see why you found yourself running off with Michel. I can't imagine you enjoyed seeing me being with Mabel? At least I didn't have to watch you and Michel. No I don't hate you. I do, however, hate the ex-chevalier who took advantage of you.’

‘I'm to blame as much as he.’ I replied guiltily 'He didn't force me into anything.'

‘No, Michel took you when you were vulnerable.’ informed Cullen sternly ‘Don't tell me otherwise for that fact is as clear as day. You had just seen me with Mabel and you were hurting. Did he wait until you and I spoke about it? Broke up or stayed together? No Ophelia, he didn't. He took you away from your familiar surroundings and waited for that moment to fuck you. No man of honour would have taken you away in the state you were. It was an opportunistic move. Trust me, another man can easily read another man’s actions and motives.’

‘Can you forgive me? Michel obviously wasn't the person I thought he was. I'm so sorry Cullen.'

‘Of course I forgive you.’ replied Cullen gently ‘I love you Ophelia.’. He grew more serious as he held my gaze ‘If we are together now then I expect both of us to remain that way. That means no more Michel. No more stolen kisses or intrigues. Are you ready to make that commitment?’

I knew in my heart I wanted Cullen. Not by default because Michel had left, but because that yearning for him had never ceased. Cullen was right, we did share a bond that bound us together. As much as I had convinced myself otherwise, I could not ignore the fire that burned in my heart for Cullen.

‘Yes Cullen, I'm ready.’ I replied. Drawing my arms around Cullen, I kissed him deeply. ‘I want to give myself to you. Every part. To be yours. To submit and please you in whatever way you desire.’

I could feel Cullen’s member twinge against me as I said those words, his body responding as he kissed me passionately in response.

‘This pleases me.‘ murmured Cullen, running his hands affectionately along my arms ‘I am yours and yours alone. To protect and keep you safe, and to nurture and support you. To dominate you and to watch over you, to punish and reward you.’. Leaning forward, he placed one tender kiss on my forehead. ‘Now, let us begin.’

‘In the war room?’ I questioned once more.

Grabbing my hands, Cullen forcibly rammed them back against the door again ‘You do not speak unless I ask you a question, my pet.’. His eyes pierced sternly into mine as he held me there. ‘Now what do you say?’

‘Sorry master.’ I replied quickly, my breathing growing faster 'Forgive me. Please, forgive me.'' 

‘Good, now let that be your final warning.’ replied Cullen releasing my arms ‘Next time I will punish you.’

Lowering his mouth onto my breasts, one by one he sucked my nipples hard, his fingers pressing firm into the flesh of my waist as he devoured me, grazing his teeth against my nubs and pulling them out. Moaning from the feelings of his hot mouth on my breasts, I writhed under his touch. The Commander was ravenous, and held me firm with his strong arms. Withdrawing his lips, Cullen started to put more pressure on my nipples with his fingers, playfully squeezing before working his way into pinching harder and more sharply until I could feel the pain in his ministrations.

‘Good girl.’ murmured Cullen as he continued to work his fingers harder into my already firm nipples, his eyes ever watchful of my response to his actions ‘Work with it, take your pain. Something you must know about me is that I crave your pain response. Sadistic, I know...but there is something exquisite about torturing you and then pleasuring you. Seeing you balancing fearfully on that fence, never knowing which way you are going to fall.’

Bending down, his tongue lapped at my nipples before his teeth bit on them playfully. I cried out as his teeth sank harder into my flesh, followed by warm laps of his tongue.

Withdrawing his head with a smirk, Cullen wrapped his arms around me tight, pulling my body against his warm chest, the two of us melting into each other as he continued to ravage me with kisses. I could feel the bulge in the pants prod at me, and I ran my fingers to his crotch only for Cullen to pull away.

‘No my little pet.’ murmured Cullen, a dark smile on his lips ‘You do not get to play with that yet. I want to push our boundaries a little before we get there.’

‘Yes master.’ I replied with narrowed eyes, suspicious at what he was planning. 

‘Good girl. Now, take all your clothes off.’ ordered Cullen, leaning back to sit against the table as he crossed his arms sternly. 'Hurry up, I haven't got all day.'

Carefully I peeled off all my clothing until I was naked, the Commander watching me intently the entire time and taking my nakedness in with pleasure. Silently he continued to watch me, disinterested at my growing embarrassment as I just stood there and waited for him to say or do something. It was a drawn out inspection, his eyes painfully examining every part of me. Finally after what seemed an eternity, Cullen stood up. 

‘Bend over the table,’ ordered Cullen ‘face down and arse up.’

My cheeks grew hot at the directness of the order. Cullen had changed into a dark master, and his stern commands chilled me with nervous anticipation.

Pushing my chest against the war table, I lay half my body against the rough map while leaving my feet still on the ground. I could hear footsteps approach as Cullen came behind me.

‘Shouldn’t we lock the doors to the war room?’ I asked fearfully.

Thwack!

I cried out as I felt a strong hand slap my arse cheeks forcefully. It left a sting and I bit my lip.

‘I warned you about speaking unless spoken to.’ replied Cullen from behind ‘I think ten more reminders will help you remember. Count them for me.’

Smack!

‘One.’ I began, enjoying the sensation from his firm hand

On Cullen’s second strike, I winced as it became a little harder.

‘Two.’ I called out.

Suddenly I felt four powerful slaps across my buttocks, causing me to cry out. They hurt.

‘Keep counting.’ Cullen ordered sternly.

‘Three, four, five, six.’

Whack!

‘Ow!’ I cried out as Cullen’s hand left a burning sting ‘Seven.’

Cullen rubbed my arse for a moment, the large palm stroking my heated flesh. ‘You're doing so well, but I need to punish you. The next one is going to really hurt. I need you to be a good girl and brace yourself.’

Biting my lip I waited for several minutes in deathly silence as time passed us by. Cullen was obviously trying to torment me, knowing that waiting for my punishment was almost as torturous as experiencing it.

Thwack!!!

Crying out in pain, the sting from his hand burned like fire. I could tell Cullen was now using his strength in his blows and this one caused me to draw my breath at the force.

‘Eight.’

‘Two more my love.’ Cullen cooed ‘Are you ready? These last two are going to make your arse very, very sore. I'm sorry I know I'm going to bruise you from these, and you need to prepare yourself. Are you ready?’

'Yes, master.'

I braced myself as he landed the final two hardest smacks across my arse that I could have ever anticipated. The table shuddered from the impact and I screamed out from the pain. Cullen moaned in approval from behind me, bending down immediately to place tender kisses on my buttocks.

‘Nine, ten.’ I whimpered.

‘Good, you took your punishment so well.’ murmured Cullen softly between kisses ‘Your arse is so red and beautiful now, like a ripe peach.'. Trailing his finger along my crack, his finger fell to my cunt to run over the wetness. 'Ripe like a peach, and just as juicy.' he admired 'I bet you'd like me to fill that juicy peach, wouldn't you?'

'Yes master.'

Chuckling, Cullen playfully slapped my arse. I winced in pain. 

'No I don't think you've been good enough for that reward.' observed Cullen 'But I'm not that mean. You deserve a little treat. Now, stay where you are.’

Ever so lightly, Cullen ran his fingers across my back, massaging my shoulders deeply. He maneuvered his hands expertly into my knots, relaxing me under his touch. Cullen had a way of manipulating my muscles, pressing in all the right spots and then placing deep kisses down my spine. His soft lips excited me to the point where I wanted nothing more than to roll over and pull him into me. But the man refused to do anything but massage and kiss my back. After a long session of pampering, Cullen continued to run his hands to my lower back. His gentle hands eased into my muscles again, and I felt myself unwind as his large fingers caressed me. After a while Cullen ran his hands lightly across my buttocks, trailing to my thighs and then even lower to my exposed labia as I remained bent over on the table. I drew a quick breath as I felt Cullen run one finger push lightly between my folds.

‘You are exquisitely wet.’ he observed in approval ‘You must like being punished?’

‘I like everything you do to me Master.’ I replied.

‘Everything? Is that so?’ chuckled Cullen ‘Well, we will have to try out everything on you in due course now, won’t we?’

Cullen trailed his finger across my glistening lips, coating his fore finger in my juices and teasing me by probing his large digit into me in one deep stroke, before trailing back to the puckered rosebud of my arse.

'Everything includes places like here.' he informed calmly.

I felt the gentle hand of the Commander spread open my cheeks, only to gasp at the sensation of his finger softly lingering at the entrance of my derriere. Thankfully I was facing away from my companion, for my face was now bright red, flushed with embarrassment.

‘Has anyone ever sodomised you before?’ Cullen asked curiously, teasing his finger delicately around the ring of muscle. The way he asked was so matter of fact, as if he was asking someone how their day was. 

‘No master.’ I replied in embarrassment, my heart beating rapidly.

‘You may like it? I would like to show you how it feels. Would you permit me?’ asked Cullen formally, as if politely addressing a stranger.

‘Yes master.’ I replied shakily, knowing I had never been touched there before but growing more and more aroused by the concept. 'If it pleases you?' 

The Commander laughed quietly to himself from behind. ‘Oh it pleases me.’ he replied, keeping his finger at my bud ‘I can see you pulsating at my touch, it likes the idea of being played with. I want you to take a deep breath and relax while you let me in. It will feel strange for a while but you'ill adjust.’

Using his forefinger, Cullen eased slowly into my ring causing me to gasp at the intrusion. It was tight, a little uncomfortable, extremely humiliating but also strangely erotic. I felt his finger push through the first ring of muscle, fighting his digit for a moment before it eased in. Cullen moaned softly as he worked his finger in deeper, apparently quite turned on at the display. His spare hand pulled at my buttocks as he admired the view, his deep breaths releasing into almost a growl of its own. ‘That's the way.’ he whispered ‘Maker how I love playing with my subs back here, you all enjoy master's fingers massaging you in the naughty passage. Watching your delicate little bud open for me is making me very hard.’

His lips fell to the crook of my neck as Cullen began kissing me enthusiastically whilst his fingers continued to play. The heat of his dick seered into my skin as he pressed himself against me, growing more and more aroused as his digit teased and tantalised. I moaned, feeling his finger push in slowly until he was up to his knuckle and then withdraw, only to repeat the motion again and again. Using his other finger, Cullen scooped more of my wetness from my dripping lips.

‘You are doing so well my pet, let me try two now.’ murmured Cullen, coating his fore and middle finger with my wetness before easing them gently into my arse. I tightened at the wide intrusion and Cullen stopped.

'Yeah I don't think that's going to fit.' I grimaced. 

'You'd be surprised.' replied Cullen 'Just take a deep breath and relax. I'll go slow until you feel ready.'

The Commander kept his pressure and allowed me to ease around his fingers and open to them before he began to ease into my passage, a little more firmly now, drawing them in and out, in and out. Groaning at the tight and pleasurable ministrations of Cullen, I began to writhe on the table.

‘It shouldn’t cause you pain.’ he informed me as he continued to kiss my neck deeply ‘If it does, you must tell me to stop.’

Pressing his hot body against mine, the man continued to sate his desire. 

‘You are doing so well.’ reassured Cullen ‘Already you are opening up for me so much, trusting me and letting me in. This makes me happy. Do you like the feel of my fingers inside of you?’

‘Yes master.’ I whispered. I started to buck against his hand, enjoying the sensation more and more. ‘Are you going to fuck me there?'

Grinning, I turned around to see Cullen chuckling at the question.

‘Do you want me to?’ he asked with a raised brow.

‘Maybe?’ I chuckled 'I have no idea.' 

Thwack.

I winced as Cullen slapped my buttocks hard. ‘That is not how you address me. Do I need to punish you again?’

‘Sorry Master.’ I replied, concealing a smile.

‘I plan to take you up the arse on many many occasions, but not today.’ informed Cullen sternly ‘Your muscles need to adjust slowly before being able to take something as big as master's cock up there.’

My heart dropped a little, being more that a little titillated at the concept of Cullen driving his meaty cock into me. If a finger or two felt that good, what would Cullen’s throbbing dick feel like?

‘Trust me,’ warned Cullen mischievously ‘it's taking all my willpower not to ravage you up there right now...but it is for the best that we ease you into that first.’

I felt Cullen’s lips kiss me softly on each buttock before pulling me off the table to face him. The Commander withdrew to his clothing laying on the ground to withdraw the raven feather gorget.

Cullen smiled as he ran the feathers across my skin, tickling my breasts and belly before he walked around to drag the gorget lightly across my back. Pulling my arms behind me, Cullen grabbed my wrists as he tied the material firmly around my hands.

‘Kneel.’ ordered Cullen.

Falling to my knees, I watched as Cullen stood in front of me, my face staring directly at his crotch.

‘Take out my cock.’ ordered Cullen.

Throwing him a confused look, I knew I couldn’t do anything with my hands bound behind my back.

‘Use your teeth.’ suggested Cullen with a devious smile, pressing his hardness against my face.

Biting into the soft black material, I pulled it down, once, twice, three times before I managed to yank the material down and over his hard member. It sprang out before my face, rock hard and erect, a splendid thick and large specimen that radiated a blood filled warmth, slapping firm against my cheek.

My lips reached out to his purple head, but Cullen took a step back.

‘No. You need to learn that your body is mine.’ informed Cullen sternly ‘You never do anything unless I tell you to. Do you understand?’

‘Yes master, I am sorry.’ I replied, lowering my eyes.

Stepping forward, Cullen drew my chin up so I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He ran his thumb across my lips ‘Your mouth is mine, as is every other part of your body. Your thoughts, your senses, your desires, your heart and your soul…they are all mine.’

‘They are all yours master.’ I replied obediently. Whether this was just a game or not, I knew deep down everything belonged to Cullen. That concept excited me, but also scared me just a little. How could I feel that way about someone?

Holding his thick erection in one hand, Cullen weighed it in his hand for several minutes, teasing it in front of me as I remained quiet on my knees. Eventually Cullen stepped forward, presenting it to my lips.

‘Open your mouth now and taste your master.’ he ordered.

My heart fluttered as I laid my eyes on Cullen’s engorged head of his large cock, lingering at my lips. One small drop of pre-cum oozed from the slit at the top of his bulbous head. My tongue greedily lapped at the salty drop, and I felt his member twinge as Cullen smiled wickedly above. His body shuddered as I wrapped my mouth around his head and took him in. Cullen's body bent over me and I felt his hands gently interlace through my hair as he began to move in and out of my mouth, not too deep to begin with. His sandy locks spilled over his head as he looked down at me, taking pleasure in watching me devour his cock. Taking a step forward towards me, he tilted my head back a bit and stroked my throat as he eased his cock in deeper.

‘That's the way,’ Cullen murmured ‘relax your throat and let me in further.’

He dipped his cock in at the new angle, enjoying the sensation of it falling deeper into my mouth. However Cullen’s cock was too big and before too long I choked, drawing back from his large fleshy intruder.

‘Sorry master.’ I spluttered.

‘Too much?’ grinned Cullen ‘You're doing so well my pet. In time you will be able to take me in entirely, and that is when I will begin filling your throat so you can drink me when I come. Not tonight however.’

Heart pounding in my chest, Cullen's calm premonitions of what was to come in the future sent me into wild anticipation. 

Running my tongue along his shaft, I bent down lower to run my tongue along his balls. My hands reached out to grasp them and I drew a delighted gasp at how exquisitely soft yet heavy they were, a large sack of fleshy delight that I found myself strangely fond of massaging between my fingers. From the deep breathing of Cullen, I could tell he enjoyed the sensation of his balls being touched as well.

Opening my mouth I took in his dick once more, tasting his saltiness once more. I loved the taste of Cullen, and grew excited at the prospect of him releasing into me like a delicious morsel. Cullen’s fingers gripped my hair as he began to thrust again, his heavy breathing growing deeper as he drove his member into my warm mouth. The warm skin of his hard cock sliding across my tongue, his fleshy pikestaff snaking further into my throat. I loved the scent of his masculinity whenever I engulfed his dick, and it transformed me into a ravenous creature wanting to feed on his manhood with an insatiable hunger.

‘Maker’s breath, you need to stop.’ groaned Cullen, easing out of my mouth. Cullen looked down at me with a lustful expression. ‘You're a wicked creature trying to make your master come like that.’

‘Sorry master.’ I grinned.

‘Yes I am sure you are.’ scoffed Cullen, pulling me up to him. Placing a deep kiss on my lips, he reached around to untie my hands. Cullen kicked off his pants and boots before turning to the war table. The Commander climbed on top, lying down with his head at the edge of Ferelden, and his arse, ironically, spread flat across Skyhold.

‘Come, I want you on me.’ ordered Cullen, beckoning me to him.

Climbing up on the table, I straddled his hips eagerly, excited at the prospect of being impaled, but I felt Cullen’s strong arms pulling me further up.

‘I want you on my face.’ informed Cullen wickedly ‘Let me taste your sweetness.’

Already growing weak at the knees at the concept, I placed them on either side of the ex-templar's head as his hands encouraged my hips down, my labia planted firm against his mouth. Arching my back, I surrendered with pleasure as Cullen run his tongue across my clit in one deep lap. His strong hands pulled me down further as he began to explore my cunt with his warm tongue, probing and lapping away, sucking on my bundle of nerves until I was crying out to stop. Breathlessly begging him. Warning him I would come. However there was only one way I knew I could make him stop. There was one word for that, and I had no intention of using it. Helplessly all I could do was remain on my knees in ecstatic torture, straddling the Commander as he ran his hands up to fondle my breasts, refusing to relent his assault.

Pushing me up, Cullen eased me off him and placed me to lie on the table where he had been positioned as he moved down between my legs once more.

‘Hold your knees to your chest.’ he ordered as he retreated to my intimate parts.

The position gave the ex-templar a better angle to assault my throbbing cunt and he began once more lapping away again, flicking his tongue against my clit and running along my folds over and over again, his warm wet tongue diving into me. Lifting his head, he nodded in encouragement. 'I want you to come hard for master. Right now.'. Lowering his tongue, he began to lap rhythmically once more. His soft tongue was merciless and slurped away until I seized up, uncontrollably coming hard.

‘Oh Maker!’ I screamed, my voice echoing in the room as the ripples of pleasure eventually subsided.

Cullen laughed as he pulled his head back from my wet lips. ‘I assure you the Maker had nothing to do with that.’

Climbing up to meet me, Cullen placed his large muscular thighs in between mine, bending over me as he breathed heavily in his chest. Cullen looked down into my eyes, those amber pools threatening to drown me.

‘I'm going to fuck you hard now.’ he warned me seriously ‘Are you ready for that?’

‘Of course master.’ I replied in delight. More than anything, I wanted to feel the beast unleash himself onto me.

Planting his hands firmly on the table on either side of my head, Cullen drew his hips up and his heavy cock to my cunt. His member was hard as it penetrated effortlessly, pushing up. Cullen eased in slowly, thrussting deeply without stopping until he was fully inside me.

Smiling he pulled both my hands above my head, encouraging them to grasp the edge of the table. ‘Secure yourself by holding on.’ ordered Cullen ‘I don't want you to fall off.’

Withdrawing his member until the head of his cock was at my entrance, Cullen rammed it forcefully back in. I cried out from the force, loving the way the ex-templar was so aggressive. Drawing out again slowly, Cullen once again forcefully thrust in, a grunt from his lips as he continued to tease me with slowly withdrawals and savage thrusts. His body pressed against mine, his frame shuddered in pleasure as he began to thrust faster now into me, a moan on his lips as he filled me again and again.

Holding desperately onto the table, Cullen began to fuck me, thrusting and thrashing wildly as he mounted in pleasure. Digging my fingers desperately onto the table above me, the force of the ex-templar ploughing into me was too strong to hold on. I was about to come when Cullen stopped mid thrust.

‘Tut tut, I didn't say you could come yet.’ he warned.

Pushing my hips up frantically, I found myself gasping for air in desperate need of release.

‘Please master, let me come.’ I pleaded, feeling that peak just a moment away.

‘Shhh,’ Cullen murmured, beginning to stroke inside me once more at a slow pace ‘you can hold on a little longer. You cannot come.’

Dragging my hands across my face I desperately tried to stop myself from coming as Cullen continued to thrust.

Cullen smiled as he pushed hard into me, causing me to cry out again. He was enjoying watching me prevent that orgasm, refusing to release until his orders told me otherwise.

‘I forbid you to come yet.’ ordered Cullen sternly as he continued to thrust into me ‘You need to bottle it up, suppress your release. Control yourself because I control you.’

My head was spinning and my breathing ragged as he continued to thrust slowly, drawing me closer and closer.

‘What do you want?’ asked Cullen as he began to plunge his cock faster.

‘I want you to let me come master.’ I replied desperately in ragged breaths.

Cullen stopped thrusting as he remained deep in me. ‘No.’ he replied with a frown ‘What do you want?’

‘I want you master.’ I begged. 

Cullen withdrew his cock entirely from me, his hard head teasing my labia.

‘I’ll ask you again,’ Cullen remarked sternly ‘what do you want?’

‘I want you to fill my belly with your seed, master.’ I moaned.

Cullen grinned as he thrust himself in hard.

‘Good girl.’ he growled.

Hooking my thighs back with his arms, he planted his hands on the table and unleashed himself. Groaning loudly, Cullen thrust angrily into my depths, teeth gritted and jaw clenched as he pounded my cunt with his throbbing hard member. Desperately I held onto the beast of the man as he wildly fucked in forceful repetition, claiming me in its entirety as I surrendered myself to him. I opened myself to him, fully submitting to his assault and allowing him deep into my belly as he grunted his release into me. His sandy hair swept down across my face as his body began to shake, losing himself in the moment as he rammed harder.

'Come my love.' ordered Cullen.

Rising higher and higher, I cried out as I felt the tip of his cock hit my insides and moments later Cullen cried out as he ejaculated again and again, deep inside me as he held his member firm to the hilt.

Slumping over me, the ex-templar rested his head against mine, bathing in the wonderful afterglow of his powerful orgasm. Cullen kissed me tenderly on the lips and neck while he remained inside, and I drew my arms around his chest pulling me close to me. This was the moment I craved for, wrapped in Cullen’s arms with him deep inside me.

‘That was wonderful.’ confessed Cullen 'Maker how I missed that.'

Retrieving our various articles of clothing from the floor, I couldn't help but laugh. 'I'm never going to look at the war room the same ever again.'

'Yes best not mention it to the war council lest we have a mutiny on our hands.' scoffed Cullen. He narrowed his eyes at me, noticing my wide smile. 'You look like you're up to something?'

'It's nothing.' I dismissed, unable to stop smiling. 'It's just...I've never had anything like this before. This connection you and I have. Can I call it a connection? Well whatever it is I like it.'

‘As do I.’ he replied, throwing me a wink. A smile now on his face, Cullen remained quietly pensive as he tightened his greaves once more pulling the leather tight. ‘Connection is a good word to describe it. Frankly I feel connected to you in a way that I've never experienced before. It makes the experience almost…overwhelming?’

I raised a dubious brow and Cullen chuckled.

‘In a good way, trust me.’ he added.

‘Does it scare you?’ I frowned ‘That effect that one person can have over another?’

'Yes.’ Cullen replied plainly ‘It means I'm not fully in control of myself and anything that does that obviously has some power in it.’

'You wouldn't surrender a bit of that power, even to me?' 

Cullen frowned, apparently more serious about this conversation than I had assumed. 'You're a mage Ophelia.' he pointed out bluntly 'I can accept it but I can never forget it.'. Waving his hand, he dismissed the comment. 'Sorry, I didn't mean how that sounded. It's not the mage element as much as it is the human element. You have to understand that with me self control is very important. And when you start connecting with someone else, that control is relinquished. Somewhat. Perhaps that's why I always kept my emotions separate from relationships with people?'. Running a playful hand through my hair, he kissed my cheek. 'You needn't scowl at me like that, I'm glad with you it's not that way.'

'Says the templar.' I muttered under my breath. Catching his amused eye, I couldn't stay mad at him. 'You can trust me, you know that? You being a templar doesn't define you as a whole, and neither does I being a mage.'

Retrieving his papers off the floor, Cullen shrugged. 'Never the whole, but perhaps the largest portion?'. Grabbing my hand in his, he pulled me along with a grin. 'Stop trying to analyse things that are best left suppressed. Leave them to fester away into an unnatural state of monstrosity that we'll all have to suffer through in days to come.' 

'You're right. Coffee then?' I suggested 'Up on the battlements for everyone to see?'

Pushing the doors of the room open, Cullen pulled me along enthusiastically. 'Trevelyan, you stole the words right out of my mouth!' 


	31. Rising From the Ashes

_My Dearest Friend,_

_In truth I wanted to address this letter more personally yet I struggle to know what we are any more? Lovers? Friends? Acquaintances? Or dare I even propose, enemies? You will always remain my cherished Ophelia, although I know you will laugh at my sentiments and I am deserving of such. What right do I have to proclaim affection after the way I coldly dismissed you when I departed on my travels? You much think me beastly in nature. Perhaps you would be correct, but not in regards to my adoration of you. You are always in my heart Ophelia. You are that soft tear that runs down my cheek every night as I drift off to sleep in this dry and barren place. I know that I lost your love the day I left you at Skyhold without so much as a word of explanation. I left you with a cold and false memory of myself, and for that I regret my actions even more so._

_I have no right to ask anything of you, yet I find myself doing just that. All I ask, Ophelia, is that you read this letter but once. You deserve an explanation and I shall give it to you now. No more lies, just the truth in its entirety._

_The truth is that I have deceived you and I am sorry. I have concealed my past from you. A past that you deserved to have been aware of, especially when we begun our courtship. As you are well aware I am an ex-chevalier with a dark secret or two, but there was more I failed to tell you. To my everlasting shame I am a man always running from his past, always regretful of his actions. In truth I foolishly believed that if I moved away from Orlais I would be able to escape from those memories and transform into another person. My life at Skyhold was not only a new opportunity to serve a purpose, but an opportunity for me to become someone else. A better man. Yet I failed to see the dance was the same one I had always been waltzing to. The mask I wore in the Orlesian courts was merely replaced with another mask when I joined Skyhold._

_Leliana learnt of my secrets and approached me the day before I was to depart to the Western Approach. She gave me an ultimatum; either inform you of my entire shameful past or encourage you back to Cullen and she would keep my secret safe. Do not blame her for her actions, I find her loyalty to Cullen to be her motivation for many decisions she makes. In the end I am to blame for keeping my secrets from you. At that moment I could not bare to confess what had happened in my past and risk changing your opinion of me. So I encouraged you to return to Cullen. My guilt made me believe at the time that it was the right thing to do. Yet some part of me knew even before I had said goodbye to you that morning that it was the wrong decision. For months now I have resided here in the Griffon Wing Keep with only that regretful memory to keep me company. I can hear you asking; but why then did I leave the way I did? Why break your heart when I knew it was the wrong choice? I can only say that my insecurities overruled my heart. Leliana planted the seeds of doubt and made me believe history was repeating itself. Perhaps some part of me deep down agreed on that point? I believed I was going to harm the one I loved, as I had done many, many years ago._

_Here is an entire account of what happened. _

_Fifteen years ago I had a wife, Lady Rochelle de Chevin. It was an arranged marriage agreed between my father Comte Brevin de Chalons and Rochelle's father, Comte Primpton Rousseaux. I am not certain if you are familiar with the Orlesian practices of matrimony? In the noble sphere it is rarely a unity built on the foundations of love, but rather constructed on financial strength and purity of stock. Rochelle's family held a good lineage and substantial wealth, as did mine. In the end that was all that mattered. Before either Rochelle or I even knew each other, the marriage had been agreed upon. I was not one and twenty at the time, and in my wild and youthful recklessness as a young Chevalier with the world at his feet it was of little consequence. I cared little for the marriage but understood my duty was to obey my father's wishes._

_Little did I know that fate is cruel and mocks us for its own delight. Unbeknownst to either of our father's, I had been secretly courting Comte Primpton's eldest daughter, Helena. I had met her a few months prior at an autumn masquerade held in Val Foret and we instantly found an attraction to each other. To my dismay she informed me she was promised to another, although she confessed to me she had little regard for the man yet much for me. So we continued to see each other in secret. It was a cruel set of circumstances when I was informed of my marriage to her sister. My father was furious when I confessed my love for Helena. I told him instantly when I was fatefully notified I was to marry Rochelle Rousseaux. Father told me to put such shameful nonsense out of my head and to prepare a new life with Rochelle. I had no choice but to obey._

_In the coming spring I married Rochelle and Helena married Lord Clotaire Dreaux. Despite our new unions, Helena and I could not forget each other as we often were in each other's company, unfortunately inevitable by the unity of my wife to her sister. Helena disliked Clotaire, and I found Rochelle to be quite different from her sister. Before we knew it, Helena and I had recommenced our affair and concealed it from our respective spouses. My actions were dishonourable, as were hers. I will make no excuses for it, even if love could be used to justify such a course of action. There was no honour in our deceit, yet we were both fearful of our family’s reputations if we dared reveal our desires and forfeit our respective marriages. At the end of the day Helena and I could not bare to be separated from one another, no matter the consequences._

_Years went by and we kept our affair hidden. Then one terrible day my wife discovered some love letters from Helena that I had kept hidden in our manor. So stupid an act, I had concealed the lavender soaked pages in the pocket of one of my waistcoats. I can only imagine what must have gone through poor Rochelle’s mind when she discovered them. Indeed not a week goes by where I do not play out the nightmare in my sleep._

_Grieved and shocked at the betrayal, my dear wife ended her life by throwing herself off the balcony off our manor onto the stone courtyard below. My heart was broken. My mind was a storm of sadness and guilt at what I had done to such an innocent woman. Rochelle had loved me with all her heart and I had broken it. Naturally Helena was beside herself with guilt when the reason for her sister's death was revealed by my own self. I sorely regret telling her now of Rochelle’s discovery of Helena’s letters, but at the time she had suspected something as such had occurred and I felt obligated to inform her as to what had happened. To all those around us, family and friends, it appeared nothing more than an unfortunate sadness Rochelle had succumbed to, as some do from time to time. However Helena and I knew the real reason for Rochelle’s death._

_Helena soon grew ill, unable to live with the guilt that now she carried. I would find her standing in the fountain in my courtyard at times, her eyes lifeless as she stared at the blood stained stones where her sister fell. Those horrid stones, I scrubbed at them night and day but the blood seeped into them and refused to leave. A stain on our conscious that could never be removed. Sometimes Helena would walk across the moors during the night from her own manor to mine, for miles and miles, possessed in her sleep to return to the place of her sister’s death. I would find her always at the same place, at the stones, growing more unresponsive to my pleas that she was not to blame. Her body cold and lifeless, I soon feared I was speaking to a corpse in those dark hours of night. My poor Helena could not withstand the guilt in knowing she had caused her sister's death and a few months later she too took her life. She drank poison and never woke up. In a set of already tragic circumstances Helena's husband, Lord Dreaux, was devastated by the death of his wife. Unable to live without his beloved he ended his life on the day of her burial, falling on his blade in a final act of grief._

_I was responsible for their lives. There is no excuse for what I did and I am sickened with guilt and remorse to this very day. That is my true character Ophelia. That is shamefully who I am._

_Upon seeing the chaos I had caused I swore never to love again. I never sought it, and certainly when I arrived at Skyhold I never imagined you would be the one who would make me break that vow. Oh but Ophelia you made me feel something so deep and intense, my passion for you overwhelmed me and I did not want you to know my former character. I wanted you to love me for who I was in the present. I now know this was wrong of me. You deserved to know every part of me. Leliana promised to keep my secret safe if I left for the Western Approach and broke ties with you. The unfortunate deed was performed and perhaps my secret could have remained untold forever. However I refuse to conceal any more from you. I need you to know the truth even if it means you despise me for an eternity._

_Commander Rylen has recovered remarkably well and is up and about now, although his injury has caused him to limp on his right leg. An unfortunate scar to remain from the battle with the Venatori, yet he remains in good spirits and is eager to return to his post. I am certain to return to Skyhold soon now that our Commander is ready to uptake his position once more._

_Ophelia please let it be known I am under no illusions that you and Cullen remained apart while I was away. Even so many miles away from Skyhold as we are, the gossip is exceptionally accurate. Perhaps because there is little entertainment out here unless you are fond of making sand castles or baking in the sun? Just know this. I give you my word that when I return to Skyhold I will not interfere with your relationship with Cullen. I will continue to aid the Inquisition to my best abilities and that is all I will focus on. I hope this letter can at least put you and Cullen's mind at ease on this note. I will not come between you both as long as you remain together._

_Fondest salutations,_

_Michel de Chevin_

With a heavy sigh, I folded the well-read letter and placed it carefully in-between a book on my desk. No matter how many times I had read it, it made me angry. Not because of Michel's secrets, but because I believed for months he had played my heart like a cheap fiddle and made a mockery of our love. Every kind word from his lips, every tender gesture shown to me. I believed it all to be a lie. This deception made my conscious feel a little lighter and my return to Cullen easier. Knowing Michel was a callous deceiver justified my betrayal to Cullen. I shared another man's bed, but I told myself I had been lured by a snake. A man who took wicked pleasure in corrupting others. Cullen told me time and time again that Michel was not to be trusted. So when Michel left so abruptly from Skyhold there was the proof that Cullen had been right.

Yet now?

Now things turned out to be very much different. In all honestly the truth was somewhat harder to digest. That beautiful soul of Michel's that I had fallen in love with had been real. That was the terrible secret that I had been carrying around with me ever since I had received that letter. Yes Michel had his secrets, but in truth who of us didn't?

****

'This is spectacular!' remarked Cullen, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked over to the grinning mage. 'No that is sorely lacking in description. It is phenomenal. Outstanding. Wondrous!'

'Legendary?' suggested Leliana with a smirk, clearly entertained by her friend's exuberance 'Like the time we were caught drinking the Greenfell Chantry's sacred wine, splayed out on the pews in the hall of worship at midnight? We convinced Sister Betinos that we were actually in the middle of worshipping the Maker and should not be disturbed.'

Cullen chuckled in amusement, sweeping his sandy hair from his brow as he flashed a wicked wink to his partner in crime. 'I recall the dear Sister bowed her head reverently and apologised for the interruption, reciting The Chant of Light as she left the hall and side stepped over three empty wine bottles on the way out!'

Leliana let out a delighted cackle, clapping her hands in delight. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

'Remind me again how it is you both are on this counsel?' asked the Seeker.

Cullen sharpened his stance and wiped the grin off his face, although a small smirk still remained on his scarred lip. 'You are completely right Cassandra, forgive us. We should behave more appropriately. Oh and before I forget, would you be so kind as to lend me a copy of Swords and Shields when you are finished with it? I am dying to know if Guard Captain Aveline ends up with Donnic.'

Leliana burst into laughter as Cassandra grew bright red in the face, pursing her lips as she turned her gaze from the taunting duo back to the silent mage in the room. 

'Do you realise what difference this will make for our troops?' continued Cassandra with a smile, darting her eyes to a grinning Cullen and Leliana before turning back once more to the mage. 'For the Inquisition? Athalwolf you have created something revolutionary here.'

'I am always happy to help.' replied Jowan with a nod and a smile of his own 'After the tragic death of my sister Mabel...well...I realised what we have to lose at the hands of our enemy. This spell can reverse the effects of red lyrium and release a templar from their bonds.'

'Hang on. Are you saying we can save the templar in addition to releasing them from the effects of the red lyrium?' remarked Leliana in surprise.

‘By the Maker.’ murmured the Commander, placing his hands on the desk as he processed what was being said. Looking up seriously, his amber eyes were filled with emotion. ‘Are you really saying we have a chance to save them? Every single one?’

Jowan snapped his fingers in excitement ‘Indeed we can!’. He quickly gestured to a fellow mage at the door 'Iona bring them in.'

The mage nodded and retreated for a moment, only to return with an older man and younger woman. The pair stepped precariously into the room, looking uneasily at the party before them.

'No…it cannot be?' remarked Cullen in complete shock, his amber eyes widening as he fixated on the man 'Asling? Jonathon Asling?'

'Knight-Captain Cullen, it is good to see you once more.' nodded the man, looking more than a little downtrodden as his eyes met the floor quickly.

'You were a Red Templar.’ insisted Cullen somewhat confused, looking over to the Spymaster ‘Leliana’s agents spotted you many months back at the Stone Steps of Damaskas with Samson’s army. I could have sworn I read your name on the list of Red Templars that we had compiled.’

'Aye, I was and would have been with the army right now if it wasn't for Master Athalwolf.’ replied Asling, throwing a respectful nod to the mage ‘He performed a spell on Tilli and I when we patrolling the forest a few days ago. Moments later it was like a cloud had been lifted from our minds. The fire in our flesh cooled down, and transformed back to normal skin. We saw the horror that had bound us…but we were no longer possessed by it.

‘Mind you, it didn't erase the evil we had done up until then,’ added Tilli sadly ‘those disgusting memories still haunt us. Yet we were free of the hold the red lyrium had over us.’

‘Oh Knight-Captain Cullen…I am so sorry for joining with Samson.’ cried out Asling, breaking down on his companion's shoulder ‘He promised to restore the Templar Order to its former glory. If any of us knew what we were really doing we never would have gone down that path. You must not hate the templars, we were deceived. We would never have taken the red lyrium and performed the unforgivable deeds that we did. Once it had taken hold over us we were helpless and forced to obey.’

'What of the red lyrium?’ asked Cullen seriously ‘Is it in your body, even a small part? Do you crave it still?'

'Not at all,' replied Tilli 'it is as if we have never tasted it. Our bodies are cleansed and purified.'

'Praise the Maker.' nodded Asling, wiping away a small tear ‘We needed to take small doses of it throughout the day just to function and yet it has been two days since we were turned and we have not even had the smallest desire for that loathsome poison.’

Cullen shook his head, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. He cast a look up to an equally surprised Leliana and Cassandra. 'Do you know what this could mean?' asked the Commander seriously.

A curl of Leliana's lip, she nodded. 'It could mean the end of the Red Templar Army. A sweet boon, no?'

'Boon indeed!' chortled Cullen 'It is the entire treasure chest, lock and key handed to us on a silver platter. Imagine the information we could gain from the templars? We could know exactly where the Red Templars encampments are, and what Corypheus plans to do next.'

'Corypheus has many other supporters than just the Red Templars.' observed Cassandra cynically 'We must not take this out of context.'

'Cassandra, you must see what a difference this will make!' remarked Leliana 'Samson's Red Army is the driving force behind Corypheus at present. To be able to release them from his hold.....I cannot think of a better weapon. We can remove his army and gain many more templars who may wish to join forces with the Inquisition.'

‘The Templar Order forged in redemption.’ murmured Cullen ‘I could not think of a more determined and vengeful force. Of course we must monitor the templars scrupulously to ensure the red lyrium is completely out of their system. Even a small bit remaining could be all that Corypheus needs to control them once more.’

'Could we really trust these templars after everything they have done?' asked Leliana a little skeptically. Asling and Tilli shifted uncomfortably at the question as the spymaster looked over the pair with painfully sharp eyes. ‘I am sorry to say it so bluntly, but you and your Red Templar companions were fighting against us. We cannot merely take you on your word.’

‘I do not think there is anything we can say to convince you of that, my lady.’ replied Asling respectfully ‘Yet I hope our actions from now on will show you, in time, that our allegiance is to the Inquisition and the Templar Order. Not Corypheus or Samson.’

Cullen nodded. 'The templars have been shamed, and we are an Order forged in honour and duty. I suspect these men and women will desire the chance to redeem themselves, if only to make amends with the Maker and their own conscious.'

Cullen looked back at towards Jowan, a man that looked more than a little pleased with himself. 'Athalwolf you could possibly be the most talented mage in all of Thedas. How on earth did you achieve such a feat?'

Jowan chuckled as waved his hand to dismiss the praise that he was certainly not accustomed to. Turning his green eyes to each person in the room, he suddenly appeared serious once more. 'Of course my interest in spells has been an intrigue that started as a young mage.’ he observed ‘I've always had a special talent to adapt and create new enchantments, to bend them and mould them. However Commander, it is not the how more as to the why. I challenged myself to create this spell, as unachievable as it was. Yet I created it for a reason.’

‘A reason?’ queried Cassandra ‘What was that?’

The mage began to pace the room, strumming his fingers against each other as if deep in contemplation. ‘When I came here to Skyhold I was more than a little doubtful as to how much the Inquisition could achieve. In truth I did not come here to help at all. I followed Mabel and nothing more. However as I began to set up the mage tower, and as I began to know each individual mage......'. He turned his gaze away from the attentive party, his voice growing soft '...as I bore witness to the Inquisition breaking the chains that bound the mages of Thedas. In that moment I knew this was a mighty cause. My cause. With the help of all our mages we have been trying to create and perfect this spell for months and months. Everyone has worked night and day, endless hours sacrificed when we could have been enjoying idle pleasures instead. We mages all played a part, and our unity is what makes us the most powerful weapon against Corypheus. I hope you will all see one day that the mages are not a threat to templars. That at the end of the day, the mages were the ones that set the Templar’s free.'

'Well said Athalwolf, well said.' smiled Leliana in approval 'You and the mages of Skyhold are in the Inquisition’s eternal gratitude. Your recently developed health potions have saved many lives already, and now this spell offers to save so many more. Is it possible for us to see this magic at work? Today?'

'Of course, we can set out whenever you are ready.' replied Jowan ‘I'm certain you will be amazed at the result.’

'I want to see this immediately. You there, gather twenty of our best soldiers to ready themselves. We set out in an hour.' ordered Cullen to a guard posted in the hall.

'There have been Red Templar sightings in the Dales?' suggested Leliana 'Shall we go there?'

'That is where we found Asling and Tilli.' affirmed Jowan.

‘There are many more Red Templars patrolling the area.’ confirmed Tilli ‘We can mark on the map a few of the areas that we know of.’

'Well then it is settled, let us go and witness this spell in all its glory.' encouraged Cassandra as the party departed the war counsel room to prepare for their journey into the Dales.

****

Dragging my feet up the stairs to my bedroom at the end of another busy day, I was too distracted to notice the warm smell of bread and roast boar lingering in the room, or the fact that my door was unlocked when I entered. Preoccupied with matters that were not worth the free rent in my head, there had been a wave of irritating events rushing through the keep that day. Once again I had the unfortunate luck of drowning in more than a few dramas, and left wondering whether the role of Inquisitor was one merely to clean up matters that the rest of the keep were disinterested in attending to.

In the morning while in search of Cassandra I found myself caught in-between Cole and a mob of angry residents in the courtyard. With shouts of threats and insults, and even one or two waving pitchforks, the group were ready to take Cole to the gibbet. They blamed him for the infestation of pigeons at Skyhold, which at first seemed like a ludicrous accusation until I took a moment to ponder the odd occurrences in the keep. After a few questions I was informed the rogue took delight in feeding the birds each morning, leaving sunflower seeds and corn kernels scattered on the wooden floors of the upper level of his chambers. To the horror of the residents in the west quarter more and more feathered friends had decided to join the ranks of the Inquisition every day. Hundreds in fact. The birds had taken up residency in the wooden rafters and kept the men and women up all night with the incessant cooing and bird droppings. Cole claimed the birds were his friends, and were entitled to live inside an enclosed lodging out of the elements like everyone else. I barely managed to save Cole’s life as we narrowly escaped the rocks being hurled at him and his pigeons, who were curiously watching the spectacle from the roof of The Herald’s Rest. Refusing to abandon his pigeons, Cole demanded I remove the two dozen or so citizens from Skyhold. I made a desperate final offer of new lodgings, far away from his angry neighbours, which Cole finally accepted. His chambers are now located in the east end of the keep in an abandoned arrow tower, and to my surprise he is exceptionally happy. Apparently the tower has better access for his pigeons to feed.

At lunch when I was about to settle by the fire with a nice bowl of potato and leek soup, I was suddenly sprung upon by a furious pair of authors. Before I knew it I was forced to mediate an argument between Varric and another enthusiastic and competing mage writer at Skyhold. As the fates would have it, both were penning the adventures of the Inquisition. Apparently Varric was adamant he had full rights to writing the official book, and demanded that I order the mage author to cease and desist. Naturally I couldn’t do that, and Varric in his wonderful manner began mentioning his aid towards me in Kirkwall and something along the lines of you owe me one Inquisitorialness. In the end I ordered them both to cease writing the book until I could hold a proper war counsel to discuss the matter at great length, concealing my grin as I scurried away. Knowing Varric, he has already sent the final copy of his book to Orlais for publishing and the matter will settle itself when his competitor finds a free copy of Varric’s book on his doorstep in a fortnight or so.

Finally at dinner I was desperately hoping to see Cullen in the hall and recount the string of bizarre events of my day, but to my disappointment the Commander was nowhere to be found. A guard informed me the counsel had set off earlier to the Dales with Athalwolf and half a dozen soldiers. Half annoyed at being left out of counsel matters again I finished a bowl of lumpy ram stew and proceeded to my bedroom.

Reaching the top of the stairs to my chamber, I was startled by a familiar voice.

‘Well there’s a gloomy face if ever I saw one. Come quick, I’ve been waiting for you for near an hour now!’

Looking up, my forlorn expression transformed into a grin as I saw the Commander sitting at the table enjoying a meal of his own. Candles were lit, there was wine on the table and the man almost looked as radiant as the warm flames flickering around the room.

‘Tell me how you get fresh bread and venison while I was offered a sloppy bowl of stew from the kitchens?!’ I pondered in annoyance, sidling up to the table ‘I swear Madame Ruthie has it in for me.’. Stopping in my tracks, I raised a suspicious eyebrow ‘You seem rather…dapper? What have you done?’

Cullen laughed boisterously as he raised his glass in a toast ‘Andraste preserve me, I have never been called dapper in my life, but perhaps there is a truth in it today? Yes, I believe there is! Come sit down.’. Jumping up eagerly, the ex-templar reached for my hand and pulled me towards him, placing an affectionate kiss on my cheek before leading me to the chair opposite him at the table.

The man was intoxicating even when wearing a simple white cotton shirt. Unshaven and a mop of sandy hair growing longer by the day, his handsome features outshone even the fine trappings of his Commander’s armour. Naturally I liked him better this way, out of his armour and settled in our room for a night together. The soft glow of the candles revealed the gorgeous definition of his chiselled jaw, and revealed the honey tint of brilliant light in his large amber eyes.

‘When I was in Kirkwall I trained my fair share of templars.’ informed Cullen, piling some oat bread and meat onto a plate before handing it over to me. ‘Now Kirkwall, as you know, was never the best place to be recruited. I believe the templars across Thedas referred to the Kirkwall Order as The Faulty Cannon. You never knew when you were going to be blown up. How true did that turn out to be? Ah but the Templars I trained, so many had an unquenchable passion about their duty. There was unbreakable pride in their work, no matter how hard and dangerous it was.’. Cullen sighed, leaning back into his chair ‘When that fool of a mage Anders destroyed the Chantry and the mages rebelled, it left the Templar Order in disarray. We lost sight of our direction. Everything that once was had now changed. Everything we believed in, our life’s purpose…all destroyed. You take that away from a person and you risk destroying more than their faith. That, my love, is a dangerous thing. Samson played to this loss and vulnerability of the templars. Many of my recruits followed him down the wrong path in the hopes of restoring the Templar Order to it's former glory.’

‘That must have been hard for you to witness.’ I observed sadly, noticing the sombre tone in Cullen’s voice ‘I know being a mage I cannot say I felt anything but happiness when I managed to escape the Tower, but I suppose I could see how the templars would have been lost without a mage to shackle.’

‘That is not what I meant by losing our purpose, as you well know.’ replied Cullen sharply, a little annoyed at the comment ‘This is not a templar versus mage debate.’

Biting my lip, I knew it was cruel to say what I had even if I felt it was the truth. I knew Cullen being a templar and I a mage was always going to cause issues between us, despite our convictions to the contrary.

‘Sorry that came out wrong.’ I frowned ‘I meant to say I could see how the templar’s losing their duties would have thrown the entire order into disarray.’

Rubbing his neck, Cullen flashed his amber eyes into mine with an intensity that was breathtaking. ‘Ophelia, you have no idea. To bare witness as my men and women fell victim to red lyrium was devastating. Lyrium is bad enough, believe me. There are so many addicts in the Order, including Samson himself. The more you have, the more you want until you become shackled to the beast. But red lyrium? Well that is another evil altogether. One of my recruits, a young man named Elliot Helms, came to Kirkwall just before the city fell into chaos. He was a farm boy like myself, but had worked hard to become a templar to the utmost pride of himself and his family.’. The Commander frowned suddenly. ‘Elliot became a Red Templar. He was corrupted by that evil substance and the false promise of rebuilding the Order he had worked his entire life to become a part of.’. Cullen grew quiet for a moment, running his fingers along the rough wooden table in contemplation. ‘And today..’ he continued with a smile ‘…today I saw Elliot transform from a Red Templar back into a Templar of the Chantry. Pure and whole once more.’

More than a little confused, I shook my head ‘I’m not sure...what do you mean?’

‘Athalwolf has discovered a spell to transform Red Templars back into their former selves.’ informed Cullen ‘To fully remove the taint of the red lyrium from its host.’

‘Truly?!’ I replied in surprise. We were all aware that Athalwolf was skilled, but to create such a spell was almost beyond any talent I had heard of. ‘How in the world did he create a spell like that? Is that where you all were today?’

‘Indeed!’ replied Cullen merrily ‘With my every own eyes I bore witness to five Red Templars being released in the Dales. That unnerving crimson glow in these templar’s eyes faded back into their normal colour, and their armour smashed into a million pieces. They fell to their knees and begged for mercy, all completely devastated at the deeds they had been made to do under Samson’s orders.’

‘Just like that?’ I replied a little doubtfully ‘Are you certain they were sincere in their remorse?’

‘We all saw it, Ophelia.’ exclaimed Cullen with growing excitement ‘I know remorse when I see it. Ah but do you not see? My people are returning. The Order is returning!’

A chill ran across my skin at the mention of the templars returning. Returning to what? I dared not ask, but to what end was Cullen hoping to achieve by rebuilding the Templar Order? More to the point, where did the mages of Thedas come into this plan? Templar’s had only one duty, and that was to guard mages and their use of magic.

‘Your people?’ I remarked with an uncertain half-smile ‘I thought you had turned away from being a templar? I’ve never heard you speak of them so fondly until now?’

Cullen shrugged, taking a sip of wine. ‘In my heart I will always be a templar, despite distancing myself from that role. They will always be my people.’

‘Well I am happy for you,’ I smiled, suddenly distracted by other thoughts ‘truly I am. The templars shall return once more….’

Watching me with painfully observant eyes, Cullen’s lip curled ‘Something vexes you. I can see it.’

‘It’s-‘

‘-nothing?’ mocked Cullen as he poured some more wine ‘The most overused and unconvincing line to ever part your lips.’

With a frown, I looked up to Cullen. ‘I've received word from the Western Approach. He's returning soon.’

A flicker of intrigue crossed the ex-templar’s face before a look of all too well understanding transformed. The Commander groaned before taking a long and hard swig of the crimson liquid in his cup. ‘Maker’s Breath, please tell me you are talking about Blackwall or Solas?’

‘You know perfectly well who,’ I replied ‘I wasn’t sure whether you knew already?’

The Commander rolled his eyes. ‘No, but I take it the Maister of Blades took it upon himself to inform you personally of his antticipated return? Of course he did.’. Crossing his arms, Cullen leaned into his chair with a grin on his face. ‘Come now! What sweet promises did he scribe? I admit I would dearly love to see Michel de Chevin’s penmanship, I desire a good laugh! Was there a pressed flower included? A kiss at the bottom of the page? Were the sheets scented with perfume perhaps?’. Noticing my dark expression upon this last suggestion, Cullen straightened a little sharper in his chair ‘Ophelia? Whatever is the matter?’

Standing up abruptly, I retrieved the letter from the book on my desk. ‘Here, just read it. Honestly, I don’t know what to make of it. It's so strange.’

Silently I waited as Cullen perused the letter, his face looking surprised and then almost disgusted as he finished reading the correspondence.

‘So he has a history of stealing other men’s women?’ chortled the Commander ‘There’s a huge surprise. Oh but rest assure I am at ease that Michel will cause no more trouble between us.’. Cullen laughed, shaking his head. ‘I'm particularly fond of the last line; I will not come between you both as long as you remain together. Once again the snake intends to hide in the bushes until the right moment to strike. The moment we part ways in the morning from our chamber he'll be ready to steal you away again.’

‘Do snakes strike from bushes?’ I teased, causing my companion to chuckle.

‘This one does! I find it fascinating how the man can lie in a letter swearing the truth. Now there is a contradiction if ever I read one. And what of these dark secrets he mentions? What are they?’

Feeling terrible to betray Michel’s secrets, I knew lying to Cullen would make me feel the same. I decided to meet half way and betray the lesser of the two secrets Michel had told me.

‘You may not like the man, but you must promise not reveal this.’ I warned ‘Michel de Chevin was adopted from the alienage in Montfort by Comte Brevin de Chalons. He is not the distant cousin of the Chalons as he and his adoptive father proclaim. Indeed his name is not Chevin at all.’

‘Alienage?’ echoed Cullen in confusion ‘Are you saying Michel is an….elf?’

‘Half-elf, on his mother’s side.’ I corrected ‘He was adopted into the noble family of Chalons and his name changed to some distant line of Chevin that had all but died out. No one knows this Cullen, apart from Comte Brevin de Chalons and his family. You must never say a word.’

Waving his hand in the air, Cullen rolled his eyes ‘The man holds another lie. Are you seeing a pattern here?’

‘I'm not defending his deceit in other regards, but it’s hardly his fault that he was born half-elf and would never have been allowed to become a Chevalier had he not changed his identity. That is our society letting us down, not him.’

Cullen nodded. ‘Well for that opinion I tend to agree. He may be an adulterous cad of a half-elf, but Michel is an exceptional warrior. One must wonder how many elves and half-elves could have made such a mark in the realm had they not been down trod purely because of the blood held in their veins?’

‘Precisely. That aside, do you not think it is a tad bit sad? In regards to his wife and lover in Orlais?’ I asked curiously ‘To have carried around such an awful burden for all these years?’

‘Burden!’ scoffed Cullen ‘What do you suppose Michel expected to happen when his wife found out about his sordid little affair with her sister? One that he confessed went on for years after they had married! Or was he that stupid as to think their secret would remain undiscovered and they would live happily in deceit until the end of their days? Yes, it's sad. I knew Michel preyed on women, but to be responsible for their deaths as well? Then he has the audacity to conceal his character from you and try to steal you away from me! Leliana should have gone straight to you and told you who the real Michel de Chevin was. I'm a little annoyed at her for not telling me at the very least.’

‘She blackmailed him.’ I pointed out ‘That is not very…appropriate.’

Cullen chuckled, amused more than anything else. ‘I'd say it was very appropriate! She was looking out for me, and were the circumstances reversed I would have done the same for her. Besides since when has Leliana ever been appropriate? No I dare say she did the right thing in removing him in the only appropriate way she could. Our spymaster is capable of more inappropriate ways of making people disappear.’

‘Did you know about her part in all this?’ I asked a little irritably, suspecting Cullen would have defended Leliana even if she had made Michel disappear permanently.

Taking another sip of wine, Cullen shook his head. ‘Leliana gathers secrets, I'm not privy to them all. Mind you I would have liked to have known about this one, if only for your sake. And just when I thought my opinion of him could go no lower.’

Grabbing his hand in mine, I squeezed it reassuringly. ‘He won’t be a problem.’

‘Will he not?’ asked Cullen curiously, running his fingers across mine ‘That simpering Chevalier has a way with you.’

Cullen grinned as he nudged my chin playfully. My heart sunk a little however, knowing behind every jest there would always be an element of truth behind Cullen’s accusations. Since Michel had left and I had returned to Cullen, we had spoken a lot about what had happened between Michel and I. I could see the dissapointment I had caused Cullen, although he reassured me that he understood considering all things. Considering what I had bared witness to in the forest. Of course I knew Cullen held a darker side, a jealous side that was as deep and dark as an abyss. He was a man that did not share, and Michel had taken something from him.

‘You know the answer to that question.’ I replied defensively.

‘I know, I know.’ replied Cullen, squeezing my hand ‘Come now, let us not ruin this day with anymore talk of that Orlesian fool. I have something for you.’

Reaching into the pocket of his belt, Cullen withdrew a silver chain with a deep clear cut green stone set in a circular silver pendant. ‘I...’ Cullen stopped and flashed a mischievous smile to me ‘…I wanted you to have this. I bought it the last time I was Denerim.’

‘That was over a month ago? Why did you wait until now to give it to me?’

Cullen nodded at the question, looking affectionately at the jewel. ‘It seems rather foolish when I say it out loud. It reminded me of your eyes. I confess I found myself unwilling to part with it during all the travels I've had to do lately. Now I fear I must hand it over to its rightful owner.’

Presenting the necklace in his large palm, I claimed the jewellery with a delighted smile.

‘No one has ever given me jewellery before.’ I grinned, examining the present with delight. 'Thank you, its wonderful!'

‘What no one?’ remarked Cullen in surprise ‘Not a lover? A family member? A friend?’

Laughing at the question, I suddenly realised Cullen was being serious.‘No one.’ I replied a little disheartened ‘Although I do recall my mother was always coated head to toe with jewels. Father used to bring her back a piece after each business trip, naturally on her specific instructions. I used to sneak into her room when she went on one of her outings. I would touch all her rings and necklaces and bracelets for hours. There were hundreds of them. One day she discovered I had been in her room and rearranged the pieces. I was beaten for it and sent to bed without any supper. That was the last time I saw the jewels, they were locked away in a chest after that. Maybe that is why I never went out of my way to own a piece of jewellery after that.’

‘Makers breath!’ remarked Cullen in disgust ‘Well let us not associate this piece with her.’

‘Throwing him a smile, I nodded in appreciation. ‘I love it, thank you. What stone is this?’

‘An emerald.’ the ex-templar replied as he stood up to move behind me, drawing back my hair as he began to softly kiss my neck ‘Incomparable to the beauty of it's owner, but second best.’ Taking the necklace from my hand, he secured it around my neck. ‘I'm sad to part with it now I have to make journey to the Western Approach.’

‘You’re leaving again?’ I protested, turning around to him ‘No! Why?’

Looking troubled, Cullen settled back into his chair once more. ‘This new development with the Red Templars means we could once again form a new army of templars. However we need to keep them away from Corypheus lest he realise we intend to pick off his army one by one and turn them against him. Cassandra and Leliana have agreed we need help from the Grey Wardens in keeping our secret Templar army safe until the time is right.’

‘You’re going to Adament Fortress then?’ I replied in surprise ‘To talk to-‘

‘Alistair, yes.’ affirmed Cullen, raising an eyebrow at me in amusement.

‘Oh.’ I murmured, taking a hasty sip of wine 'And I suppose Sierra will be there?'

‘Maker’s breath!’ exasperated Cullen, guessing my uneasiness before I had said another word ‘Ophelia you need to get this notion out of your head that I have feelings for Sierra Amell! I have more sentiment towards a rusty iron spade.’

‘So she has returned from her travels and is there at the Fortress with Alistair?’ 

‘How in the blazes would I know that?!’ chuckled Cullen. Running his hands over his lips, he flashed a deviant smile, apparently privy to some information.

‘What?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Leliana is coming with me to Adament.’ informed Cullen with a grin.

‘No!’ I gasped ‘Does she-‘

‘Intend to see Sierra? Oh I suspect she intends to do more than that.’ smirked Cullen ‘I suspect Sierra will come to regret killing an assassin like Leliana. If Sierra is there I anticipate quite the reception.’

Feeling like this could be terrible for the Inquisition and the Grey Wardens, I had to ask. ‘Does Leliana intend to murder her? Surely she cannot be thinking of doing that? Whether she likes it or not, Sierra is the Hero of Ferelden and a Grey Warden. She is Alistair’s lover. Leliana could start a war.’

‘Leliana is not foolish.’ dismissed Cullen ‘Believe me, I don't know what she intends to do. I dare not ask to be honest. In fact it may not even be an issue, at present we assume Sierra is not with Alistair. Our main and only business is discussion with the Grey Wardens in regards to the templars.’

‘Poor Alistair, he does deserve better.’ I sighed, gazing into the flames of the fire pit beside us.

‘He's a remarkable Grey Warden, yes.’ agreed Cullen ‘Well respected amongst his peers, and from what I can see he has a heart of gold. I would have wished him a better wife than the one he has. Ah but what does it matter if he is happy? Alistair and Sierra have been together for quite some time now.’

‘He's a brilliant man who would have sacrificed his life fighting the spider demon in the Fade so we could all escape.’ I added ‘He deserves so much better.’

‘You cannot carry guilt for the decisions you were forced to make as a leader.’ reassured Cullen gently ‘I know you still feel responsible for Hawke’s death.’

‘It was either Alistair or Hawke and I made the choice in the end. I can never forgive myself. Even if I could, I can never take away the sadness in Varric’s eyes since that day. I know a part of him blames me for Hawke’s death, and why should he not? I made the decision for his friend to take the final blow.’

‘Do you not think I have made decisions that have resulted in the death of my soldiers? That Cassandra or Leliana have not made choices that determined the lives and deaths of others?’ replied the Commander sternly ‘When we are at war, people will die. You lead the Inquisition, and so death will always follow you. There is no escaping it. Varric knows that well enough, believe you me. You were faced with a choice, and Hawke was selfless enough to sacrifice himself for the sake of you and the others. He was a hero. Remember him in that light, not in his death.’

Throwing him a silent nod of understanding. ‘When do you leave?’ 

‘Tomorrow.’ replied Cullen tiredly ‘We need to start sending the transformed Templars there immediately. The Grey Wardens can keep them concealed in Adamant Fortress. Along with the protection of the Griffon Wing Keep no agents of Corypheus can come close to the area without being seen a mile away. It is the ideal place to gather our Templar army in secret. I wish I could stay, Andraste knows I’m due for a break, but I cannot delay this journey.’

Pulling me up from my seat, we embraced. The Commander’s arms wrapped around me tight as did mine, and I could sense our thoughts were the same. That notion we both hated but had to face. Of knowing every time one of us left Skyhold there was a chance we would never see each other again.

Gently Cullen placed his lips on mine, one beautiful kiss growing deeper, more passionate as he refused to pull away. His strong hands ran through my hair, bunching it up in his fist as he continued to melt kisses, soft sweet lips tainted with wine lapping pink and sensual against mine. Finally he pulled away as he gently cupped my face with his large hands.

‘I promise I will not stay long, no more than a few days.’ he reassured ‘Promise me you will stay safe until then. No reckless journeys into the wilds looking for nugs or other such nonsense. Get the soldiers to go out, that is what they are there for. To help you.’

I rolled my eyes at the grinning Cullen ‘Trust me, I am not doing any more favours for Dagna for a long time. I'll wait here for you and twiddle my thumbs. Just hurry back Commander!’

Drawing my arms around Cullen once more, I nestled my head in his neck and felt myself drifting away as the ex-templar held me tight. There was nowhere I felt safer than in the arms of the Commander, protecting me from the troubles of the world. One day we would be away from all the fighting and the uncertainty that faced us around each corner. Perhaps it was a dream and nothing more, but Maker how I wished it would happen soon. As my eyes wandered to the distance, I noticed a shield lay resting against the bookshelf and suddenly my heart sunk.

Cullen’s templar shield.

It was then, in that fateful moment, that the truth dawned on me. The fighting and uncertainty had not even begun……


	32. In Peace, Vigilance

  


_Moon rising, moon rising. Hark! Night is at hand. Yet how to differ nightfall from the darkness of this land? Evil crawls from deep below. Darkspawn, lo they are here! Arise Grey Wardens! Defend! Fight strong without fear._

_Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry out the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you._

_The Maker smiles and weeps for us. In our sacrifice few survive. Fight for victory. Vigilance in peace. Give our all when death doth arrive. Cry not, for we that serve will return to the Maker’s side. Grey Wardens are warriors, pure and true. Our hearts filled with pride._

_Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry out the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you…_

The clank of heavy Inquisition plate armour and the swoosh swoosh swoosh of dusty horse shoes shuffling through the silty red sand echoed through the vast plains of the Western Approach as the large entourage made their steady journey towards Adamant Fortress. In the distance the fortress drew closer and closer, standing on the very edge of the Abyssal Rift. It was said that the Abyssal Rift chasm’s depths went as far below as to reach the Deep Roads itself. Perhaps this was true for the Fortress itself had been built by the dwarves many centuries prior. A suitable location for a Grey Warden outpost if ever there was one.

To the outsider’s eye Adamant Fortress appeared little more than a small blue-grey stone fortification, suitable for an outpost but not much more. Yet concealed within the structure was a rich tapestry of architectural splendour built by its Dwarven creators, for the fortress in fact was built into the very side of the chasm of the Abyssal Rift. Deep within Adamant Fortress were expansive halls that ran far into the rock, and there were numerous and vast rooms capable of housing a city. Protected and concealed, it was an impressive structure worthy of a kingdom in size and magnificence.

In many years prior the Grey Wardens had resided at Adamant Fortress before situation made it unfortunately necessary for the Order to depart their beloved halls, their home all but abandoned. As the influence and standing of the Grey Wardens grew weaker amongst the people of Thedas, their cause came somewhat more desperate. When the evil taint of Corypheus touched the Wardens, causing every member to hear a false Calling, their hands were forced. Unable to dismiss such a powerful urge and knowing their order would all perish when they finally succumbed to the Deep Roads, the Wardens were desperate to finish the job they were assigned. Time was fleeting as they frantically sought a way to destroy the darkspawn and old gods in the Deep Roads once and for all.

Beware the solicitous hand offering an easy solution. Beware the smiling friend who is nothing but a stranger.

A Tevinter Magister and Venatori agent, Lord Livius Erimond, offered help to the Grey Wardens but at a terrible price they were unable to foresee. With the use of blood magic, Erimond convinced Warden-Commander Clarel and the Grey Wardens to raise a demon army to eradicate the Old Gods and clear the Deep Roads once and for all. It was a terrible act to commit but to the Wardens the means would justify the end. Unbeknownst to the Wardens, however, these blood rituals performed bound the Order to Corypheus himself. By sheer luck, agents of the Inquisition gained information of Warden-Commander Clarel’s dire plans and attacked Adamant Fortress as the demon army was about to be summoned. Erimond’s hold over Warden-Commander Clarel was broken just in time before the demon army was summoned, and in her final orders she directed the Wardens to help aid the Inquisition.

When the Grey Wardens realised what had occurred, and even worse what was about to occur, the entire order was shocked and humiliated. Indeed they were disgraced in the eyes of all those around them. Many people demanded the Grey Wardens be exiled, and yet the counsel of the Inquisition knew how important the Grey Wardens were. There would always be darkspawn to be fought and there was only one order who could save Thedas from the Blights. The Inquisition decided to allow the Grey Wardens to remain. With the aid of the Inquisition, the Grey Wardens once more established their home at Adamant Fortress and were now united with the Inquisition in its fight against Corypheus.

After nine long and arduous days of travel from the Frostback Mountains, the soldiers of the Inquisition finally approached the fortification. Leading the ranks was Commander Cullen and Leliana, a large banner of the Inquisition flying behind them. Before them a large gathering of Grey Wardens stood to greet their guests at the mighty stone gates of Adamant Fortress.

‘Maker’s breath, can we be spared the welcome do you think?’ muttered Cullen, gripping his reins tight as he rode beside Leliana at the front of the line ‘I cannot bare the theatrics of such pomp and ceremony.’

The spymaster sighed, casting her attention to the ever so familiar Grey Warden banner flying strong in the wind on the top of the Fortress. ‘It is a sign of goodwill and respect. Exactly what we need from them at present.’ Her green eyes narrowed on one man in particular that was standing in front of the impressive line of Grey Wardens; a man dressed in the Warden-Commander armour. ‘And there he is.’ she murmured, sweeping her ginger hair back in slight unease.

Cullen drew his attention to the figure ahead and nodded in recognition. ‘Warden-Commander Alistair Theirin. I keep forgetting you wern't there when we stormed this Fortress and released the Wardens from Erimond. When exactly was the last time that you and Alistair have seen each other?’

His companion’s deathly quiet response caused the ex-templar to raise a brow.

‘Truly?’ remarked Cullen in surprise, turning his head to the Spymaster ‘Not since-’

‘-the Temple of Sacred Ashes.’ affirmed Leliana darkly, her face shadowy in the memory of it ‘Yes.’

Rubbing his neck achingly, Cullen examined his rigid partner as she maintained a cold gaze fixated on the Warden-Commander in the distance. ‘Andraste help us, I knew there was a reason you were in rather solemn spirits on this trip. I confess I didn't think Alistair would have been part of the cause?’

‘Who else if not him and the rest of our party during that shameful expedition?’ scorned Leliana bitterly ‘To desecrate the ashes of Andraste…I could not think of a more sacrilegious act. How could Sierra do that? Even now I'm ashamed to have ever been travelling with her, let alone apart of that journey into the final resting place of Andraste. Her body...her ashes resting peacefully in that tomb until we came along. I failed her. I failed the Maker.’

The Commander clasped his friend’s shoulder in comfort. ‘I don't see it that way. If anything you were given a second chance at life because the Maker, or maybe even Andraste, wanted you to live. That is the stuff of legend, do you not see that? The Maker stands behind you.’

Leliana bowed her head in reverence ‘Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame. Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side.’

‘Not yet I hope.’ replied Cullen, a sad smile on his face as he witnessed the pain of his companion that had not diminished over the years. ‘Those who sin will be forced to atone one way or the other. The wrong Sierra has caused will catch up to her, mark my word.’

‘Alistair and Zevran protested as Sierra attacked me, but they did not fight to stop her.' frowned Leliana 'Alistair and Zevran merely watched on, perhaps helpless but then again perhaps not? Who is to say?’

‘Sierra was the one who made the decision to desecrate Andraste’s ashes and fight you in the end.’ pointed out Cullen ‘She called the shots. It wasn't Alistair.’

‘Yes, and she struck the first blow.’ added Leliana darkly ‘Cullen I pleaded to her not to taint the ashes. I begged her and then I was forced to defend myself. In the end what is one blade against blood magic?’

The ex-templar’s face grew dark. ‘Not enough. No one would have stood a chance. Only someone trained in magical defence. At the end of the day only a templar could have stood up to her.’

'Such as Alistair?' suggested Leliana dryly.

Cullen sighed. 'Who knows what was going on in his head at the time. We cannot judge the man, not until we hear his side of the story. All we know is that Sierra showed no mercy, not Alistair.’ 

‘I do not know what to think.’ frowned Leliana ‘Perhaps you are right? Alistair was sweet and naïve. He had a compassion that Sierra considered a weak trait. She told me that, can you believe it?’. The spymaster shook her head in disgust ‘She often would tell me his heart would be the death of him. Perhaps she would have made for a good assassin herself, no? Perhaps she should have been for her sake, for the day will come when she'll atone.’

The Commander pulled his reins to stop his horse, turning a stern face to his companion. ‘Leliana we need the Wardens to aid us. You have every right to hate Sierra for what she did to you. Maker knows I have little regard for the woman after what she did to you. I will stand behind you when you demand justice. However now is not the time to reveal your hand. The templars need to hide in the underground halls of Adamant Fortress, away from the eyes of Corypheus. This is the only place I can entrust them to be safe. We need their help and we cannot do that if we cause trouble with the Warden-Commander and his wife.’

Narrowing her eyes, Leliana scoffed at the comment. ‘Do you really think I would jeopardise everything we have worked for?’ she asked shortly, her eyes flashing angrily towards Cullen ‘Corypheus murdered our most Holy. My revenge for Divine Justinia’s life far outweighs the revenge I seek for my own pitiful life. At least for now. Until then I will keep my enemies close for the greater good, but I shall never forget.’

Tilting his head, the Commander suddenly realised what his companion was saying. ‘You could have stayed in Skyhold but you insisted on coming because you knew Alistair would be in your favour? You didn't come here for revenge, you came here to collect a payoff.’

Leliana shrugged. ‘Guilt is a powerful bargaining chip. I strongly suspected the Wardens would have refused your request to house the former Red Templars after what they had been through recently with Corypheus. They nearly lost everything. They trust no one. Indeed you must know the Grey Wardens would hardly agree to play host to former sympathisers of their enemy? No, I knew this was the only way to achieve what you wanted Cullen.’

‘Do you believe even Alistair would have refused my request?’ frowned the Commander, throwing a displeased look at the party awaiting them at the gates.

‘Alistair is but one man in the Order, Warden-Commander or not.’ observed Leliana ‘To answer your question, yes. I believe he would have refused your request. However Alistair will not refuse my request. He is an honourable man who I know would have been shamed by what happened to me in that temple all those years ago. Do not forget Alistair was a man of the chantry himself in former days. I know a part of him would have never forgiven his involvement in tainting the ashes of our most beloved Andraste. After all these years I'm coming to him in forgiveness, and demanding his penitence. Alistair will not refuse me anymore than he would refuse a request from Andraste herself.’

Cullen threw an appreciative smile to the woman. ‘Then it seems I am in your debt once more? Leli thank you.’

The spymaster rolled her eyes, pushing her companions arm in jest. ‘If I don't keep an eye out for you then who will? We look out for each other, no?’

‘Maker help anyone who stands in the way!’ chuckled Cullen ‘Let me rephrase that. Anyone that stands in your way.’

‘Of course, I will have my revenge one day.’ added Leliana calmly, the sound of the leather of her gloves scrunching as she gripped her reins tight. ‘Like I said, I never forget and there is a score to settle here. I intend to one day finish what Sierra started. One day I will make her pay for what she did to Andraste…and what she did to me.’

Kicking in the sides of her horse, Leliana quickened her pace and rode on ahead, leaving Cullen to watch on curiously. He knew all too well that Leliana did not hold empty threats, not that it mattered to him in the slightest. All that mattered, the only thing that mattered, was that the templars were housed safely until their Order could be restored.

****

In celebration of the arrival of the Inquisition a banquet had been held that night in the Greenstone Hall, a magnificent stone feast hall of Adamant Fortress. So captivating was the hall that songs had been written about it by more than one bard; of its magical emerald glow that radiated brilliant when the bright lanterns were lit at dusk. Paragons were rumoured to have feasted there, kings wed, and darkspawn battled. Indeed there was an energy in the room that almost buzzed with a life of its own, whispering of incredible tales untold of former days long forgotten.

Roasted wyvern filled with chestnuts and spices filled the air as large silvers trays were laid out on the many long tables residing in the hall. There were strange and exotic coloured fruits, sweet breads with raisins, and strong dark ale in large pewter jugs being passed around. Wrought iron candelabras lined the walls of the hall, the flames from the many candles reflecting off the deep blue armour of the Grey Wardens and the silver plate of the Inquisition, making a spectacular display of illuminated warriors gathered together in celebration and unity.

As Cullen and Leliana entered the already packed feast hall, they were greeted by a tall and well-built man with reddish-brown hair dressed in an impressive suit of Warden-Commander armour. Waving at them afar at the head table, Alistair eagerly stood up and made his way over towards them.

‘Commander Cullen! Leliana! You are most welcome to Adamant Fortress!’ announced Alistair merrily ‘Finally we get to speak in person!’

‘Warden-Commander Theirin, thank you for such a warm reception.’ remarked Cullen politely ‘We did not expect such a ceremony this afternoon.’

‘Neither did I.’ replied Alistair with a laugh ‘There I was ready to greet you both personally at the gates and before I know it I am being led up to the stone battlements to make a speech. Apparently Warden-Commanders do that. So there I was picturing you all in your undergarments.’

Cullen and Leliana threw each other an amused look.

‘No I mean…well I was...but…okay, are you seeing why I shouldn’t be making speeches?’ remarked Alistair, a deep flush in his cheeks. ‘A dear friend of mine, Duncan, once taught me that trick. Before my initiation as a Warden I was terrified that I would faint. Funny, he forgot to tell me that part was inevitable. Anyway Duncan said if you're ever nervous imagine everyone in their undergarments. So I did! Then half way through my speech today I suddenly forgot you all were pant-less and I began imagining that I was in my undergarments…and then I had nothing on at all…and that’s when I felt my lunch returning.’

Leliana grinned, putting her hands to her mouth to try and stop herself. ‘So that is why you cut the speech so quick, no?’ she asked in amusement ‘Oh Alistair, I always remembered how much you hated the spotlight.’

The Warden-Commander turned his attention to the spymaster, his features softening as he looked upon his former companion. ‘Leliana.’ Alistair greeted gently. He held a smile on his face, but it could not erase the deep regret in his chestnut eyes ‘I'm so glad to see you after all these years.’

The Spymaster locked eyes with the Warden-Commander, her face serious and stern. Cullen grinned as Leliana suddenly moved forward to the surprised Warden-Commander and locked him in a warm embrace, her arms wrapped around his broad neck as he eagerly clasped around her waist in a tight hug. Forgiveness. Entwined together, the two whispered a private conversation for a few minutes, although Cullen distinctly overheard I am sorry my friend and a few other murmurings of regret here and there. When the pair finally unlocked from their embrace, both looked more than a little emotional.

‘Well!’ laughed Alistair, wiping a little moisture from his eyes ‘It’s a good day. Thank the Maker you both came when you did because I was about to hide the wine from Oghren lest we all miss out tonight.’

‘Bah youuush quit yer whining about yer wine, Alishtair!!!’ roared a red haired drunken dwarf from a nearby table. His flame bright beard was braided into two plaits, one which was dunked square in a pint of foamy ale.

‘You know I don’t think I've ever seen him sober?’ observed Alistair to his companions ‘As in ever. And it’s been eleven or so years. How can someone stay drunk continuously for eleven years?’

Leliana threw an amused look towards the dwarf ‘Do you remember right after we left Orzammar and set up camp for the first night? Oghren actually had forgotten we had been down in the Deep Roads for three weeks or so trying to find Branka. He swore it was more like three days. Oh, and he also thought Alistair was a eunuch with the travelling performers we were sharing a campsite with that night.’

‘Yer right there, ginger lass!’ yelled Oghren ‘Tellsh me again why the eunuch is still calling the shossts around ‘ere? Get ‘im back to the circus!’

‘Oh yes, ha haa.’ replied an unenthused Alistair. ‘Always love being apart of the joke. At least I won’t be remembered by my unholy odour during those adventures….and ever after.’

Leliana grinned as Oghren belched loudly in reply.

‘Oh yes, you would not believe the foul stench of the Deep Roads.’ continued Alistair ‘It had nothing to do with the dark spawn or mould and grime, and everything to do with our dwarven companion here. I rather think we did everyone a favour by removing the biggest problem down there. Oghren. The darkspawn shall write sonnets of what great heroes we were to release them from the foul and odious drunken monster!’

‘Argh yeessh I’lll drinkzz to that!’ roared Oghren, letting out another tremendous belch before passing out face down on the table.

‘Some things have not changed I see?’ remarked Leliana with a grin.

‘Oh Leliana you wouldn’t know the half of it.’ chuckled Alistair ‘I had to create a new set of rules for the Grey Wardens and about three quarters of them are purely to keep Oghren in check. No drinking before midday. No challenging duals to trees. No nug racing. No acting like a complete and utter arse. Oh the list goes on for pages and pages.’. Throwing Cullen and Leliana a warm smile, Alistair drew his hand towards the main table at the head of the feast hall. ‘Please come, sit down and feast with us. Grey Wardens and Inquisition united as one!’

Leading the way, Cullen and Leliana followed Alistair past the rows of merry soldiers and wardens drinking together, only to be greeted by another pair of Inquisition members already seated at the main table.

‘Rylen!’ exclaimed Cullen jovially ‘I say man! Why you look in better health than all of us combined. Venatori injury to the leg and abdomen? Hah, a likely excuse! Looks more like you’ve discovered a good way to get a well-rested holiday with pay!’

The brown haired man chuckled, standing up to fondly clasp shoulders with his friend. ‘Ah Cullen Cullen Cullen, it's so good to see you again my friend! And you can thank my speedy recovery to your excellent man here. Can’t say I’ve had to lift a finger in four months.’

Rylen turned to look down to a blonde haired man who had remained seated at the table. Michel locked eyes with the Commander and gave him a sharp nod.

‘Michel de Chevin, it is good to see you once more.’ greeted Cullen, a wicked light dancing in his amber eyes as he spotted the ex-chevalier ‘You've been dearly missed at Skyhold, although I must say the Western Approach must have taken a liking to you. You are looking in fine form.’

Rising from his chair, the ex-chevalier looked anything but as he stood solemn and serious before the ex-templar.

‘Commander Cullen, it's good to see you also.’ replied Michel respectfully, but with an ever so hint of disdain.

Drawing closer to Cullen, the men shook hands forcefully before both seated themselves opposite each other at the table. Michel’s eyes flickered over to the spymaster who was seated next to Cullen, the look of disapproval on the ex-chevalier’s face growing deeper as Leliana met his icy stare. Wickedly she revealed a small smirk of her own before turning away to talk to a soldier beside her.

‘Well this is pleasant!’ exclaimed Alistair ‘I must say it has been nice having the Inquisition as our new neighbours. There's something about being cooped up with a bunch of Grey Wardens that always ends in conversations about darkspawn. Oh, don’t get me wrong, dark spawn are great to talk about for, oh I don’t know, the first thirty seconds or so. But now? Well I can escape and go off for a visit to the Griffon Wing Keep with a basket of cookies and over there all the talk is of Red Templars. It’s very refreshing!’

‘Is he always this jovial?’ muttered Cullen under his breath to Leliana ‘Does he actually ever stop talking?’

Leliana grinned and kicked Cullen playfully under the table. ‘Be nice,’ she whispered ‘and yes he's always like this.’

‘Alistair, have you and the wardens given thought to the matter addressed in the letter I sent you in regards to the Templars?’ asked Leliana directly.

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. ‘And off she goes! Alistair you'll have to forgive our spymaster here, it appears she has a habit of mixing business with pleasure.’

Leliana kicked Cullen under the table again, grinning at the ex-templar as he chuckled into his cup.

‘Forgive me Alistair,’ apologised Leliana ‘I was too eager to wait another moment to hear your thoughts.’

Alistair waved his hand in dismissal ‘Not at all, in fact I’d like to address that before the merry making begins.’. Looking around to Rylen, Michel, Cullen and Leliana who were listening eagerly, Alistair drew a deep breath before reaching over to grab a piece of meat. ‘Here’s the thing. Imagine this chicken leg here is the Grey Wardens,’ explained Alistair before grabbing in the other hand a knife ‘and this knife here is the converted Red Templars.’. Alistair placed the chicken leg on his plate and with a well-placed lunge, stabbed the leg with the knife so it was embedded deep and standing up straight ‘Well this is what the Grey Wardens kind of anticipate may happen to them one day if we house all those Red Templars. You know how the story goes. One moment you’re sleeping peacefully, the next a knife lands in your gullet in the middle of the night by a red eyed creepy possessed Templar. It never turns out well.’

‘I assure you the red lyrium taint is fully removed by our Inquisition magic.’ confirmed Cullen ‘The red lyrium was the substance that made them do terrible things beyond their control. Things I believe your Grey Warden Order can empathise with, seeing how you all were as easily corrupted.’

‘Yes, well.’ frowned Alistair ‘I cannot say I saw it quite the same way. By what I’ve heard the Templars chose willingly to take to the red lyrium.’

‘Did not your Grey Wardens choose to perform blood magic?’ quipped Cullen.

‘What Cullen is saying,’ added Leliana quickly, trying to diffuse an impending argument ‘is that the Red Templars were victims of Corypheus, as were the Grey Wardens. You both were possessed at one point, only to be released and given a second chance. You and they are very alike, as unpalatable as that may be.’

‘Well to be honest I have my counsel of wardens here who are not so convinced.’ informed Alistair wearily ‘Actually the vote was five votes for and five against, with one left undecided when we gathered to decide whether to take on your templars.’

Sitting up straighter, Cullen focused on the Grey Warden before him ‘So a decision has already been made?’

Alistair nodded ‘Yes, it has been made.’

‘But you said there was an undecided vote?’ frowned Leliana.

‘I was the undecided vote.’ admitted Alistair ‘Look I know how much we owe the Inquisition, you saved our Order in more than one way. I know I have a duty to the Inquisition for that, but first and foremost I have a duty to my people. The Grey Wardens must never fall, never be put at risk in addition to the risk we already are bound to by fate. I must be honest, I wasn’t going to take on the Templars for I saw the risk outweighed the benefit. My decision had been made.’

‘I see.’ muttered Cullen, looking displeased.

Alistair raised his hand ‘However…you changed my mind Cullen.’

The Commander raised a brow, looking at the Warden-Commander curiously. ‘Indeed? We've not even spoken of the matter until now? How did I manage to convince you?’

‘Not everyone here knows how Cullen, Leliana and I first came to meet.’ informed Alistair seriously, looking around the table to his men and women listening on. ‘It was at the siege of the Ferelden mage tower just before the last blight. Many of the mages had resorted to blood magic, and the tower was overrun by demons. All of the templars trapped inside the sealed part of the tower during that siege were murdered, may the Maker watch over their souls.’

The members at the table all lowered their eyes, as if offering their respect. Indeed it was a solemn moment even for those who never experienced that terrible day.

‘All murdered except for one.’ continued Alistair, looking back towards Cullen. ‘We came across this young templar entrapped in a magical caged sphere. A man who had to witness death and torture and yet…he remained strong in his faith and did not yield. That man was Commander Cullen. He showed me in that moment the true meaning of dedication to the cause of the greater good. While others may have crumbled, his faith made him stay strong. That is what it means to be a Templar. Selfless sacrifice for the protection of others, not unlike what the Grey Wardens stand for. That is what the Templar Order stood for. An Order I was once apart of and I knew I could not abandon that Order now for all the good they serve. I will not abandon the Templars now.’

Cullen nodded in appreciation, a small yet sad smile on his face ‘Thank you Alistair.’

‘No thank you Cullen, for showing me the true meaning of strength all those years ago.’ acknowledged Alistair ‘I realised this situation at present is not an _us and them situation_. We may be Grey Wardens, Templars and Inquisition soldiers all with separate causes. However we are also one and same. We are fighting Corypheus for the good of Thedas. How can any of us pursue our role without the aid of others? When the Blight came, we would have never stood a chance had it not been the aid from outsiders such as the soldiers at Redcliffe, the elves of the Brecilian Forest, the dwarves of Orzammar. The only way we defeated that Archdemon was by joining together.’

‘Baaah what would we ye knowsss about it, eunuch?!’ slurred Oghren, sidling up beside Rylen and half pushing the man off the bench to make room ‘I saw yer silly circus show with the dragon. I coulda dressed up a maaarbari in a dresssh and had a better time that night.’

‘You do realise we were fighting an actual Archdemon on the top of Fort Drakon?’ informed a bewildered Alistair ‘Were you drunk even then?!’

‘Hah Archdemon, a likely storiiee!’ spat the dwarf, drinking deeply from Michel’s goblet as the ex-chevalier threw a surprised look at the berserker. ‘This eunuch put on the worst show in Thedas. Everyone was asleep by the end.’

‘They weren’t sleeping, they were dead!’ exasperated Alistair ‘Remember all the darkspawn coming at us with sharp pointy swords, and bows, and axes!?’

Oghren would have replied but he was now chin deep drinking Rylan’s mug of ale while the rest of the party watched on, more than a little perplexed.

Cullen threw an appreciative look at a pleased looking Leliana, who threw him back a silent nod.

The Commander raised his glass ‘Then I would like to make a toast to Warden-Commander Alistair and the Grey Wardens. Your aid will never be forgotten by our Templar Order, or the Inquisition.’

‘Yes here’s to many years of a strong alliance.’ added Alistair ‘For although as Grey Wardens our main concern will always be the darkspawn and Blights, we also see that evil surrounds us in many forms. Corypheus put our order into jeopardy, and any way we can help destroy him is a worthy cause. Aiding the Templar Order to gain their salvation is also a worthy cause.’

The table raised their empty mugs and chalices before realising Oghren had relieved them all of their contents. Quickly Alistair clicked his fingers and a Grey Warden came to pour more ale and wine. Finally the party clashed full cups and mugs, toasting to their new endeavour.

‘I must say it will be strangely comforting being surrounded by templars once more. It reminds me of a time before all the trouble started.’ remarked Alistair fondly ‘Already I am thinking about my previous days in templar training and anticipating what antics your men and women are going to get up to when they are here?’

Cullen chuckled ‘I’d recommend writing another rule to keep the alcohol away and the clothing on at all times.’

‘Oh that is rule number three and five.’ confirmed Alistair, rolling his eyes ‘One of the first few rules I had to create in honour of Oghren.’

The men chuckled, looking down the table to the red haired dwarf who was now loudly snoring into a plate a mashed potato.

‘You must come to Skyhold when you have a chance,’ added Cullen ‘the Inquisitor and the council asked me to extend the invitation to your fellow wardens, if they have a desire to witness what we do at the keep?’

‘Well I suspect I'll take you up on that quite soon.’ affirmed Alistair ‘I've heard so much about Skyhold, and I imagine it being quite a change from being underground in Adamant. Sierra is away for a few more months at least on her travels, so it would be a good time now to venture your way before the old ball and chain returns.’

‘Cullen.’ remarked Michel with a warm smile ‘I recall Ophelia mentioning that you knew Alistair’s wife? How did the pair of you meet?’

The Commander threw the Orlesian a dark look as Alistair proceeded to answer the question, unaware of the tension between the men.

‘It’s a funny story that!’ remarked Alistair ‘Cullen here was actually a templar in the tower where Sierra was kep-, ahh…lived.’

‘Indeed?!’ replied Michel with raised eyebrows ‘What a small world we live in? Did you both get along Cullen? Come now, there must be stories you can tell of your time with the Hero of Ferelden before she became legendary? I would love to hear of them?’

‘Templar’s don’t mingle with mages, they watch over them.’ replied Leliana quickly ‘Oh and I dare say Cullen’s account of templar duties would bore the stinky socks off Oghren.’

‘No it’s true, isn’t it Cullen? We are utterly boring.’ sighed Alistair, adding playfully ‘Actually that is the requisite for becoming a templar.’

‘I'm certain it's an intentional part of the induction into the Order.’ mused Cullen.

Alistair nodded in agreement ‘I often find myself falling asleep recalling my training as a templar.’

Cullen chuckled ‘Not the most enlightening of times I agree! Ah but we forget we are in the presence of a terribly important and, dare I say, interesting chevalier. Their Order is the pride of Orlais, are they not? Come Michel, you must have some riveting untold tales to tell? Tell us, how many chevaliers were knighted in your family line of Chevin? You must have a rich bloodline of knights running through those veins of yours.’

Michel sat up a little rigidly, before smiling widely for the company that was listening on intently. ‘Oh indeed, the Chevin line and Chalons had many chevaliers in their line.’ replied Michel pleasantly ‘It is a duty we take with exceptional pride.’

‘Yes it is a pity then that you left the Order in the end.’ observed Cullen bluntly ‘A great loss for Orlais.’

Michel nodded, taking a deep drink of wine. ‘Yes to some degree,’ he agreed ‘and yet a great gain for the Inquisition. If anything, I think my services to the Inquisition thus far has proven a satisfied arrangement.’

Cullen clenched his fist under the table as Leliana quickly poured more ale into the Commander’s cup.

‘Oh that’s right, even us Grey Wardens like to call Michel here our Maister of Blades.’ observed Alistair pleasantly, unaware of any tension growing. ‘No one has been able to win a duel with him yet!’

‘I came close, didn’t I Michel?’ chuckled Rylen ‘Give me another month and you’d have be bested.’

The ex-chevalier laughed, pointing his finger at Rylen in amusement. ‘Well I shall make sure I return for the final tournament.’

‘Oh I would have loved to have gone to the Skyhold Grand Tourney.’ sighed Alistair ‘I heard all about that day from Rylen. All the mighty contenders, the night of festivities, oh and the amazing delicacies. Well the cheeses anyway, apparently there was a lot of cheeses served from all over Thedas? Brie, Camembert, edam, cheddar, blue vein….’

‘Oh Alistair, you and your love affair with cheese!’ grinned Leliana, producing a chuckled from the Warden-Commander.

‘It was a memorable day.’ agreed Michel ‘The Inquisitor was most generous in her reward to myself.’

‘Oh the theatrics!’ chuckled Rylen ‘You should have seen Michel here scaling the wall after defeating Ser Perth, rose in-between his teeth as he presented it to the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor offers him a bag of gold, and the man tosses it aside in return for one kiss! Now that is food for the poets!’

Cullen stirred in annoyance, nodding in silence to Leliana who was staring at him with warning eyes.

‘Flowers always do the trick.’ agreed Alistair ‘How on earth did you climb a wall in full armour?’

‘With great difficulty,’ replied the ex-chevalier in amusement, his blue eyes sparkling as he reminisced ‘but the means justified the end.’. He threw a mischievous look at Cullen before adding ‘The Inquisitor showed a side to the people that secured a bond. A bond that cannot be broken now.’

‘Ophelia Trevelyan is a remarkable person.’ agreed Alistair ‘For the duration we travelled in the Fade I never saw a more determined person fighting her way to pull us all through that mess. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.’. With a knowing smile, he turned his gaze to Cullen ‘I hear rumours that you and her are close?’

Cullen threw a smile at Michel, before turning back to Alistair. ‘Indeed we are! Well Ophelia and I have been together for nearly a year now, so it's no great secret I suppose?’

‘Well a toast to love,’ smiled Alistair, raising his cup ‘for surrounded by all this hatred it is something we all need in our life.’

Leliana sighed, raising her glass ‘Toasting to love? Oh Alistair, in some ways you have never changed!’

‘Oh here we go, the insults have started again.’ teased Alistair ‘Next thing I know my pants will go missing again.’

‘Again?’ grinned Leliana.

‘Oh nothing, I’ve said too much.’ replied Alistair quickly, before standing up to make his announcement as the second round of food arrived. ‘Everyone eat and be merry, for we the Grey Wardens and the soldiers of the Inquisition stand united. Together we are a force to be reckoned with. As the Maker is my witness, Corypheus will regret the day he made enemies with all of us!’

The men and women roared in approval before commencing the feast, the loud chatter filling the halls as the merry night went underway. No one noticed the pair of scowling amber eyes or the pair of disapproving deep blue, always lifting to meet each other every now and then. For not everyone were friends at that table, united as one. Indeed an ex-templar and ex-chevalier grew to dislike each other more and more as every painful minute passed.

****

As the star-filled blue desert night proceeded into the red dawn of an early morning, the drinking and merriment at Adamant Fortress continued. After witnessing a rather drunk Alistair sing too many songs about mabaris and goblins, Cullen decided to retire for the night. Heading towards his chambers, he was surprised to see the door open and Michel de Chevin sitting in his chambers awaiting his return.

‘Maker’s breath.’ muttered Cullen as he walked into the room ‘Not that I’m not flattered Michel, but I'm not interested in that sort of company.’

‘No I imagine I don’t fit your type. Brown hair and green eyes?’ replied Michel casually ‘Or should that be long black hair, white skin and green eyes?’. The Orlesian shrugged ‘I suppose you have many, many types?’

The Commander chuckled as he stood there, facing the straight-faced ex-chevalier who was now standing before him . ‘The pot calling the kettle black isn't it? What is it that you want Michel? I'm tired from a long day of traveling and have no time for your nonsense.’

‘Ophelia is with you.’ stated Michel bluntly ‘I want you to know despite our differences I intend to honour her wishes when I return to Skyhold.’

‘Oh yes because you made that so apparent at dinner and in that ludicrous letter that you sent her.’ muttered Cullen, pulling off his black boots as he sat at the edge of his bed. ‘Please do not insult my intelligence. I know what your honour is worth.’

‘Surely you can handle a little banter at dinner.’ Michel chuckled, sweeping back his blonde locks ‘So did Ophelia show you the letter, or did you take it upon yourself to read it?’

Cullen smirked, the scar on his lip curling. ‘Oh Michel, poor poor Orlesian fool that you are. Ophelia asked me to read it. She was baffled by your odd behaviour, as we all find ourselves from time to time. Quite the past you have concealed from everyone, have you not?’

The ex-chevalier shrugged ‘My time here has taught me many things. I'm not ashamed of my past anymore, nor will I let it shape me. There is nothing to conceal any more. My only regret is that I did not tell Ophelia sooner.’

‘What about your elven heritage?’ asked Cullen nonchalantly, proceeding to unbuckle his breastplate.

Michel sighed, growing quiet for a moment. ‘I suspected from your remarks at dinner that Ophelia must have told you. Believe it or not, I'm proud of my heritage. I'm not ashamed of being part elf.’

‘No of course not, that is why you concealed it from everyone.’ observed Cullen ‘I must say Michel, you are a remarkable liar! I think even you believed that one!’

The Commander laughed to himself as he removed his breastplate over his head.

‘Emma shem’nam, ma emma harel.' replied Michel darkly.

Raising an eyebrow, Cullen shrugged as Michel refused to interpret.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment then.’ informed an amused Cullen, removing his gauntlets and throwing them roughly on the table, narrowly missing the ex-chevalier.

‘I need to know that we can still work together when I return to Skyhold?’ continued Michel sternly ‘If this is how we are to be, there is little chance of anything being achieved for the Inquisition. I want to serve our cause without personal differences getting in the way.’

‘I tend to agree with you there.’ nodded Cullen ‘If you keep your mitts off Ophelia, well who knows? Perhaps we could even be friends one day. I would work with you happily if only you respected the wishes of Ophelia and myself.’

Michel pursed his lips in annoyance. ‘I meant what I said in the letter. I will not interfere. What Ophelia and I shared was a result of circumstance, and as happy as we were our circumstance changed in the end. Maybe Ophelia would have been with you had she not seen you with Mabel? Perhaps Ophelia would have been with me now had I told her the truth? But I did not, and I accept that she is with you.’. The ex-chevalier drew a finger to the ex-templar ‘Just to make things clear between us, I have always respected the wishes of Ophelia.’

‘Since when does taking a heartbroken woman on an insidious retreat show any inkling of respect?’ scorned Cullen, looking angrily at the man before him ‘You laid out a scene in that sordid little garden in the hopes of fucking her, which you achieved. Again, how was that respecting her wishes?’

Michel looked a little surprised at the mention of the garden. ‘She told you about the garden in Tanteridge? Well I did take her there with the purpose of having a meal. And she asked me, even before we got to the food, if I would make love to her. I am sorry Cullen, I fear some of the details of your story are a little skewed.’

Cullen rolled his eyes ‘Of course, because all you intended to do was eat a meal in a private garden for the entire night. Michel please, I am tired and were you to reassure me of your pure intentions for years I would think no better of you than I do now. You will return with our Inquisition soldiers to Skyhold when we depart, and you will continue to act as second in Command at the keep. We shall work together, but I will make you learn your place if you forget.’

Standing up, Michel nodded towards the Commander ‘Then we have little else to say. Good night Commander.’

‘Close the door on your way out.’ replied Cullen flatly, turning his back from Michel as the door slammed shut.


	33. Pools of Sorrow

  


As late afternoon approached, the gloomy ashen skies outside had somewhat deflated the moral of the residents in Skyhold. Instead of a spritely step, people were shuffling along with coughs and complaints of the unforgivable chill in the air. Although autumn had only but arrived, snow had been spotted on crags all over the mountainside and the stone paths were becoming harder to travel along as the days progressed. Dismally the men and women of Skyhold braced themselves for the colder months ahead whilst sadly reminiscing on happier and warmer days. As impressive as the mighty keep on the Frostback Mountains may have been, it also served as an ice chamber for three-quarters of the year and no one found that palatable.

The residents of Skyhold huddled about, robes wrapped tight and blankets pulled firm around their shoulders as the smell of roast vegetables cooking from the kitchens below began to waft into the main hall. Athalwolf and I gathered by the great fire pit, trying to warm our frozen fingers as my companion patiently guided me through his recent arcane creation.

Shaking my head I threw the papers down in frustration, the pages scattering onto the cold stones before us. Pages detailing in painful precision the art of performing the enchantment to release the Red Templar’s. Athalwolf looked up at me curiously as I stared helplessly at all the loose papers before me. After a few minutes of silence, I looked up at him with a grin.

‘Seriously, can we change your role to dungeon keeper instead?’ I teased ‘I mean, since you are so good at torturing people who dare attempt learn your spells. I can’t even imagine how you created this monstrosity let alone performed it! There has to be at least three pages of incantations here alone!’

Athalwolf chuckled, running his hand across his unshaven jaw as he fondly looked over the pages he had written. It was obvious that the mage was proud of his creation. ‘Four pages actually, if you include the preparation spell needed before you recite the spell.’

Running my hands through my hair I groaned loudly, causing a few people in the hall to look our way. ‘You’re like Enchanter Lockston from Ostwick telling me to read the entire collected works of The History of Crustaceans and Their Magical Properties before the next day. Six volumes in total!’

‘Really? That sounds very interesting. Pray what are the magical properties that crustaceans possess?’ inquired a mischievous Athalwolf.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. ‘I don’t know, I never got past the first chapter.’

‘I admit the spell I've created here is not the most mage friendly of spells.’ Athalwolf confessed with a grin ‘It may not be as easy to cast as something like Winter’s Grasp or Fire Bane, but it works. That's all that counts at the end of the day.’

‘No I dare say embarrassing myself in front of a hoard of angry Red Templars by incorrectly reciting this spell, reading it off paper mid-battle mind you, only to transform their helmets into flowers is all that will count.’

‘You will be fine.’ he reassured.

For the first time I noticed how striking Athalwolf’s dark and woeful eyes were amongst the mop of black curls on his head. There was a likeable and friendly gentility in the mage’s features, and yet in those eyes a terrible sadness dwelled. Where did that melancholy come from? I remember it was there the day he had arrived at Skyhold, and that was before Mabel had died. Athalwolf was dearly loved by the mages at Skyhold, to the point that I now had appointed him to command the mages. He was extremely gifted in the arts, highly knowledgeable in matters of the arcane, and had the time to attend to the mages on a daily basis. Athalwolf took the role with great pride, always managing to rally the spirits of his fellow mages. I often wondered how such a person, who had clearly suffered from great sadness, managed to keep his amicable nature fully intact.

‘Trust me, if an apprentice mage can learn how to perform this spell you can too.’ added Athalwolf in encouragement.

‘Yes, that's not reassuring me in the slightest.’ I sighed ‘Actually now I feel worse when I inevitably fail!’

The mage look amused, piling the papers neatly together once more. ‘Practice and patience, that is all you need. Maybe I've had a little too much solitude these last few months, but I confess it helps when learning new spells.’

Looking over to my companion, I noticed him growing quiet.

‘Athalwolf, forgive me if I’m prying…I was wondering...that is to say...how are you? I mean, since Mabel’s death?’. Silently cursing my ineloquence, I threw him a half smile. 'From friend to friend, I just wanted to see how you were going?'

The mage drew his hands to the fire, warming them as he stared intensely into the flames. ‘I miss her dearly. There's not a day that goes by that I do not think about what happened to Mabel. I wonder what occurred in her final moments when Josephine took her form, and whether she suffered in her death? I blame myself for not realising the Mabel I had travelled to Skyhold with was actually an imposter. Should not I, Mabel’s very own brother, have known? I blame myself for lying to father and telling him Mabel died in a surprise attack of Red Templars as we were travelling from Denerim. I feel like I have let down all of my family….’

In this miserable revelation I could now perhaps fathom the sadness in Athalwolf’s eyes, although I could have sworn the first time I had met him he had already possessed those pools of sorrow.

‘I'm sorry, death is never an easy concept to grasp.’ I observed dismally ‘Lying to your father to prevent a potential war against the Inquisition was such a selfless act. You know that, right? You've prevented the loss of many lives that would have been taken. You're a hero.’

Athalwolf chuckled sadly, shaking his head in disagreement. ‘No, I'm a man who lies. Men are never heroes, for heroes only exist in legend where there are no flaws to fill the cracks.’

It was an interesting notion, and I found myself somewhat agreeing with the mage. A hero was a perfect creation, flawless and mythical. Like The Herald of Andraste or The Maister of Blades. No one I knew, especially not myself, was capable of being the cynosure of all in our heroic role. We were all flawed, never able to be the paragon, and yet those shadows brought out our humanity where perfection perhaps never could?

Athalwolf continued, a serious look on his face. ‘I know my father. Had he known that Josephine, a member of the Inquisition council, had murdered Mabel…well, let us just say he would not have stopped until Skyhold had been left a smouldering ruin on the mountainside. I could not let that happen.’. The mage grew quiet for a moment, lost in his own thoughts before he added quietly. ‘I need to atone for many things and I intend to. I intend to.’

‘It wasn't your fault that Mabel died.’ I argued ‘I hope that's not what you are atoning for?’

Athalwolf sighed, shaking his head. ‘No Ophelia, it's more than that. Life's path is never a straight line.’

‘That is an understatement. My life is nothing like I expected it to be.’

The man shrugged ‘We are mages, what chance did any of us of having a life at all? From the moment we are born we are bound to and punished for something that we did not choose to have.’

‘At least you managed to leave the circle tower and became a court mage.’ I pointed out ‘Going by my talents at Ostwick I was destined to a life of cleaning magical equipment.’

Athalwolf looked over at me and the sadness on his face was overwhelming. ‘If they had just treated me like a human being and not a monster I would never have done the things that I did.’

Perplexed as to what he meant by that, I was about to ask before being distracted. In the distance the low loud call of the keep’s horn sounded, and we both looked up suddenly. It was to notify Skyhold that the Inquisition entourage had returned.

With an apologetic smile, I stood up. ‘Forgive me Athalwolf, I need to go.’

The mage nodded, only half aware I was there. Athalwolf remained still in his contemplative state, staring into the flames once more and absorbed in matters I was not privy to.

Running outside the main doors of the great hall I could see the Inquisition army riding through the courtyard, a stampede of at least sixty soldiers or so in full plate armour led by Cullen and Michel de Chevin at the front of the ranks. The residents of Skyhold cheered loudly as they saw their Maister of Blades return after so many months of being away. With a dazzling smile the ex-chevalier waved and laughed to the people from his horse as they clapped and whistled in delight, with more than a few women blowing kisses to him from the crowd. With a stern expression Cullen rode next to Michel, his jaw firm and his attention fixated ahead of him. On his other side rode Leliana, her hood drawn over her head to conceal any emotion that may have been revealed on her face.

‘So Curly and Nightingale have finally brought Goldilocks back from the desert.’ chuckled a dwarven voice behind me ‘That would have been a lively party on the road.’

Turning my head, a grinning Varric was leaning against the wall twirling a bolt between his fingers.

‘I’m surprised he’s back in one piece to be honest.’ I replied, watching afar as the party dismounted outside the stables.

Master Dennet was already yelling at a few soldiers for not taking care of their horse’s shoes properly, apparently worn down by all the travel. Waving his arms, he was barking orders at the stable hands to take the mares away to be tended to whilst Blackwall also attempted to help lead the many horses into the stables.

‘So are you on board with this whole restoring the templars business, or is that Commander Curly running the show again?’ asked the dwarf, an ever-present mocking tone in his voice.

Turning to the rogue, I threw him a baffled look. ‘Varric they are going to help the Inquisition. It's a good thing.’

Varric laughed, looking up at the sky as if sharing his amusement with the Maker. ‘Well Inquisitor, I gotta say that’s a hell of a lot of bullshit to digest! What do you think the templar’s will do after that annoying ego-maniac Corypheus has been booted? Take tea and biscuits with the mages?’

I felt my stomach churn as I predicted where this conversation was heading. Ever since Cullen had mentioned his plans about restoring the Order I had conveniently tried to push the notion out of my head. Ignorance was bliss, as always.

‘The mages are free now.’ I replied uneasily ‘It’s not like the templars can drive us back into the Towers.’

‘Heck they could have you all rounded up before you can say have a face full o’ me boot ye jelly boned thumb suckin’ crud bucket of a templar!’ exclaimed an amused Varric.

‘You’ve been to The Hanged Man recently, haven’t you?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Well that tab isn’t going anywhere by itself.’ chuckled Varric ‘Now now all I’m saying is, the last time I heard those circle towers still remained in physical form and were ready for tenants. Face the facts. You’ve got a Templar Order connected to the Chantry with the support of the Chantry and most of the people of Thedas…and then you have a bunch of mages that went AWOL and most people are shit scared of. Who do you think has the upper hand at the end of all this?’

‘Do you really think Cullen would try and drive me back into a tower?’ I asked indignantly ‘Come on Varric!’

‘I’ve seen him capable of more than that before.’ muttered the dwarf, kicking the dirt under his feet.

Frowning, I turned away ‘That’s behind us now. He wouldn’t hurt me.’

Varric threw his hands up in the air. ‘I dunno kid, maybe because Cullen will be running the show he’ll make an exception for you? Maybe he’ll tell his templar buddies that he’ll watch over you, while every other mage gets shoved back behind their stone walls? Before you know it you’ll have another Blondie causing grief to make a point in the worst kind of way, and the fate of every mage will be sealed forever.’

‘No but…Cullen has changed.’ I replied stiffly ‘He doesn’t hate mages anymore.’

‘I don’t know about you, but I’ve come to learn one thing about people. People don’t change.’ informed Varric ‘Not even the ones who tell you they have, funny thing that? Especially not the Templar kind that spend a lifetime distrusting mages with a passion and now suddenly say they trust mages. Look I like Curly, don’t get me wrong, but I can also see when a massive storm is brewing from a mile away. This is the kind of storm that makes you go oh damn I wish I’d listened to my exceptionally talented and handsome dwarven friend and got outta here sooner!’

‘Who’s that?’ I teased.

‘I’m only saying this because I have a soft spot for you and those mages.’ chuckled Varric ‘Call me crazy, but something doesn’t sit right about locking away people forever just because they were born with a few tricks up their sleeve.’

I threw my friend a shrug. ‘I thought that is what the people were beginning to see now? That mages are not to be feared.’

‘People are always going to fear what they are vulnerable to.’ pointed out Varric ‘Mages could reassure everyone they are not a threat until they go blue in the face but it won’t make a damn bit of difference. Now I don’t wanna blow my own trumpet here, but a Tethras prediction is a rare but incredibly accurate foresight into the future. Mark my words, that man down there is ready to restore the templars to their glory days and you and your kind are going to play a bigger role than you’d probably like.’

‘He took his templar shield to Adamant Fortress.’ I frowned, looking dark as the grey clouds forming above.

‘Templar shield?’ inquired Varric, obviously confused by the comment.

Sitting on the steps, I wearily rested my arms against the hard stone as I continued watching the army from afar. ‘You know Cullen’s Inquisition Commander ceremonial shield?’

‘Big shiny lion with enough gold to build an Orlesian palace?’ scoffed Varric ‘Oh I think me and every thief from here to Seheron has noticed that piece of clink.’

‘Well he didn’t take it with him on this journey.’ I explained ‘For the first time ever Cullen left it behind in our room and took his old templar shield instead. By the blazes I never even knew he had kept his old templar gear! And now he is associating and dressing himself as a templar again?’

‘The Commander replaced his Inquisition shield with the templar one?’ muttered Varric, sitting down next to me in defeat ‘Heck I don’t know what to say, seems pretty obvious to me.’

‘Maybe it was for show? You know, to let the Grey Wardens see that the templars are one with the Inquisition. Symbolism and all that?’ I suggested, now definitely unconvinced.

Varric laughed ‘Yeah sure, that’ll be it. Ah look I’m not saying we’re all doomed yet. I’m just saying be careful. Be prepared. You’re in a position of power, being her Inquisitorialness and all that, so you have a chance now to nip it in the bud. When all this Inquisition business is over you won’t have the standing that you do now…and heck it’ll be too late then. You’ll be back in a tower or living in The Hanged Man going rogue all over again. Actually the latter sounds like a pretty good future.’

‘What can I do Varric? I can’t just tell all these saved templars to bugger off?’

‘Now now, I’m not saying set the horses free. Just tighten the reins.’ replied Varric with a friendly nod, looking over to a few soldiers in the distance who were waving him over to the tavern. ‘Let them unite under the banner of the Inquisition as soldiers. Not as templars. Curly is making this all about the Order, you and I both know that. You need to make it about the Inquisition.’. Standing up, Varric began to descend the steps. ‘Heck I hate to be the one to say this to you, but you hold the key to saving the mages of Thedas and you have one chance to do it without causing any more bloodshed. Come on, let’s go get an ale at The Herald. _You have about five seconds to escape.’_

‘Escape? Escape from what?’ I called out as Varric scampered down the steps faster than a bolt being shot by Bianca.

‘Ophelia.’

Turning around I was faced with a blue eyed ex-chevalier standing at the entrance of the hall, the last rays of sun shining on his armour and blinding my eyes. Michel held an affectionate yet reserved look on his face, one that looked desperate to remain politely reserved despite his feelings. The ex-chevalier physically looked well, as if he had been training harder since he went away, and his arms and frame were noticeably more built in muscle. His snow white skin had grown a little warmer in colour from the harsh sun of the Western Approach, and his blonde hair fell a little longer that the last time we met. However in his eyes there was a hint of woe that I had not seen before.

Drawing a deep breath I suddenly noticed someone coming behind him, half way down the main hall.

_It was Cullen._

Cursing Varric under my breath for not pulling me into a run behind him, I picked myself off the stairs, brushing off the dirt.

‘Michel!’ I exclaimed shakily ‘Uhh…welcome back to Skyhold.’

‘Ophelia I need to-‘ begun Michel.

‘Glorious is it not? Michel de Chevin has returned.’ interrupted Cullen abruptly, passing the ex-chevalier at the entrance and coming towards me. Pulling me tight against him, the Commander leant over and passionately kissed me as he ran his hands suggestively across my hips. ‘Hello my darling.’ he murmured, flashing me a mischievous wink ‘Did you miss me?’

‘Cullen.’ I replied precariously, knowing all too well what mischief he was up to.

‘I confess this trip had made me so incredibly hard knowing I was going to fuck you the moment I returned.’ he murmured in my ear, although loud enough for Michel to hear ‘Come let us return to our chambers so I can ravish you just the way you like it.’

My eyes narrowed in on my companion. I knew Cullen was enjoying taunting Michel but I certainly wasn’t having as much fun. Refusing to release me, Cullen spun me around and wrapped his arms tight around my front so we could face Michel together.

‘Michel and I had a lovely trip, wouldn’t you agree Maister of Blades?’ observed Cullen pleasantly.

‘It was memorable, as always Commander.’ replied Michel coldly ‘Forgive me, I'm feeling rather tired and shall retire for the day.’

‘Oh do not let me interrupt you and Ophelia.’ grinned Cullen ‘Was there something you wanted to say to her before we retire also?’

The ex-chevalier stood tall, his blonde hair catching the light as a thought came to mind. Michel suddenly smiled back at Cullen, his face lighting up once more.

‘On the contrary,’ replied Michel confidently ‘I think Ophelia has heard everything that needed to be said.’

With a chivalrous bow towards me, the ex-chevalier raised his head and his blue eyes held mine for a moment before he passed Cullen and I on the stairs, descending into the courtyard below.

‘That was mature of you.’ I informed, nudging a smirking Cullen in the ribs ‘I suppose you had fun torturing him with snide remarks all the way from The Western Approach?’

‘I have no idea what you mean.’ replied Cullen innocently ‘I was certain it started long before that?’

The Commander’s breathing grew deeper as he drew me close to him once more, his voice smouldering as he wrapped his arms tight around me. ‘I meant what I said though. Now.’

Without another word, the Commander grabbed my hand and led me down the stairs, crossing the courtyard and ascending the stairs of the battlements towards his study. When we finally arrived in his room, I was breathless as he pushed me into the center of the room and locked the door.

Turning around Cullen enthusiastically swept me into his arms, his hardness pressing against me as he began to kiss my neck. Pushing me back against the study table, the Commander continued to plant kisses all over as he hastily began to unbuckle the sides of his cuirass, pausing to pull it over his head and drop the heavy metal to the ground.

‘Blasted armour.’ muttered Cullen, pulling off his greaves and pauldrons ‘Great for avoiding fatal blows, terrible for entertaining totty.’

Cullen chuckled mischievously as I laughed at him. Removing his shirt, the Commander revealed his broad tanned chest and tight abdomen. Delectable smooth and raw naked flesh that I ran my hands over in delight as he pressed himself against me once more.

‘Why Commander you are hard.’ I remarked, running my hands over the material concealing his exceptional bulge.

‘You have no idea.’ Cullen moaned, running his hands over my body as he kissed me on the neck ‘You leave me nothing by memories of our carnal escapades when we are away, and it is sorely lacking.’

The feel of his full lips on my skin sent shivers across my body, and I glassily looked into the distance taking in the pleasure before narrowing my eyes. Neatly folded over the chair was a sash of the templar, one given to all those initiated into the Order.

Cullen drew my attention back towards him, that look of desire burning in his eyes. ‘What is it?’ he asked huskily, rubbing his hands across my buttocks and pulling me hard against him ‘Do you want to go upstairs into the loft?’

The ex-templar pulled me to his lips, cupping my face with his hands.

‘No, I was just thinking.’ I replied through passionate kisses ‘I really want to pleasure you with magic? There is this one spell I know with electricity that-’

‘No.’ replied Cullen firmly as he roughly undid his belt, savagely whipping it away from his waist and dropping it to the floor with a heavy clank. ‘There is no need for that.’ he added.

‘Why not?’ I frowned, taking a step back ‘It could be a lot of fun? In fact it is a lot of fun.’

‘We don’t need magic to fuck or gain any pleasure,’ Cullen replied sternly, stepping forwards to grab my hips with his hands ‘and I assure you I can please you exceptionally well without it.’

Running his hands to my torso, Cullen began unbuttoning my shirt with unbridled enthusiasm. Pulling the garment off to expose my flesh beneath, his lips locked onto my breasts one by one, the warmth of his tongue melting against my nipples as he grazed them playfully with his teeth.

‘Just once. I want to try, even for a moment?’ I added a little more forcefully ‘If you don’t like it I’ll stop.’

Flashing a sinister smile, Cullen ran his right hand along my breast, up my chest and to my neck where he gripped it firmly.

‘Are you arguing with your Master?’ he whispered heatedly ‘I don't want to punish you when I have just returned, but there is a belt over there if you continue with this.’. Pushing me back a few steps, I struggled with his strength as he held me tight with one hand, his eyes dark and lust filled as he looked deeply into mine. ‘Are you going to behave?’ he asked sternly.

‘Yes master.’.

I shivered as I felt his other hand undoing my trousers, pulling them firmly over my hips and letting them drop to the ground.

‘Take out my dick.’ he ordered as he continued to hold me in place.

Running my hands into his pants, I felt a stiff warm member reaching up to meet me. Wrapping my hand around his mighty rod, it really was rock hard. The ex-templar let out a content sigh.

‘Good girl.’ he groaned as I began to stroke it up and down. The ex-templar’s breathing grew ragged as I enjoyed playing with him, stretching back his foreskin as I stroked him down and reaching further to massage his soft and exquisite balls.

‘I missed you.’ I whispered in his ear as he released me and began kissing my neck, his enthusiasm increasing as his dick twinged every now and then between my hands.

Walking over to the chair, Cullen suddenly grabbed the templar sash and led me to the ladder of the loft. Firmly he lifted my hands above my head and bound them together, tying them to one of the rungs. A devilish smile on his lips, Cullen stood back to admire his work. Silently he walked around me, taking in every part of my nakedness as I waited in anticipation. Cullen stopped behind me, running his fingers along my spine, trailing them softly along my back. His hands reached my buttocks, suddenly digging his nails into my flesh before dragging them across, causing me to cry out.

‘Just a little bit of pain, my love.’ he purred next to my ear from behind, rubbing one warm palm over my derriere before tearing at my flesh again with his nails.

I cried out as I felt him cut into me, but also gasping for more as I felt the other hand reach around and begin to rub my clit. He scratched and he played, scratched and played some more as I writhed helpless and bound.

‘Your arse is covered with my art.’ he murmured, digging his nails harder. Whimpering, I felt his fingers dip into me and suddenly the pain melted into more pleasure. I could feel his ragged hot breath in my ear as he continued to fuck me with his digits and tear at my buttocks. It sent chills of delight up my spine and deep flutters in my stomach. Cullen finally ceased his exquisite torture and walked around to face me once more.

‘I have a month’s worth of cream to fill you with.’ he grinned, running a thumb playfully over my lips before leaning over and biting my bottom one gently.

Falling to his knees, the ex-templar began kissing my belly. ‘And I know just where to put it.’ he murmured, looking up at me wickedly as I watched him kiss my stomach. His lips were warm and sensual, planting soft open mouth kisses lower and lower, his lips descending to reach mine.

Seeing his wavy hair move between my legs, I felt the first wet lap of his tongue against my clit and shuddered in pleasure. Cullen moaned as he began to explore me with his mouth and fingers, sucking at my pearl as it engorged between his lips. Feeling my knees growing weak, Cullen’s strong hands held my thighs firmly apart as he continued the assault, his tongue lapping between my swollen lips over and over again with growing enthusiasm. The bounds secured me tight as I twisted and moaned loudly, feeling myself press into him, losing control of myself as my blood grew hotter and hotter. Unable to hold on, I tried to move my hips away.

‘No I am not finished with you yet.’ murmured Cullen hotly as he spread my legs wider to give him better access. He began sucking and licking deeper in my depths, our fluids mixing together as the Commander refused to relent. Quivering against his tongue, I shuddered orgasm after orgasm as he sucked away.

Leaving me breathless, my eyes met a mischievous and pleased face as Cullen began kissing upwards along my body until he finally rose to meet me again.

‘Are you ready to be fucked hard against this wall?’ he asked wickedly, untying my hands from the ladder.

‘Yes Master.’ I grinned, shaking my arms as the blood returned to them once more.

Using his strong muscular arms, Cullen lifted me up effortlessly as he used his weight to secure me against the cold stones that pressed hard against my back. One hand was on his hard cock aimed up at my mons venus, while the other held me firmly against him.

Cullen moaned loudly as he eased up into me in one long, slow thrust. That first moment of feeling his hard, thick cock sheath itself was so intense we both braced ourselves for a moment, keeping still as we took in the sensation, soft cries uttered from our breathless lips. Finally the ex-templar began to gyrate his hips, upwards and down again as he began to fuck. Arms wrapped around his neck, I held onto the Commander as he continued to thrust forcefully upwards, a soft groan escaping from his lips on every stroke. Cullen was right, he was hard as a rock as his meaty rod rammed into my pomegranate depths. I could see his back rippled with muscles as he continued his onslaught, his firm statuesque physique worthy of worship. Running my hands across his body, I lustily breathed in the warm scent of his skin.

Whilst anchored in me, Cullen suddenly wrapped his hands around my buttocks and carried me back onto the study table. He lay back on the table whilst I straddled his waist, continuing to fuck him on top now.

Leaning over, I began to playfully bite his chest, running my tongue over the occasional white scar. That warm taste of his flesh and his musky scent overwhelmed me as I playfully pulled his skin up with my teeth; grazing and gnashing, teasing and taunting. Cullen moaned louder, the combination of the pain and his fully housed dick making a welcomed combination.

Grinning, I looked up at him ‘Mmm, you like that do you?’

‘Fuck yes.’ groaned Cullen, writhing on the table ‘Do it again.’

Bending further, I sank my teeth harder into his flesh.

‘More. Bite harder.’ he moaned, his head drawing back exposing his broad neck ‘Bruise me, draw blood. Do whatever you fucking want.’

Running his hands across my buttocks, he pulled me deeper onto his cock as I continued to bite him and ride him. Cullen was moaning louder and louder now, his dick thrusting harder and faster as he moved his hips upwards. His eyes rolled back as I bit him harder, drawing blood this time.

‘Harder.’ moaned Cullen, thrusting higher up into me.

I wanted to push the sensation further for him. I wanted Cullen to feel ecstatic in that moment. 

Both of us were seconds away from reaching the point of no return, and before I knew it the words half unintentionally started to fall from my lips.

‘Afluen el voluptatem cupida-‘

A disturbing flash of bright blue light filled the room before darkness fell across my eyes

Time faded and a long time passed, maybe more? All I knew was I found myself lying face down on the cold stone floor when I opened my eyes, my right cheekbone pulsating with heat. A shooting heat surged in my face and I screamed out in pain.

Cullen had used his templar purge to dispel magic.

‘What in the devil were you doing!?’ cried out Cullen, sweeping me off the floor into his arms and placing me onto the table.

The room still spinning, my eyes tried to adjust as silver sparks flashing in my vision. Ascending into the loft, Cullen hastily returned with a blanket which he wrapped around my shoulders as I sat there in disbelief.

‘Maker’s breath, you're bleeding.’ remarked Cullen in concern, wiping the blood from my cheek with his fingers ‘Ophelia? Ophelia? Can you hear me?’

Blankly I stared ahead. All that went through my head was the purge that he had performed on me.

‘Ophelia?!’ Cullen yelled, grabbing my shoulders ‘You're in shock. Look at me. For the love of the Maker, look at me!’

Pulling the blanket around my shoulders tight, I finally met the eyes of the man before me. ‘Did you just perform Holy Smite on me?’ I asked shakily ‘Why in the world would you do that?! You haven’t changed, have you? All this time. It was all a lie, wasn’t it?’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Cullen, shaking his head in confusion ‘What lie? You hit your head, do you remember?’

‘I hit my head? No you made me hit my head.’ I responded darkly, raising my hand to my cheek. ‘I hit my head because you performed a templar purge to knock me backwards and cleanse me of my magic!!!’. Pulling my hand away, my fingers were coated in red. ‘Magic will only end in bloodshed. But not at the hands of the mage…it will be at the hands of the templars.’

‘You took me by surprise, do you really think I wanted to hurt you?!’ replied Cullen defensively ‘I told you I didn't want you to cast any magic. You surprised me and I just reacted. It is an instinct for me to do that when faced with magic.’

‘Cullen it was me, not some dangerous mage.’ I replied furiously ‘But no that doesn't matter, does it? I'm a mage and that is all you see at the end of the day. Yes I now know what you truly want. You want to lock us all up again don’t you?!’

Rubbing his neck in agitation, the Commander threw me a bewildered look. ‘What are you talking about? I told you I didn't want you to perform that damnable spell. But did you respect my wishes? Of course not! No, because in your eyes only mages are the victims. Have you forgotten the fucking nightmare I've been through? Your magic will never be welcomed by me with open arms and you know that.’

Turning, Cullen began picking up his clothing from the floor as he began dressing himself.

‘Why are you so interested in rebuilding the Templar order?’ I asked angrily ‘Is it to recommence your duties after the Inquisition is over?’

The Commander paused, turning back to me with a flicker of disdain in his eyes. ‘So that is what this is all about?’ growled Cullen, looking even more furious ‘Was that shameful spell some sort of test for me? Is that what you were doing?’

‘What do you intend to do with the Templar Order?’ I repeated coldly.

Cullen shook his head ‘Maker grant me patience with you! I want to restore the Order, I already told you that. There is no conspiracy about me doing anything to the mages.’

‘So you're happy for the mages to remain free?’ I pressed ‘After the Inquisition is over and everything is back to the way it was?’

Running his hands through his sandy hair in frustration, the ex-templar turned to the window as he yelled out in frustration. Cullen was unwilling to answer the truth that would inevitably hurt me. His silence was all the answer I needed.

‘Fine!’ he muttered ‘I will not lie to you. However you already are well aware of my thoughts on the matter. I believe the mages should return to the circle towers but have more liberties. Be able to leave and travel, pursue their own interests, have families and live a life. However this needs to be under the watch of the templars, as it has always been.’

‘How in the blazes are we supposed to live a life under lock and key Are you that delusional? You cannot imprison someone and then tell them they can keep their liberties!’

‘Whether you like to hear it not, Thedas needs a Templar Order.’ retorted Cullen ‘We protect everyone when magic goes wrong, and trust me Ophelia it goes wrong all the time. Blood magic, abominations, mages that want to use their powers to control others. Anyone that has the potential to threaten the safety of the people needs to be monitored at all times.’

A sound of disgust departed my lips as I glared furiously at him. ‘Look at all the good we have done for you bastards? By Andraste, it was a blasted mage who released all you templars from your impending doom! You call us a threat? Well we weren’t the ones joining up with Corypheus and killing innocents were we? No but a mage, Athalwolf, did save your damn Order in the end. And for what? So you can lock him up at the end of the day? You absolute ingrate! What would it actually take for you and your templars to change your damn opinions about us?’

‘What Athalwolf did was a credit to all mages, but it does not change the main fact that magic is inherently dangerous and needs to be controlled.’ observed Cullen seriously ‘Look at what happened in Kirkwall? Look what happened at the Ferelden Circle mage tower? By the blazes, look what the Grey Wardens nearly did under the influence of magic?! They nearly created a fucking demon army!!!’

Letting out a gasp, I was more than a little shocked. Varric had been right. ‘So what then? Am I to return to the tower after all this?’. Shaking my head in disgust, I couldn't believe what Cullen was saying. ‘You bloody bastard. I’m good enough to be fucked by you but not good enough to be trusted to be apart of society.’

‘I never said that!’ frowned Cullen ‘I love you. We will always be together’

‘You can’t have it both ways Knight-Commander.’ I mocked ‘If you intend to lock up mages, you are intending to lock up me along with them. Or will I get special allowances to come visit your chambers when your cock needs servicing?’

Grabbing a bottle of wine from his bookshelf, Cullen ripped the cork with his mouth and spat it out on the ground. Taking a large swig or two he finally looked back to me. ‘You must have hit your head hard,’ muttered Cullen ‘you're making no sense.’

In that moment I knew there was no words he could offer to give me reassurance. Clambering off the table I made my way to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open roughly.

‘Ophelia don’t be foolish. Get back in here, you have nothing but a blanket on you.’ ordered Cullen furiously.

Raising my palm, a ball of fire burst into it as I glared angrily at the Commander. Cullen stood strong, his jaw clenched in fury as he stared back at me in a silent rage.

‘Be careful Cullen.’ I warned ‘I leave when and however I choose. No one keeps me imprisoned. Not the Inquisition. Not the Templars. And not you.’

Turning, I stormed off into the night as the winds whipped around me, my bare skin freezing as I scaled the battlements and into the back entrance leading to my quarters through a maze of doors and abandoned rooms. Tears running down my cheeks, I knew there was no way of changing Cullen’s mind. Perhaps Varric was right. People never change.

Yet my sadness stemmed from a deeper reality than just Cullen’s intentions. I cried for the mages and their pre-ordained fate. For every child that was ripped from their parents by the Circle. For every mage that would grow to feel fear as the watchful eyes of the templars never left them for even a moment. For every mage forced to partake in the Harrowing, fighting for their life or succumbing to losing their mind and being made tranquil. I shed a tear for the horror and fear each one of us faced at that turning point in our young lives. I shed tear after tear for every one of us destined to be caged, only seen for the potential to cause harm rather than the potential to aid. Behind stone walls we were humiliated and belittled, treated as dangerous creatures rather than people.

That was when the words of Athalwolf came into my head, and that was when I knew exactly what he had meant.

If they had just treated me like a human being and not a monster I would never have done the things that I did.

‘There is only one thing left to do.’ I muttered darkly to myself.

The Order of Templars needed to be disbanded. Once and for all.


	34. Forever Autumn

  


_We ride like the wind towards our common enemy,_

_Forgetting all the while that the enemy rides besides us…_

There was no Commander beside me that night, asleep under the soft blankets of our bed. Nor was there one in the morning, rolling over to plant a kiss on my cheek before drawing the curtains to a new morning. No, all that greeted me that morning was the silence of an empty room.

Tormented in my sleep, horrific images plagued my dreams that night. I found myself in a rundown village square, the wooden houses rotting in their stumps. Guards were dragging women and men up to the gibbet, their feet scuffing against the dirty ground desperately trying to pull away from their captors. They cried out for their lives, begging in ragged sobs for mercy. With tear filled eyes they cursed the jeering crowd before them, who yelled out for their deaths with a savage and bloodthirsty enthusiasm. Being led in a line, the nooses were placed around the heads of the captured as they stepped shakily upon the foot stools. Sobbing and wailing echoed throughout my mind as I desperately tried to push my way through the crowd of onlookers towards the gallows. But it was too late. The stools were kicked out from under the feet of the sentenced, and they were left to hang to their miserable deaths. Applause sounded from the crowd as the spectators cackled and threw rotten vegetable scraps at the corpses. Men, women and children, all smiling in delight at the limp bodies swinging from the ropes before them….

I woke up red eyed and aching, unable to erase the images from my mind. The dream seemed too real and too personal. The sort of dream that left one uneasy for it felt more lifelike than reality itself. My thoughts finally returned to what had happened in Cullen’s study the previous evening, yet that was no better distraction. Ironically that reality felt more like a nightmare.

Sporting a terrible looking black eye and bruised cheek, showing my face in the main hall that morning was not an option. Instead I scurried off to the kitchens to grab a slice of bread and some tea from the pantry. With wide eyes and slack jaws, the cooks stared at my face with a certain lack of discretion as I hurried away to the back entrance of the keep, settling on the stairs where I had once sat with Michel de Chevin when he had first come to Skyhold.

Miserably I choked back the dry bread between sips of warm tea as I thought about Cullen. Despite our differences, I loved the man. Through all the ordeals we had been through, personally and professionally, a strong unity had been forged between us. Cullen had become my lover, companion, adviser, and friend. My affection for the man had not changed, and in my heart I wanted to run up to him and say it was okay. Everything was going to be fine and we could work out the silly little matter of mages and templars. Yet how was that possible? How could we work through a problem when we both wanted different outcomes? How could we ever see eye to eye when I was a mage and Cullen, in his heart, would always be a templar?

Cullen was determined to reinstate the Templar Order and recommence their duties when the time was right. To put every mage back into the Circle Towers. Even the simple act of sitting here in the sunlight mid-morning, completely isolated and left to my own devices would soon be stripped away from me. Instead I would be locked away in a Circle Tower. Perhaps if I had permission I could get a pass to leave the tower for the day, only to fearfully spend my few hours away knowing that I had to return to the stone prison once more. It would never be the same as the life I had come to know since leaving Ostwick. It was a life I vowed never to return to.

Yet if the Templar Order returned to their duties one thing was certain, my life would return to a strictly regimented schedule. A rigid and onerous routine that would be forced upon me daily. I would have to wake at sunrise each morning, attend to studies before midday, perform practical work until afternoon, housekeeping duties until evening and then share a simple meal with the same mages before retiring to bed, only to start the same day over and over again. My will to go on would slowly diminish as each hour painfully passed by, leaving me ample time to entertain darker thoughts. Thoughts of throwing myself off the tower, or running a blade across my wrists. For if there was no escape only I held the morbid key to my ultimate freedom. I would wear the same set of robes as the other mages, uniforms intended to strip us of any identity we held. One and the same, we would all morph back into the same creature. A dangerous mage that needed to be controlled and kept away from the world.

Cullen would no longer be with me, that much was inevitable. I couldn'tt see how a Knight-Commander would ever come and share a room, let alone a life, with a mage in a Circle Tower under the judgemental watch of his comrades. It was inevitable that I was destined to be cast aside before too long. Perhaps at first Cullen would fervently promise me that he would visit often, only for the visits to grow further and further apart, until one day…he would never return at all.

My heart was already broken.

The hours drifted by like the soft swirls of white cloud above me as I remained deep in contemplation, alone on the steps of the keep. Blackwall threw me a wave from the loft of the stables, a pigeon landed on the tree below as it keenly waited for food, and in the distance the heavy clash of steel could be heard from the soldiers in training. Master Dennet came and left often, and the stable hands instantly began playing Wicked Grace on the stacks of hay whenever their horse master departed. The autumn sun warmed away the chill in the breeze, and the fresh mountain air deeply filled my lungs. The merchants plied their wares to the people passing by, whilst the children scampered about with wooden swords followed keenly by the keep’s friendly mabaris, laughing and squealing in delight as the hounds played tug-of-war with the mock weapons. I did not want to lose all this, my real home, and yet that exactly was what was going to happen. 

Drawing my eyes to my sleeve, I wiped away the tears that formed once more.

_Children_.

When forced to walk along a fine line between life and death, one tends to develop a strong desire to survive. Holding onto life in desperation, I valued it with a ravenous appetite these days rather than taking it for granted in former ones. This appreciation for life revealed itself in many ways, and one of them formed in the desire of having children of my own one day. Never had I entertained the thought until I joined the Inquisition. However when I first witnessed death in battle, I found comfort in the idea of rebirth. The children in the keep were the future of Thedas. There was a spark in their eyes that had diminished in the older generations. It was something we needed to hold onto and nurture.

In truth Cullen and I never spoke about our future together and were content to live in the moment, for that was all we knew was certain. Yet I had secretly fantasised on occasion about a life with Cullen after the fighting was over. Of living with him in an actual home of our own, perhaps in some wooden rickety cottage in a small town in Ferelden? I thought of having his children one day and imagining what they would look like? Perhaps he would ask me to be his wife? Lifelong companions that grew old together, happy and content to the end of our days. Perhaps they were silly and fanciful notions to entertain considering the unfortunate predicament we were in, but I found myself believing that one day I could live a normal life. The simple pleasures of a home and family; things I never had but always secretly desired.

However now it seemed that was not the life awaiting me. When Cullen and the Templar Order regained their footing in the realm, there would be no cottage in Ferelden awaiting me. Any child I may have had in the circle would be taken away from me, as was the protocol. I had witnessed it several times in Ostwick, when a mage would become pregnant from another mage or sometimes even a templar. The child was always taken from the mother, its fate left in the hands of the Chantry.

A cold shiver crossed my skin, and I pulled my arms defensively across my torso as I recalled two mages from Ostwick; Ashley and Jacob. Although romantic relationships between other mages was forbidden, Ashley and Jacob had fallen in love. It was not long after their affair began that Ashley was with child, and in their desperation the mages tried to flee the Ostwick Tower one night. The pair were caught and Jacob tried to defend Ashley from a templar using magic. Jacob was sentenced to five years in Aeonar Prison while Ashley remained at the circle, completely devastated. When her child was born, the templars took the baby away before she even had the chance to hold it. The poor woman was so distraught that she slit her wrists in her bed that very night after they had taken her child away, the templars discovering her bloodied corpse the next morning under the cold sheets of the dormitory bed where she lay.

This was why I had to stop the templars. I couldn't stand by when faced with a chance to stop the injustice and cruelty my kind had suffered at the hands of the callous Templar Order.

If the Templar Order rebuilt it was inevitable I would soon find myself on the run, making a living on the streets and drinking myself into an early grave at The Hanged Man. Mages like Athalwolf would be pushed back into the towers or forced to become apostates, hunted like stags in the forest. Every time a baby was born with magic, its parents would shed a tear of despair. A tear of disappointment for the creation of a mage, or a tear of misery that one day their child would be taken from them.

Life would go on as it always had, but in the most unjust of ways.

Resting my head back against the stones, my eyes wandered across the clearing where I suddenly noticed an ex-chevalier walking towards the stables. Fully armoured and sword sheathed, it was apparent Michel had been busy training with the recruits that morning. Even fitted out in heavy plate mail, Michel de Chevin still had a spring in his step as he playfully ran his hand through the hair of a few passing children. They stopped to ask him a swarm of questions, and the man was more than happy to let a few children hold a dagger he had sheathed on his side. Crouching down to their level, Michel watched them carefully, aiming the blade away from their little hands as the group whispered in awe at holding a real weapon of The Maister of Blades. Finally escaping the onslaught of children with a friendly grin and a wave, the ex-chevalier made his way to a brown haired woman by one of the merchant stalls. The merchant was quite striking from what I could see, and the ex-chevalier’s full attention was upon her as she spoke to him. Michel’s face was luminous, his smile charming and the light hearted laughter that escaped his lips was flighty and carefree.

After blankly staring into the black abyss of my mind, in between watching the pair chat idly away for ten minutes or so, the woman was finally called away by a potential customer. With a wide smile on his face, Michel turned away from his companion and continued on his way to the stables. In passing the keep’s stairs he stopped, finally noticing me perched afar in the corner.

Eyes lighting up, Michel waved to me. I returned the gesture with a slight unease. There was so much to be said between us and yet I had dreaded this moment. After everything that had happened between us, what words could ever do justice to the events that resulted in us parting the way that we did?

As Michel ascended the stairs, the friendly smile on the ex-chevalier’s face suddenly transformed into one of concern, his pace quickening instantly. Rushing up the stairs towards me, Michel fell to his knees to cup my cheek with his hands. The warmth of his palms against my skin made me catch my breath, reminding me of the intimacy that we had once shared.

‘Ophelia, what has happened?’ asked Michel fearfully, running his fingers around the purple welt as his blue eyes darted from my bruised eye to the cut on my cheek ‘Did this just happen to you? Are you alright?’

‘I…’. Pausing, I looked away feeling embarassed from the touch of his hands still running tenderly along my skin. How could I explain how the injury had occurred? I ran my hands uneasily across my arm, trying to avoid the question.

‘Did you go out on an expedition this morning?’ he frowned, continuing to run his fingers gently along my cheek ‘Is that when it happened? No, but this has already had time to bruise. It must have happened last…night.’. Michel’s eyes grew dark and his body rigid, turning his head towards the courtyard before looking back at me. ‘Did Cullen do this to you?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘It’s not how it seems, I may have been at fault here.’ I replied, rubbing my cheek with a wince.

‘Did he or did he not do this?’ asked Michel seriously, looking ready to go and find the Commander then and there. ‘I swear if he has done this-’

‘It was a misunderstanding.’ I explained quickly ‘I tried cast magic last night and Cullen reacted and performed a spell purge on me. It forced me backwards and I hit my cheek on the floor.’

Looking enraged, Michel rose to his feet ‘Cullen,_ ma halam._’. Without another word, the ex-chevalier began to descend the stairs, his fists clenched.

‘Michel wait!’ I called out ‘You don’t know the whole story. Please don’t, you’ll only make things worse if you go after Cullen. And you’ll make things worse for yourself!’

‘Do you think I care what happens to me?’ replied an infuriated Michel, returning a few paces up the stairs to face me once more. Pointing an angry finger towards the courtyard, Michel was furious. ‘That brute intentionally beats you and needs to be taught a lesson.’. Bending down, Michel gently wrapped his hands around mine as he held them tight ‘You must tell me, does he do this to you often? Has he ever hurt you like this before?’

‘No never, Cullen isn’t like that.’ I replied ‘You are concerned but honestly I aggravated the situation. Cullen told me not to perform magic and I tried anyway. It was my own damn fault, and I should have known better. I mean, what mage in their right mind would try to cast magic on Cullen?’

‘Where you trying to hurt him with magic?’ asked Michel in surprise, his anger subsiding a little. 

‘Not exactly.’ I frowned ‘It was a…pleasurable spell. He said not to but I did it anyway, so he performed Holy Smite on me and I was pushed back and hit my head on the floor.’. Pointing to my face I nodded. ‘This happened as a result. It looks worse than it is, really.’

The heavy groan of the wooden door sounded beside us and a soldier passing from the kitchens stepped out onto the stairs. Noticing Michel and I at the entrance of the door, he paused momentarily to take in the sizable welt on my face.

‘Ay Inquisitor, that’s a shiner if ever I saw one!’ exclaimed the man, adding in jest ‘You lose a fight at the Herald or somefing, eh?’

Michel threw me a quick look, before turning with a beam. ‘Hah Dibbons you know the Inquisitor would beat the lot of us before the first round of drinks came out.’ replied Michel cheerfully ‘No, Dennet’s new horse gave her a boot to the cheek just before. Damn filly hasn’t been broken in properly.’

‘Blimey I had a horse do that to me once. Hurt like a bugger for a week.’ grimaced the soldier, rubbing his chin where the injury had taken place ‘Well get some of Master Athalwolf’s poultice on that Inquisitor, it’ll fix you up a treat. Us soldiers use it for cuts all the time.’

‘Thankyou Dibbons, I’ll be sure to get some.’ I replied, nodding in appreciation. As the soldier walked away, I turned back to Michel with a faint smile ‘Thank you for that.’

Michel eased himself on the stone steps beside me, looking over with concern. ‘There's no excuse for anyone using force against you like that.’ he informed gravely ‘No one should ever lay a finger on you, especially not someone who loves you.’

‘Try telling the templars that.’ I muttered darkly, casting him a frown.

‘Templars?’ replied Michel ‘What have they got to do with this?’

‘Cullen intends on restoring the Order, as you well know.’ I muttered. Pointing to my face, I looked at my companion ‘All mages will be subjected to this sort of treatment soon enough.’

Rubbing some warmth into his hands, Michel looked out over the courtyard. The man held a sage expression, as if experience had taught him more than he cared to have learned along the way. ‘Nothing is certain in life Ophelia. You know this applies to the Templar Order, as well as to the mages of Thedas.’

‘So you also believe we need to be forced back into the Circles.’ I exclaimed, somewhat shocked.

Michel turned back to me with a compassionate expression. ‘I would never want that life for you Ophelia.’. He shook his head, looking sadly at me. ‘As for magic though, you cannot be certain who will cause harm in the future. No one can foresee that. Mage, templar, knight, cleric, chevalier, peasant, soldier, king, empress. All of us have the potential to cause great harm.’

‘And good.’ I added ‘As can be seen by what the mages have done for the Inquisition already.’

‘Yet you have witnessed the harm also caused by them.’ replied Michel gently ‘As you have witnessed the harm of templars. A balance needs to be maintained.’. The ex-chevalier continued as I scoffed at the suggestion. ‘You are a mage but you cannot speak on behalf of every mage out there.’ observed Michel ‘Magic can cause horrible pain and suffering, and that is not something people can ever dismiss. Look at what Josephine and that mage Jowan accomplished with magic? Look at the destruction Imshael has caused by the use of magic? Look at the horrors inflicted by Corypheus?’

‘I'm not dismissing that.’ I replied darkly ‘However every time one mage does wrong, it blackens the name of every mage. We are not all bad.’

‘Not every templar is bad either?’ pointed out Michel ‘Can you really damn the entire Order? Men like Knight-Commander Rylen are good and decent, and would never mistreat a mage. They only want to ensure people like Jowan do not cause harm to others. Innocent people who are defenceless against magic.’

I knew Michel had a point, but I also knew we were not all like Jowan. Shaking my head, I dismissed my friend’s attempt at reason. ‘The entire Templar Order serves a purpose to keep mages under their thumb, irrespective of the individual nature of the mage. This is not about the personal opinion or character of the templars, it is about the duties indoctrinated into their very beliefs as a templar. Mages will never be able to change their beliefs, so I must strip the templars of their duties entirely.’

‘How?’ asked Michel, looking confused ‘Surely that is not possible?’

‘I can stop them from rebuilding themselves as an Order in Adamant.’ I answered ‘It will ensure the templars will serve as no threat to the mages in the future.’

The ex-chevalier shifted uneasily besides me, sweeping his blonde locks back with his hand. ‘This is no simple decision to make, Ophelia. You're threatening to destroy an Order that has been serving the Chantry and the people for centuries. You threaten to take away the purpose of many people.’

‘What else can I do?’ I muttered ‘I'm thinking about the future for all mages.’

‘Work with the Templar Order.’ suggested Michel with a smile ‘If you're on good terms with them now, they will be more willing and compliant to your cause in the future. They may work with you, side by side.’

‘Since when do jail keepers ever work with their prisoners?’ I scoffed ‘Michel you have no idea what it was like being raised in a Circle tower. I never speak of half the things that went on in there because they were too terrible to recall. Some templars take advantage of the mages in the most sickening of ways. I know these people. There is no middle ground with them. If I thought for a moment I could negotiate with the templars I would, trust me.’

The ex-chevalier’s blue eyes melted into mine, woeful and saddened by my comment. ‘That breaks my heart.’ he murmured ‘I knew you did not like to speak about your time in the Circle and I never wanted to pry. I wasn't aware there was more behind your silence. I am sorry ma’arlath.’ Michel hesitated, looking away bashfully. ‘Forgive me I cannot call you that anymore, can I?’

In awkward silence, we both turned away from each other. I knew the words well, and to be honest for a moment there seemed nothing wrong in hearing them. Of course, we both knew the days of being together were now over. There was no place for such endearments anymore.

‘There is nothing to forgive.’ I replied, looking over to him a smile ‘You will always have a place in my heart Michel, you know that.’

Placing his hand tenderly over mine, Michel squeezed it in reassurance. ‘I will support you in whatever decision you make. Just know, there will be many who will not and will despise you for it. What you plan to do will make life harder, not easier.’

‘In the short run, yes. In the long run, no.’ I pointed out.

Looking over to Michel he held my gaze, refusing to leave it as a soft smile formed on his lips.

‘I missed you Ophelia,’ he confessed ‘more than you could possibly imagine.’

Looking away again, I began to pick away at the stones beside me in an attempt to distract myself from the tenderness of my companion. ‘You left me so angry and confused.’ I muttered ‘No explanation? Just telling me to go back to Cullen. You should have known there was nothing you could not have told me.’

‘It breaks my heart knowing I hurt you.’ he murmured ‘I was so ashamed of the part I played in the death of Rochelle, Helena and Clotaire. I never wanted to disappoint you, and even before we had met I knew I would have done so once you knew. Please forgive me for not telling you earlier.’

Throwing him an frown, I nodded. 'I just wish you'd been honest with me that morning. Told me that Leliana had essentially blackmailed you.'

The ex-chevalier nodded, his face growing dark. ‘She got to me in that moment but never again.'. Shaking his head, it appeared there were other matters on his mind. 'The timing was always wrong for us. You and Cullen were together, and I intervened like all those years ago with Helena and Clotaire. I meant what I said in the letter, I will not come between you both.’. Michel grew quiet, looking away once more to conceal his face.

‘I'm so sorry that you lost the love of your life.’ I added sorrowfully ‘That must have been so awful for you.’

Michel looked surprised, as if taken aback by the statement. ‘You are sorry? Not angry?’

‘Of course I am sorry. There was too much sadness in your past already. Losing Helena to her grief and never getting to see her again. I cannot imagine how one copes with such a tragedy?’

Michel nodded. 'I've had many years to grieve her passing. It never gets any easier, but you learn to live once more.'

'Leliana shouldn't have brought it up with you.' I added darkly 'It doesn't help anyone to do what she did.'

‘Are you annoyed for keeping my past from you?’ asked the ex-chevalier ‘In all honesty?’

Shrugging, I shook head. ‘You never owed me a detailed explanation of your past. It’s not like I asked about it and you lied. You were ashamed and did not want to talk about it, I understand that. We all carry around secrets we're ashamed of, and those that say otherwise are liars! Michel you cannot blame yourself for their deaths. You found yourself in a difficult situation, and acted the way you thought best at the time.’

The ex-chevalier shook his head dismally ‘I appreciate your kind words, but I must take the blame. I should have refused to wed Rochelle despite the consequences. I was not the husband I vowed to be on my wedding day, and I was never the son my adopted father expected me to be. People have a way of trying to make you transform into someone you were never meant to be. I think if I truly had to see where the trouble in my life began, it was the day I left the alienage in Montford and my identity was left behind. Make no mistake, life was terribly hard growing up with the elves. My mother died when I was young and I grew up alone, but at least I knew who I was. The moment I left the alienage my life transformed into a lie and I became someone else. I was pretending to be a full blooded human with a false title. As the years progressed my actions continued to decline as I rose the ranks of a terrible and tiring game that society entertains. In the end, I was merely an actor performing a role. I now know that is not the life I want. It is no life at all.’

‘Well for what it is worth, I understand and I am not angry.’ I reassured.

‘Thank you,’ replied Michel ‘you are more forgiving and compassionate than most people. Your ability to do that has always taken me aback. In fact you do not know how much that means to me.’. The ex-chevalier looked fondly over to me. ‘You and Cullen will work through this. I only hope we can always remain good friends.’

Grabbing his hand, I squeezed it gently ‘Always Michel.’. Pulling away, I frowned down at the steps, losing myself to my thoughts once more.

‘There was not this much anger in you before I left. I am sorry.’ added Michel.

Laughing, I threw my companion a raised eyebrow ‘No I assure you it was always there, deep down. Perhaps I was a ninnyhammer for believing everything was going to be better when the mages obtained their freedom from the Inquisition. Cullen never concealed his opinions about mages, I just thought he would eventually change his stance about where mages belonged in society now that we were free. I thought that he being in a relationship with a mage would encourage him to see mages were not to be feared? A fool’s wishful thinking I suppose?’

‘You are not a fool, Ophelia.’ declared Michel ‘I think you underestimated Cullen’s willingness to adapt, that is all.’. Standing up, the Orlesian pulled me up with him ‘Come, let us get Athalwolf to help clean you up.’

Securing his arm around me, Michel pulled me into a tight embrace as we descended the stairs. I could sense how happy he was to be back, and I confess that happiness was beginning to rub off on me.


	35. The House of the Righteous Shall Stand

  
  


The silence of the room had become somewhat unbearable as I leant against the cold wall waiting for the members of the counsel to arrive. Knowing what needed to be done was one thing, but presenting the decision to the war council was another. Only one thing was certain, this was going to be an unpleasant gathering.

Leliana was the first to arrive, her soft leather boots treading lightly on the floor as she appeared almost from out of the shadows themselves.

‘Inquisitor, I came as soon as I could.’ she announced at the door, looking around the empty room ‘Although…I see I am the first one here?’

I threw her a brief nod ‘Thank you for coming on such short notice. I need to address an important matter and it cannot wait.’

Raising an eyebrow, Leliana nudged her head towards me ‘Is there cause for concern? What happened to your face?’

Waving my hand to dismiss the question, I noticed Cassandra walking down the hall towards the room ‘I’m fine. Let’s just wait until everyone is here.’

Running her hands through her fiery ginger hair, Leliana shrugged and walked over to the window. ‘As you wish.’ she murmured, looking out towards the Frostback Mountains.

‘Inquisitor, I received word of an urgent matter.’ remarked Cassandra, stepping into the room ‘What has happened? Has there been another attack?’. In her typical blunt manner, she drew a sharp finger towards my face ‘You have been injured.’

Sighing, I looked over to the door but there was no sign of Cullen. ‘It’s fine, just an accident.’ I answered wearily ‘I need to speak to you all about aiding the saved Red Templars and restoring the Templar Order in Adamant Fortress.’

‘What of it?’ asked Leliana ‘Thankfully the Grey Wardens agreed to aid us, barely mind you. Everything has been going well thus far.’

Looking down the empty hall I silently cursed Cullen for being late to the meeting, if indeed he intended on coming at all. Shifting my eyes to both of the members in the room, I drew a deep breath ‘Look I’m just going to come out with this. I believe the templars would better serve the Inquisition if they integrate back into the ranks of the Inquisition soldiers, not as templars in the Templar Order.’

‘How so?’ replied Leliana shortly, crossing her arms somewhat defiantly ‘What difference does it make?’

Looking between the two women who were painfully examining me now like a specimen in one of Athalwolf’s jars, I furrowed my brow. ‘Because this is about the Inquisition fighting Corypheus, and not about building the Templar Order.’ I explained.

‘Or is this about the mages trying to break up the Templar Order so there will be no more problems with them in the future.’ asked Leliana sharply, raising a brow ‘That hardly seems to be in the Inquisition’s best interest either, no?’

The Seeker nodded ‘We need soldiers that are skilled in combat against magic. The templars are extremely important to have on our side.’

‘Yes important I agree, but let them use their templar skills as Inquisition soldiers and not as an Order of Templars. We should not be wasting our resources to re-establish the Order in Adamant Fortress.’

Leliana and Cassandra threw each other a confused look.

‘Does…Cullen know about your views on this?’ asked Cassandra hesitantly.

‘This is not personal,’ I replied determinedly ‘this is about what I feel is best for the Inquisition.’

‘And the mages.’ added Leliana dryly, shaking her head is disapproval.

My green eyes locked onto hers with fury ‘Do the mages have no right to feel secure in the Inquisition, Leliana? Look at all they have done. You cannot give them their freedom with one hand and reinstate the Templar Order with the other. Tell me how that was ever going to work?’

‘The mages have their freedom.’ remarked Cassandra ‘That has already happened.’

‘Yes but for how long?’ I replied, growing in frustration ‘Once they see the templars rebuilding themselves, what do you think the mages will conclude? You both were the left and right hand of the Divine. You know better than anyone what the opinion of the Chantry is in regards to mages. Do you think we truly have our freedom when the Inquisition is over? Or will the chantry simply order the templars to return to their duties?’

‘We cannot predict what is to come.’ muttered Leliana.

Furiously I looked over to her ‘Well I think I can speak on behalf of all mages by saying that is not adequate reassurance!’

Loud footsteps approached, the heavy tread of boots on the stone floor as Cullen appeared at the entrance of the room. His face was stern as he caught my attention, drawing his amber eyes to mine.

‘Cullen, thank goodness.’ exasperated Leliana, flinging her hand towards me accusingly ‘You speak some sense into her.’

The Commander let out a heavy sigh as if anticipating what was to come. ‘Maker’s Breath,’ he muttered, walking over to the table ‘what are you doing Ophelia? What matter is so pressing that you had to round us up immediately? I am in the middle of training our soldiers out there.’

‘Ophelia wants to disband the Templar Order and make them soldiers for the Inquisition.’ answered Leliana, a hint of a curl on her lips as she looked over to Cullen ‘Perhaps you might have some opinion on the matter?’

Eyes narrowing on me in annoyance, Cullen shook his head. ‘The decision has already been made.’ he replied shortly ‘The Templar Order will stay in Adamant and continue to rebuild itself.’

‘It’s funny because I don’t recall ever being asked to make a decision about that matter before you rode off with half the army to Adamant.’ I replied sharply.

‘Yet you knew about it and said nothing until now.’ retorted Cullen ‘It is done Ophelia.’

‘The last time I checked I was the Inquisitor.’ I replied coldly ‘My opinion seems to differ to yours, Commander.’

Cullen chuckled, crossing his arms as he rested back against the table. ‘Well then, let us ask the council what their opinion is? Cassandra? Leliana? Enlighten me on your thoughts about this ludicrous plan?’

‘I believe the Templar Order plays an important role within the Chantry and the Inquisition.’ observed Cassandra diplomatically ‘I do not see how breaking them apart would help our cause. All it will do is cause unwanted tension. I am sorry Ophelia.’

I scoffed, shaking my head ‘They don’t need to be in an Order to aid the Inquisition.’

‘They are templars Ophelia, that is who they are.’ exclaimed Leliana ‘You cannot take away their Order. If you do, we will lose their support and will have no templars to aid us at all.’

‘Quite right,’ agreed Cullen with a smirk ‘any attempt of stripping the templars of their role would be catastrophic. Look what happened after the mages rebelled?’

‘Oh so somehow the mages rebelling made the templars join Samson and become red lyrium monsters?’ I scoffed ‘However did we manage that in between being abominations and blood mages?’

‘All we are saying is there is no reason to cause tension when we can keep the templars happy and aid us in our plight.’ observed Cassandra calmly ‘They have important information about Corypheus and his plans. We need them.’

‘United, the templars are a stronger force than if they are torn apart.’ remarked Leliana ‘You rip them apart, you will take away their morale. They will grow to despise you.’

‘It is true.’ agreed Cassandra ‘They will not join a cause that seeks to take away their Order.’

‘Well?’ smiled Cullen, looking at me in amusement ‘It appears you have three members on the council who agree that the Templar Order should rebuild and support the Inquisition.’

‘Yet as Inquisitor I have the final say in this.’ I replied bluntly, throwing a filthy look at the smirking Commander ‘I am sorry but the Templar Order will not rebuild under the Inquisition. They can remain as soldiers for the Inquisition but our resources, and the Grey Warden’s, will not be wasted in restoring the Templar Order.’

The Commander shook his head, cursing under his breath before looking back to me. ‘If you want this, you go tell the templars at Adamant yourself.’ hissed Cullen ‘I will play no part in this madness. Go explain to the Order that you intend to destroy them and see how solicitous they are to our cause after that. Your childish behaviour will sink the entire fucking ship.’

‘I can go,’ muttered Leliana darkly ‘perhaps there will be some way to placate them?’

‘No,’ replied Cullen sharply, throwing a steely glance to the Spymaster ‘you let her clean up her own mess. Maker save us from embarrassing ourselves for the sake of Ophelia Trevelyan. Perhaps some good will come of it and the people will demand a new Inquisitor be appointed. One that is not a mage.’

With a scoff, I idly shifted through some pages on the table pretending to not feel utterly crushed at the callousness of Cullen’s sentiments. He meant every word he said and I knew it. Deep down I had always known it.

‘Inquisitor, I strongly recommend that you do not do this.’ warned Cassandra, looking more than a little concerned now ‘It could cause immense trouble with the templars. At the moment they are in our favour. You face transforming this gratitude into hatred, and possibly even revenge. The templars will not take being disbanded by a mage lightly. In fact they will most likely leave and re-band irrespective of your wishes, fuelled with a greater dislike of mages.’

‘Common sense makes that apparent enough to see,’ mused Cullen ‘and yet the Inquisitor seems to be lacking it in spades.’

‘Well if I had any doubt of your intentions before, you are making them abundantly clearer by the moment Commander.’ I retorted ‘I think we can all see that you are annoyed your Templar Order will lose its control over the mages.’

Cullen flung his hand in the air, completely bewildered ‘Again she goes off on a tangent about the mages. Ophelia think about it. We need the templars to fight against Corypheus, who has magic on his side. We are not rebuilding the order with a secret ploy to destroy the mages. You are being paranoid and unreasonable.’

‘Fine.’ I snapped ‘Then give me your word that when the Inquisition is over you will not send the mages back to the towers. Give the mages your word that their freedom will be respected. Do that and the Order can rebuild with all our blessings.’

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief ‘I am one templar in an entire Order. My word would count for nothing.’

‘Ex-templar.’ I muttered, throwing him an accusing look as Cullen held my gaze with fury.

Leliana placed her palms heavily on the table, her head bowed down before looking up at me, a lethal glint in her eyes. ‘You cannot use your role to your own advantage.’ she remarked softly, yet threateningly ‘That is a dangerous piece to play, Inquisitor.’

‘I am not using my role to my advantage.’ I replied shortly ‘I’m making decisions for the benefit of the Inquisition and its members, which includes the mages.’

‘No one has the power to disband the Order except for the Chantry.’ continued Leliana sharply ‘You will lose their support, and then the people of Thedas. Our reputation will crumble like dry clay. There will be no one left who will want to associate themselves with the Inquisition if you turn this into a mage agenda.’

‘I am sorry, the decision has been made.’ I announced to the party before me ‘I will set off to Adamant tomorrow to inform the Templars and the Grey Wardens.’

Cursing under his breath, Cullen looked to Leliana and Cassandra. ‘I need to talk to the Inquisitor alone.’

‘Fine, talk some sense in her for all our sakes.’ scowled Leliana ‘We have all worked too hard for her to rip the Inquisition into shreds for her own benefit.’

The Seeker and Spymaster moved to the door, already huddled in tense conversation as they walked quickly down the corridor.

The Commander approached, standing directly before me as he looked down. Crossing my arms, I looked up at him and waited for the verbal onslaught to commence.

‘Why are you doing this?’ asked Cullen ‘Is it because of last night?’

‘You know there is a lot more than that behind my decision.’ I replied ‘It is about the rights of every mage in the realm.’

The Commander laughed, amused at the comment.

‘You lied to me.’ I added darkly.

Cullen frowned ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You told me that you loved me.’ I replied bitterly ‘No just as a plaything. A pet. No, you said that you loved me and would protect me. How does sending me back to the tower ensure that? I would have sacrificed everything to be with you and keep you safe. While you, Knight-Commander, are planning to cut me loose the moment you get a hint of a promise that the templars could reform.’

‘Again you put words in my mouth that I never said.’ scathed Cullen ‘I said the mages will have liberties under the guidance of templars. Of course we can be together.’

‘Yes but can we have a life together?’ I asked heatedly ‘Are you going to come live with me in the tower?’

Groaning, Cullen leant back against the table. ‘You forget that I too lived in a fucking mage tower Ophelia.’ replied Cullen ‘Templars live with mages all the time. That is what they do.’

‘So you admit you are sending me back! Cullen what about our life together?’ I cried out ‘A home of our own…and who knows, maybe even children one day?’

Gnashing his teeth, Cullen looked at me furiously ‘Look around us Ophelia?! This is not exactly a wonderful environment for having either of those.’

‘In the future it may be, what about the future?’ I exclaimed, growing more impatient at Cullen’s refusal to address the notion ‘Did it never cross your mind that one day we could have both?’

Shadows crossed the man’s face ‘Do not talk like that. I never promised you either of those things.’

Laughing, I shook my head I disbelief. Gathering the papers on the table, I was ready to leave once and for all.

‘You say you love me but would take away the one thing that means everything to me?’ scorned Cullen ‘What faith can I have in someone who does that?’

‘I thought I meant everything to you.’ I retorted ‘Apparently not. That one thing that is so important to you is my freedom. Do you think I would let you take that away from me and my people?’

‘For the greater good there needs to be sacrifices.’ replied Cullen ‘You have lived your entire life in the Circle. You have no idea what horrors magic causes in the wrong hands. I cannot throw away the safety of every person in the realm because I am involved with a mage.’

‘A soldier could turn into a murderer, but you don’t take away everyone’s sword just in case.’ I snapped back.

‘No, we have guards in place to control people that would break the law.’ replied Cullen sharply ‘As we have templars to control the misuse of magic.’

‘And who controls the templars, Cullen?’ I asked coldly ‘Who controlled the templars in Ostwick who forced themselves on the mages they wanted sexual favours from? I knew a girl in that tower that was forced to fuck our Knight-Commander whenever that sadistic prick desired. She was given the choice of giving herself to him or being turned into a tranquil!’

The ex-templar tore his fingers through his hair, almost pulling at it in torment. ‘I would never condone rape.’ he growled ‘I would run a blade through any person who did that, templar or not.’

‘But they did do it Cullen.’ I cried out desperately ‘You worked in the circle, you must have known of templars who took advantage of the mages. It happened all the time. But that is not the worst of it, is it? Tell me honestly, how many mages did you murder in Kirkwall that deserved to die? Under Meredith’s orders, how many were executed or made tranquil for the slightest acts of what you considered misuse of magic?’

‘Do not think you can use my regrets against me.’ scowled Cullen ‘Once again you refuse to look at the bigger picture. How Kirkwall was levelled to the fucking ground because of Anders and all the mages. All of the blood mages.’

‘No.’ I yelled ‘Your negative experiences with mages led to your discretion in executing and making mages tranquil. You were one man Cullen, and look at all the damage you did. Yet you expect the mages to have faith in an Order that is given that kind of power?’

‘Like I said, do not use my past to further your point. You know I am disgusted by the man I became for a time in Kirkwall.’ scathed Cullen ‘The main point here, the only point, is at the end of the day we must protect the people from magic.’

‘But we are not all a threat!’ I replied furiously ‘Yet you will never see it any other way. That is why I am sporting a fucking black eye! No, my decision is made.’. Pausing in a sudden moment of sadness, I looked miserably up towards the man ‘What are we doing Cullen? I love you. I wonder whether you truly love me?’

Slamming his fist on the table, Cullen threw a look of daggers at me.

‘You know nothing of the meaning of love.’ he proclaimed heatedly ‘You are a spoilt child that acts without thinking how it affects others. A foolish sentimental creature than knows nothing of the raw and savage beauty that true love holds. You know nothing of that terrible beast that dwells in the dark and yearns to deprave its very own soul in order to relinquish that demon within itself that desires another with every ounce of its being. To look into the eyes of another and feel their very soul as if you were reaching out and grasping it between your fingers. I feel you like you are my very self. You do not know what it is like to crave the flesh and the mind, with an urge that is unbearable. Suffocating and destructive, and yet it would not matter if one drowned in it, for that…that is the meaning of love. You tell me I do not love you? No Ophelia, it is you that has not loved me. You merely dance to our love while I drown in it, begging it to consume me whole and kill me so I can know peace in perfection. I craved you unconditionally, to the point of madness, my soul being torn apart as I succumbed to a desire I could not withstand. Yet you? You frolicked on the edges of a fanciful admiration, drawn in and yet just as easily pulled away when the right person whispered sweet nothings into your ever suggestible ear. If you believe you truly love me then you are most deceived and I most betrayed. For in my eyes, what you feel towards me is the definition of lust and nothing more. My heart bleeds for you, and yours merely weeps.’

Rendering me speechless, I watched on as Cullen stormed over to the door. Turning around, he threw me a dark look ‘We are over. Do not think I will ever forgive you for doing this, and do not think this is over merely because you chose to overrule everyone on this council. You have shown your true colours to us all here today, and lost our respect. The Templar Order will return one way or the other, and I will make it my personal mission to ensure the mages shall be contained in the end.’

Cullen marched furiously out of the room, leaving me alone once more.

****

The soldiers were busy training that afternoon in Skyhold. Some were sparring in the courtyard, while others were outside the keep performing drills in the forest and performing mock siege attacks from the outside battlements. The clash of steel and the bellow of orders could be heard all around as the soldiers of the Inquisition diligently practiced and perfected their skills of war.

Swinging his sword from side to side, Cullen lunged at a training figurine with unforgiving force. His silver blade ran through the heart of the dummy filled with straw, a lethal blow dealt without hesitation. Beads of sweat formed on the ex-templar’s brow as he withdrew his blade and continued to strike the opponent from various angels. To the side, on top, through the heart. It did not matter. Nothing could sate his desire to maim this battle prop, and nothing would not stop him until it was a pile of dust at his feet.

Just as Cullen was about to strike hard once more his cold amber eyes lifted to see an Orlesian approaching from the gates of the keep. Cullen lowered his blade, and sternly looked on as he waited for his second in Command to address him.

‘What is it Michel?’ Cullen asked impatiently, running his eyes over the recruits also training in the circle with him. The months had proved fruitful in their training, and the soldiers now fought with a steady hand and a sharp eye.

‘I hope you were not imagining me just then?’ remarked the ex-chevalier, a brow raised. Noticing Cullen was not amused, Michel nodded promptly as he proceeded to the point. ‘I just heard about the decision to disband the templars. I wanted to say I am sorry. If the same had happened to the Academie des Chevaliers I know I would be angry and saddened.’

Grasping his hilt firmly in both hands Cullen lunged again at the training dummy, the blade ripping through the straw shoulder this time. ‘You can have her if that is what you have come here for.’ he muttered angrily ‘I want nothing to do with the woman who tried to destroy my Order.’

Michel looked surprised, his eyes flashing across the courtyard as if some joke was about to unfold. ‘That is…that is not why I am here Cullen.’ he remarked hesitantly ‘I suspected you would be angry, but surely you cannot hate Ophelia for acting out of fear? That is why she is doing this, you must see that?’

‘Stupidity, Michel. That is why she is doing this,’ responded an unimpressed Cullen ‘as mages like her always are when they claim their abilities are not dangerous. She, or any other mage, will not play me the fool.’

‘She fears for her future.’ pointed out Michel ‘Yet despite all this conflict in interest between you both she still loves you. I spoke to her earlier. She is not doing any of this to hurt you intentionally.’

‘After her already, were you?’ chuckled Cullen, throwing down his sword and picking up a silver halberd lying against the fence ‘Right on schedule as always.’

Walking over a nearby weapons rack with a hardened expression, Michel picked up a flail. Striking hard at the training figure, he sent splinters flying as the head collided hard with the body.

‘No.’ the Orlesian replied severely ‘I only approached her when I could not help but notice the black eye and wound on her face.’. The ex-chevalier looked coldly at Cullen ‘Despite your actions, she still took the blame for that. Always despite your actions, she still loves you.’

Cullen picked up his shield and rammed the post hard, hacking away at the wood a few times. ‘Take it from me Michel, she is not worth the trouble.’ observed Cullen flatly ‘Being naïve and vindictive is not an amicable combination in a lover. Do as you wish with her, I have had enough.’

Michel flung his weapon on the ground in disgust, causing the Commander to look over at him in surprise.

‘You tell me again and again how you love Ophelia but now you are happy to discard her like a broken bottle?’ exclaimed Michel furiously ‘Again you treat her with hate when she is only looking for reassurance that her future won’t be the past she has ever been running away from!’

Clapping his hands, the Commander laughed in amusement ‘Oh bravo, bravo! That was a wonderful performance! I dare say your rendition of this conversation to Ophelia will make her part her legs for you all the more quicker than a holiday in Tanteridge this time round.’

‘Are you punishing her for standing up for what she believes in, or for being with me all those months ago?’ questioned Michel, a look of disgust on his face ‘The way I see it you are acting irrationally yourself. Neither of you have thought this through.’

‘Go do your job, Maister of Blades.’ muttered Cullen ‘Help me train these soldiers and hopefully we will be able to defend ourselves against Corypheus and his enemies. Though I dare say we will be defending ourselves against half of Thedas soon enough.’

Looking at the Commander, Michel sighed wearily ‘I am sorry Cullen, it cannot be easy in your situation as a former templar. You are put in a difficult position, I understand that.’

Cullen laughed ‘Oh you are sorry? Of course you are! For all I know I am inclined to think you most likely encouraged Ophelia down this insane path. The moment you return to Skyhold everything goes sour.’

Michel looked utterly surprised ‘Surely you do not think I was involved?’

Cullen chuckled sadly, lowering his weapon and shield. ‘On any other day, yes.’ he sighed ‘However I know you were not involved, fear not Michel. I suspect there was some goodwill behind your sentiments today, and for that I thank you.’

‘For what it counts, I did not agree with the decision to break apart the Templar Order.’ confessed the Orlesian ‘Like you, I have seen the terrible destruction magic has caused when I was a chevalier. I witnessed many terrible moments when magic was used to try to deceive and harm Celene and I when I was serving as Champion. On the battlefields I witnessed the destructive force of the arcane. I can never forget the countless lives Imshael took by the use of magic, or how magic released him into this realm. I can never erase the feeling of being possessed by that evil demon when he took over my body. No, I understand the terrible nature magic holds and that there needs to be some form of guidance to watch over it.’

Cullen turned to his companion, wiping the sweat off his brow as he paused to take a break. ‘Well, you may be a womaniser but at least you have maintained your common sense in most regards.’ he remarked ‘There may be some hope for you yet. Now, I have a favour to ask of you. You are to escort Ophelia to Adamant Fortress. Andraste knows I will not be in any way apart of this insane venture, and I refuse to send a large group of soldiers when I need them elsewhere. However Ophelia is going to need some sort of escort along the roads to the Western Approach.’

‘You want me to escort Ophelia?’ frowned Michel ‘Why me? More to the point why trust me when you could send another person?’

The Commander laughed bitterly ‘Because the fates have wonderful sense of humour, that is why. I know you love her, so you will protect her better than anyone else I can entrust. Also you know Rylen, and I want you to explain to him what has happened here. The man is a Knight-Commander in the Order, he will not take this news lightly. Go take Ophelia to speak to the templars, watch the order fall into chaos and return to Skyhold as soon as possible.’

The ex-chevalier sighed ‘If we let this matter of templars and mages get in the way of the Inquisition, Corypheus wins.’

‘Tell that to the damn Inquisitor.’ growled Cullen, ramming his shield hard into the post once more ‘She is about to start a fucking war with the templars and the Chantry. Do you think the Order will back down? Do you think the Inquisition has the manpower to go up against the Chantry? No, they will fight all of Thedas to uphold their beliefs if needs be.’

‘What of you Cullen?’ asked Michel seriously ‘Would you stand against Ophelia for the Templar Order? Where do your loyalties lie now?’

Throwing down his sword and shield, Cullen began to walk off towards his recruits. ‘No one can take away another man’s faith, Michel.’ he called out ‘When they try, there is nothing left to do but fight.’


	36. A Merry Party

  
  


Our journey commenced at dawn with the heavy crunch of gravel and ice under the horses hooves and plumes of frosted air exhaled from the nostrils of the beasts. Eagerly we set off down the windy path of Farinthorn’s Way, leading us towards the wilderness of the Dales. Crag wolves howled around us, concealed in the leafy green forests, and the ride begun with watchful eyes and a keen hand ready on our swords. Despite the bleak skies above, bitter winds surrounding us, and the threat of being attacked by the many predators of Mother Nature, we were in rather good spirits. In fact we were quite the merry party, considering the mission laid out ahead.

With sharp eyes, great strength and exceptional skill, Michel de Chevin and three of his best soldiers lead the entourage through the Frostback Mountains, across the Dales and north up to Verchiel. Naturally the council of the Inquisition refused to join me on the expedition, and naturally I was more than happy to have the lack of company. Instead I gathered the few around me that would be sympathetic to the cause, and provide the support I was otherwise sorely lacking. Feeling it unwise to surround myself with a large group of mages when meeting with the templars, I asked only Athalwolf, Solas and Dorian to accompany me as fellow mages of the Inquisition. All were eager to support my decision, although Dorian had the cynical dry wit to inform me we were most likely traveling to our deaths. Varric willingly offered to go, but not before shaking his head and muttering under his breath here we go again. Even Blackwall offered up his blade, reaffirming his well-known belief that everyone deserved a second chance. And so the ten of us departed Skyhold and rode towards the Western Approach, ready to change the futures for all mages and templars.

After the second day of hard riding, we found ourselves making good time and already upon the Orlesian village of Verchiel. Clouds rumbled ominously, a deep tremor in the skies, as the first drops of heavy rain began to fall and the darkness of afternoon felt like night time had already arrived. Every now and then the flash of lightning sparked on the horizon with a tremendous crack, unnerving the horses and making it difficult for us to control the beasts. Droplets soon began to fall into a torrential downpour, and after half an hour of riding through a grey haze soaked to the bone, the party let out a sigh of relief when spotting a brightly lit tavern on yonder hill. The Foaming Flagon Inn.

Hastily securing our horses at the inn’s stables, we delighted to escape the cold and wet weather and entertain a warm and dry inn. The heady smell of brewer’s yeast filled our nostrils as we entered the small but crowded tavern, with the locals of Verchiel well into enjoying their supper and ale. An impressive fire roared away under a large mantelpiece decorated with embalmed stag heads, the eyes of the beasts almost watching us in an unnerving manner. The loud chatter of patrons deafened our ears, and the smell of spiced meat and freshly baked bread tempted our palates. We quickly arranged lodgings for the night, and made our way to our rooms.

Eagerly changing out of my drenched traveling clothes, I let them dry over a chair by the crackling fire in my room before returning back into the tavern below. Already Varric was deep in his ale, entertaining a large group of patrons about tales of his adventures in former days. The men and women cradled their mugs of steaming mulled wine and dark ale as they listened on in captivated silence, watching Varric re-enact a fight that I suspect never actually happened.

Dorian had Michel cornered at a wooden table at the side of the inn, laughing with boisterous enthusiasm in response to whatever the ex-chevalier was talking about. Solas sat opposite the pair, nursing a cup of tea between his hands while he watched on in silence. Meanwhile Blackwall, Athalwolf and the soldiers were already playing a game of cards, the mage gleefully winning a hand to the irritation of his companions.

Making my way to the group, Dorian noticed me approach and groaned.

‘Well I suppose now is the perfect time to get another bottle of this house Shiraz pig swill they offer here.’ sighed the mage ‘There’ll be no getting a word in with Michel now that a certain person has arrived.’

Playfully Dorian pushed me in arm as he passed, silently mouthing the words gorgeous and I nudged him back in jest.

The ex-chevalier smiled as I sat down next to him, moving over to make room for me. ‘You just saved me from an onslaught of questions,’ he remarked playfully ‘amongst other things.’

Raising an eyebrow, I threw the Orlesian a grin ‘Oh? Please don’t let me get in-between the pair of you.’

Michel groaned, taking a sip of ale from his pint ‘Solas you were here to witness it. How many times has Dorian asked to touch my armour in the last fifteen minutes?’

‘Seven.’ replied the elf flatly ‘Of course that is not including the requests to look at your elvish blade there.’

The ex-chevalier’s blue eyes flickered to the elf before him and Solas nodded in brief knowing, his silence telling us he was well aware of more than he was saying. He knew Michel was of elven descent.

‘How long have you known? Or was it when you saw the blade Banal Nadas.’ asked Michel curiously ‘I often wondered whether other elves could tell I was of their kind, since I do not seem so in appearance.’

‘From the moment I met you I knew you had the blood of the elves.’ replied Solas ‘It is like an echo from a mountaintop, filling the valley below. A drop of water into a still pool, its vibration rippling out for an eternity. The essence of what you are can be felt very easily by those of us sharing the same blood.’

Michel looked pensive, taking another sip of ale ‘Yet you never said anything?’

‘It was not my place.’ remarked Solas calmly, cupping his tea to warm his hands ‘Your heritage is personal, and many find it wise to keep that close to their hearts and away from others. Coming from an alienage, I suspect the oppression would have made you more guarded than a Dalish elf.’

‘It is a sad truth that city elves are not accepted anywhere,’ replied Michel solemnly ‘and this in turn leads to a shame where none should exist.’

‘Banal Nadas?’ I repeated curiously, looking at the weapon sheathed by his side. It was the blade I had seen him wielding at the Grand Tourney, and the one I had seen above his bed in Skyhold. An enchanting double edged silver long sword with green metal vines etched on the hilt. I recalled the blade itself was etched with strange markings, and now realised that they must have been elvish. ‘It means nothing is inevitable.’ replied Michel, running his hand fondly over the hilt.

‘Wise words.’ murmured Solas.

‘It was my grandfather’s sword on my mother’s side.’ added Michel ‘A blade of the Banal’ras Bellanaris. The clan of the Shadow of Eternity.’

‘An ancient and honoured group of elves.’ observed Solas ‘Your kin are well respected Michel.’

‘To be honest I have only ever heard stories of them from my mother when I was a child,’ confessed the ex-chevalier ‘and even those memories are clouded and mostly forgotten.’

Solas smiled, as if wisdom and knowledge were on his side ‘If you ever wish to know more, I have some texts you may like to read when we return to Skyhold?’

‘Thank you Solas. Yes, yes I would like that very much.’ replied Michel, a small smile on his face as he looked contemplatively into his cup, his blonde locks falling across his brown.

I held a smile of my own. It was nice to see Michel embrace that part of him that he had hidden away for so long. You could feel the pride in his voice when he spoke of his elven heritage, and to openly discuss it now was a promising step for the man that wanted to live his life as who he really was. Perhaps we all would be lucky to have that chance one day.

‘Blasted fiery cods of fury! You are dealing me terrible hands!’ cursed Blackwall, flinging the cards on the table ‘I play with the stable lads nearly every day at Skyhold and never once have I received cards like this!’

Athalwolf raised his hands in the air with a chuckle ‘By all means you can deal for the rest of the game if that puts your mind at ease?’

‘We need more ale.’ muttered Blackwall, rising from his seat and heading for the bar.

‘A sore loser, that one.’ I mused, looking over to the smiling dark haired mage. Athalwolf brought his finger up to his lips, raising his robe sleeve to reveal several concealed cards.

‘Why Master Athalwolf! I didn’t know you had it in you!’ I chuckled ‘Actually I do the same when playing with Varric, it’s a very useful technique I find.’

‘Blackwall is the best card player in Skyhold and he knows it.’ observed Athalwolf ‘The man needs to be taken down a notch or two.’. The mage grinned mischievously, his dark eyes skimming across the room before returning to me. Drawing closer, he lowered his voice somewhat. ‘Forgive me for speaking so plainly, but I’ve wanted to say something to you since you asked me to join you on this expedition.’

‘That I am the most talented mage in all of Thedas?’ I replied in jest ‘And exceptionally brilliant in every way imaginable to the point that you cannot fathom how one person could be so magnanimous?’

Athalwolf knocked his knuckles on the table ‘And she stole the words out of my mouth.’. Waving his hand with a grin, he shook his head ‘I just wanted to say that what you are doing for all mages is remarkable. First by securing their freedom through the Inquisition, and now by ensuring their future freedom is protected. Ophelia, you stand to make a difference to every mage in the realm and that is a cause worthy of my respect. I just wanted to say I am proud to be with you on this endeavour.’

‘Well what mage Inquisitor in their right mind would help the templars rebuild?’ I scoffed ‘Corypheus is a threat, but I can assure you more mages have died at the hands of the templars than by his hand.’

‘Well said.’ replied Athalwolf darkly ‘The templars have inflicted countless pain, suffering, torture, humiliation and death, yet no one considers that the Order may be just as evil as other enemies in the realm.’

‘I would be happy to see them never to return to their duties.’ I added.

Athalwolf began shuffling the cards once more as Blackwall returned with more ale. ‘Yet the question is, is disbanding the Templar Order truly justice for the mages? Being released from a life of imprisonment and oppression is not justice. No, there needs to be retribution in addition.’

‘Retribution means more death.’ muttered Blackwall solemnly as he sat down heavily onto the wooden bench ‘Every mage and templar would fight tooth and nail until there was no one left standing. You may have your justice, but you won’t be alive to enjoy it.’

‘And yet sometimes fighting is necessary to ensure matters do not return to the way they were.’ observed Solas ‘If one dwells in stagnation, how can they expect change to ever occur? We have seen it with the elves, and we have seen it with the mages.’

Sighing, I looked around at my companions who were beginning to dispute what the right course of action was. There was no nice way to put it to them that whatever course we chose, suffering would be inevitable. Mage, templar, innocent bystanders. No matter what direction we went, death was inevitable.

Varric suddenly sidled up on the bench, chuckling as he saw the serious faces before him. ‘Well if I didn’t know better I’d say you all just got served a life sentence in the Skyhold cells.’ remarked the dwarf.

‘It feels that way most days.’ I muttered pessimistically ‘Why are you so spritely? I see you’ve managed to chew the ear off that group over there with another fabricated tale.’

Varric pretended to look shocked ‘Why her Inquisitorialness, I merely recount the truth.’

Scoffing at the comment, I threw him a look of disbelief ‘I overheard you say, and I quote, I shot Bianca from the battlements of Skyhold and killed five Venatori with one bolt. How is that even possible?’

Grabbing some bread from the bowl before him, Varric looked more than a little amused. ‘Since when do trifle details like that matter?’ he dismissed with a grin ‘The people know a dashing hero when they see one. I just tell them what they want to hear.’

Dorian leant over to pour more wine into my already full cup, an obvious ploy to loosen my lips. ‘Come Inquisitor, let us have the gossip.’ he asked cheerfully ‘Michel here was just telling me how furious the Commander was. I can imagine him brooding when you told him what you intended on doing with the templars.’. Dorian grinned, looking a little too excited at the prospect of an angry Commander.

Michel threw me a secret roll of his eyes and flashed me a smile.

‘Dorian,’ I replied with a bitter laugh ‘I think it is safe to say the Commander of the Inquisition is fucking pissed off.’

Varric laughed, shaking his head ‘And that is the censored version of what he is actually feeling.’. Grabbing the pile of cards from the table, the rogue began to deal.

‘Are you okay?’ whispered Michel, drawing closer to me as the others begun a round of Wicked Grace ‘Trying to get a moment alone in order to ask you has been rather trying since we left Skyhold.’

‘I am.’ I replied, swilling the mulled wine unenthusiastically in my goblet. Noticing Michel’s unconvinced expression I sighed. ‘Fine, I feel like everyone hates me in Skyhold these days. Cullen has made it quite clear he despises me now, especially now that he has broken ties with me.’

‘I am sorry,’ remarked Michel, looking as if he was still surprised at the Commander’s decision ‘I know that is not how you wanted things to turn out between you both.’

‘Sorry? Don’t be sorry!’ I scoffed, feeling annoyed at the pity I could see in the man’s eyes ‘Cullen told me quite plainly what he really thought about me. I’m sure you can imagine how pleasant that was.’

‘That bad was it?’ chuckled Michel, taking another sip of ale.

‘Well let’s just say I’m on par with Corypheus in likability at the moment’ I muttered ‘Cullen made his views quite clear. He didn’t break up our relationship merely because of the templars, he did it because he questioned my love for him. Apparently I am incapable of it. Truth be told he never forgave me for being with you.’

The ex-chevalier shifted uneasily, a look of self-blame on his face. I knew what he was thinking.

‘This is not your fault.’ I reassured him ‘Cullen and I have been through a lot together, and at the end of the day he stepped away. He did that, not because of you but because of me.’

‘Yet you forgave him for being with Mabel?’ pointed out Michel ‘Is the forgiven incapable of forgiveness?’

Shrugging, I took a sip of wine ‘Apparently so. Mind you, the hate doesn’t even stop there. Leliana utterly abhors me. Cassandra disapproves of my decisions every time I make one at that damn war table. Every templar will loathe me soon enough.’

‘You forgot to add Madame Ruthie to that list.’ grinned Michel, playfully toasting his mug against my chalice.

I chuckled sadly, nodding ‘How could I forget.’

Michel squeezed my hand ‘I can empathise. You forget, Cullen and Leliana are not all that fond of me either. Cassandra likes to disapprove in general, I would not take that to heart. And I know for a fact that if you are not a templar you are no friend to that Order.’

‘The cook likes you though?’ I pointed out, throwing him a grin ‘No, it’s more than that. I am…oh how do I say this without sounding utterly despondent?’. Taking a deep breath, I fixated on the red contents of the cup before me ‘In my mind, Cullen was my true love and best friend. Now I just feel empty. I’d be devastated if I wasn’t so damn furious at what he said to me. I feel alone these days, as in the past. Have you ever had that feeling where you know if you ceased to exist people wouldn’t care too much either way, or really notice that you were gone?’. Waving my hand, I chuckled ‘What am I saying? If you ceased to exist all of Thedas would be in mourning until the end of time itself.’. I shook my head, looking miserable ‘You probably shouldn’t ask me how I feel when I’m this melancholy. ’

‘That is exactly when I should ask you.’ reassured Michel, a smile on his face as his blue eyes drew into mine ‘For what it is worth, I would notice if you ceased to be. I would care.’

Moving forward, Michel placed a quick and discreet kiss on my cheek. Smiling I turned to him, relishing the feel of his soft lips on my skin. The ex-chevalier threw me a fond smile.

‘Do not ever think you are alone Ophelia.’ he whispered ‘No matter what happens in life, I will be here for you.’. Placing my hand in his, he added tenderly ‘You never need to hold your own hand, as you did as a child, to feel you are not alone. I will always hold your hand, and I will never let it go.’

Perhaps it was the chevalier’s sweet poetical heart, but it struck a chord deep within me. That feeling of being safe, loved, and not rejected. There had been so much rejection in my past that the moment I was confronted with it as an adult I found myself quivering like a child once more, reminded of that cold emptiness that left my senses numb. That feeling of being a shadow on a wall, watching the world pass by. Craving to be loved, but never knowing what it felt to be loved. Wanting someone to want me, instead of me always wanting others. To feel worthy of someone’s company, instead of feeling like I was imposing on their time and patience. Wondering what their angle was for sparing a moment for me, and what was the price I would inevitably have to pay.

‘I go to my ruin by disbanding the templars, I am well aware of it.’ I muttered ‘Yet if I do not sacrifice myself for this cause then every mage now and in the future will suffer under the hands of those who claim the right to do so.’

‘Then why do you question your decision?’ asked Michel.

‘I feel like I am tearing apart the Inquisition and I never wanted to do that.’ I confessed miserably ‘Cullen all but said they’ll appoint a new Inquisitor if enough people demand it. Perhaps my actions will amount to nothing, even after all this?’

Michel laughed a cynical laugh ‘The man certainly knows what to say to produce a desired reaction. You do realise you cannot be removed from your position? It would be harm the Inquisition beyond repair.’

‘I think you overestimate my role.’ I chortled ‘I’m half expecting to be rostered to stable duty one of these days.’

The ex-chevalier looked at me seriously ‘No. The Inquisition would appear unstable if a new head was appointed, and the backers would withdraw their support. No one wants to stand behind a group that cannot even agree on their own leader. What message does that send out to the people?’

Throwing a tired look around the room, I noticed all the happy people getting along with each other. Sighing, I looked back to Michel ‘After the templars are out of the picture I’m not sure that I even want to return to the Inquisition. How can I work with a council that despises me? What results would ever be achieved?’

Michel paused, considering my words with some thought. Running his finger along the lip of his cup, he finally stopped with a tap. ‘When I was champion to Empress Celene I could not tell you how many times she was faced with opponents and people who wished her dead at every turn.’ remarked the ex-chevalier ‘One afternoon we were travelling from Ghislain to Churneau and a cross-bolt passed through the curtains of our carriage and planted deep into the wooden headboard behind her, less than an inch from her head. We dove to the floor of the carriage as it sped away down the road as fast as it could, and we remained on our hands and knees being tossed about on the floor until we reached our lodgings.’. The ex-chevalier chuckled, shaking his head as he recalled the moment, his blue eyes lighting up somewhat ‘I still remember what she said to me when we were both there, crumpled flat in that vehicle with her billowing skirts half way up around our faces. Celene said; It may not be the most aesthetic of positions to find oneself in, but it is the right one considering the circumstances.’

Sharing a chuckle with the Orlesian, I nodded in understanding ‘I see your point.’

‘Things have a spectacular way of never turning out quite the way you want them to, but it is what you do with what you have that counts. Make it count.’ observed Michel, adding with a grin ‘Never forget your humour Ophelia, it will carry you through the darkest of times I promise.’

‘We cannot be all radiant hearts and dashing smiles like you, Michel.’ I taunted ‘Some of us are rather taciturn and pessimistic even at the best of times.’

The Orlesian chuckled, running his hand against his jawline of unshaven blond stubble, when suddenly he turned to me and the smile faded away. A brief moment when the beam on his face faded into one of wanton desire, the bulge of his jaw tensing as he held my gaze. Looking away quickly, he proceeded to unsuccessfully pour more wine from the now empty bottle.

‘And that, I believe, is my cue.’ he mused, a hint of pink growing on his cheeks. Standing up, Michel looked around the table ‘Everyone, we have an early start tomorrow. Try and get some sleep soon.’. Looking over to me, he added with a slightly embarrassed smile ‘Sleep well, Ophelia.’

‘Good night Michel.’ I replied with a smile of my own.

Giving me a friendly pat on the arm in passing, Michel departed upstairs to bed.

Watching my companions one by one retire for the night, I found myself lingering behind and unable to entertain the notion of sleep. There was too much to worry about and not enough time to do even that. Thunder cracked and another bolt of light struck in the distance. The rumble vibrated the very foundations of the tavern, and the innkeeper rushed to the window to look at the storm outside.

‘Remarkable, isn’t it?’ I observed ‘How something so powerful can appear from the clouds just like that.’

‘Aye, ‘tis.’ agreed the innkeeper, watching on in fascination ‘It’s funny how some ruddy old clouds can turn out to be so much more eh?’

Shaking my head in confusion, I looked to the tavern owner.

The man chuckled, tapping his nose ‘Lightning makes no sound until it strikes.’

With a nod the man recommenced wiping down the sticky tables while I sat there with a furrowed brow, pondering the words in great depth as the rain began to fall heavily from the skies above.


	37. The Mask Slips

  
  


Our journey to the Western Approach was pleasant, and as each day passed I grew more and more confident with the decision that I had made. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I could not shake the harsh words of Cullen before I left. I could not forget the pure hatred in his eyes as he told me we were over. What scared me more was the fact that it left me feeling cold and empty rather than distraught and overwhelmed. Unnerved by the lack of emotion, I rode harder and more determinedly towards Adamant Fortress. Of course my companions did make me feel better, especially Michel de Chevin. The ex-chevalier would often ride beside me as we had done in former days, pointing out certain trees and animals along the way. A fennec here and a gurn there, Michel even pointed out what he claimed were dragon footprints in the sand. I found so much comfort in just hearing his voice, merrily chatting away, that even the less than riveting facts about the rare witherstalk seemed fascinating coming from the mouth of the ex-chevalier.

Riding hard, we managed to reach the Western Approach within a few days. Michel’s demeanour grew somewhat less jovial as we drew closer to The Griffon Wing Keep and Adamant Fortress. It was apparent that he was not impressed to be back in the place he been residing in for the last few months. Looking around at the vast emptiness of the place, I could see why there was a lack of fondness from the man who loved nature. For here in the Western Approach there was a distinct lack of it to behold, with not a tree in sight apart from a dry desert bush scattered here and there. I also found myself in solemn spirits, for Adamant Fortress held unpleasant memories. Every now and then I found myself throwing an uneasy eye towards a particularly glum Varric, who was also growing quieter by the moment. Even Blackwall to my surprise seemed agitated in arriving at our destination, when I expected him to take delight in soon seeing his fellow Grey Wardens.

Making our way to the gates of Adamant Fortress, we were greeted by a group of Grey Wardens who waved to us from the battlements above. We entered through the gates; the froth of the horse’s mouths spitting in heavy breaths, our tired aching bodies overheated from the harsh desert sun. Finally ending our journey in the courtyard, we were relieved of our steeds and welcomed into the main hall.

The walls, columns and high ceilings were all carved in black onyx, and I recalled passing it by in whirlwind of chaos when fighting enemies in previous days when the Inquisition came to rescue the Grey Wardens from their impending doom. The silence of the hall was almost deafening and unbearable as we counted the moments until the negotiations would commence. Finally we heard someone enter in through a side door.

Walking towards us with a confident stride, the Warden-Commander approached with us with a smile.

‘Inquisitor, this is a pleasant surprise! It is so good to see you once more!’ remarked Alistair happily, reaching out to shake my hand ‘We did not know you were planning a visit, I would have got some fiddles and lutes to play on your arrival or whatever they do when the Inquisitor is in town.’

Chuckling at the man’s comment, I waved my hand ‘Oh no I don’t expect much, just a gold statue of me created in my honour, nothing fancy.’

Alistair snapped his fingers in annoyance ‘And just when we are fresh out of gold. How about sand? We have a lot of that. Every day is like a day at the beach here, well except for the fun and the splashing about I guess.’

A woman followed close behind and stood slightly to the left of Alistair, dressed in the armour of the Grey Wardens. She had deep red hair that fell to her shoulders and pale grey eyes, her features refined yet almost to a point of harshness rather than elegance. Noticing my eyes fixated on the woman, Alistair presented his hand to her.

‘Oh forgive me, Inquisitor may I introduce Sierra Amell. Grey Warden and Hero of Ferelden. Sierra, this is Ophelia Trevelyan. The Inquisitor of the Inquisition.’

My heart began beating fast as I beheld the woman before me. A person I had never met yet disliked with a burning passion. Sierra Amell. Cullen’s first love.

Pursing my lips, I threw a nod to the woman ‘Well met Sierra.’

Alistair clapped his hands together, grinning at the smiling ex-chevalier beside me ‘Now here is a face that has been sorely missed!’

Michel chuckled, extending his palm to warmly shake Alistair’s hand ‘Alistair, it is good to see you again!’

‘Rylen’s ready for that duel, I’d steer clear of the keep if I was you.’ remarked Alistair cheerfully ‘You should see how hard he has been working in the training of those templars, you wouldn’t for a moment have thought he’d been injured in his entire life!’

Turning quickly back to my party I added ‘Alistair this is Solas, an exceptional mage of ours who has been aiding the Inquisition. And Dorian Pavus, another brilliant mage at Skyhold. Oh and this here is a fellow Grey Warden, Gordon Blackwall.’. Turning, I frowned ‘And we seem to be missing two of our party members?’

Solas softly coughed, drawing my attention back to the main doors that were being pushed open. Loud footsteps came rushing up the hall as Varric approached. ‘Sorry about that,’ he remarked breathlessly ‘just attending to some business.’

Throwing him a smile, more for our guests benefit than for the dwarf, I muttered under my breath ‘Should I be worried that you only encouraged our current mission because you had business here? A book deal perhaps?’

Varric chuckled, whispering back ‘Now now, I was merely being helpful. Athalwolf is tending to an injured warden that just came through the gates. I was aiding the man.’. Looking ahead, Varric’s eyes lit up ‘Hey I remember you! You were with Hawke’s brother, Carver! Remember how we bumped into you Grey Wardens when we were fighting all those abominations in Kirkwall. Fun times eh?’

‘Ah yes that’s right, sorry about not sticking around to help more.’ replied Alistair with a frown ‘It was a rather largish conflict of interest, speaking in official terms. Actually truth be told my hands were tied by my superior at the time. You know, Grey Wardens not being allowed to get involved in other’s politics.’

‘Well heck this is going to be awkward as hell then!’ chuckled Varric, clapping his hands in delight ‘Ophelia, do you want to take it from here?’

‘Thank you Varric.’ I replied sharply ‘Remind me to fill your boots with lead the next time we go for a swim.’

‘I fear we come with a request that may seem odd, considering our last encounter here.’ informed Michel seriously.

‘I admit I was surprised to learn the Inquisitor was coming here on, well, no notice.’ exclaimed Alistair ‘I mean not in an unpleasant way, naturally. Just in a, oh no something very bad is about to happen, sort of way.’. The Warden-Commander chuckled before growing quiet when he noticed all the solemn faces looking at him. ‘Oh Maker,’ he sighed ‘please don’t say it involves anything that swoops.’

‘Has the Inquisition got more favours to ask of us then?’ remarked Sierra dryly, crossing her arms in disapproval ‘We weren’t aware there were so many conditions attached to your goodwill towards our Order?’

‘Now, now my dear why don’t we hear them out first?’ chuckled Alistair uneasily ‘You know, before we attack them with snide remarks? You forget the Inquisition are our friends. Those lovely little people that saved us from that awkward little matter of raising a demon army.’

Casting a cold look away from Sierra, I smiled at Alistair ‘We come not asking a favour, rather than retracting one we previously requested. We have come here to advise the templars that the Inquisition will not be aiding them in rebuilding their Order. Instead we offer them a place with the other soldiers of the Inquisition.’

The surprised look of Warden-Commander Alistair was interrupted by the sound of the main hall doors opening again, the footsteps of another person walking hurriedly up the hall.

‘My apologies,’ called out Athalwolf ‘one of the Grey Wardens was injured by a wyvern. Not to worry he is fine, I managed to patch his wound rather well.’. Smiling at us, he looked ahead to Alistair and paused in surprise. ‘Daggers?’ whispered Athalwolf as he caught sight Sierra.

Sierra narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m…sorry?’ she hesitated ‘I do not believe that we have met?’

The mage grew a deathly white shade, turning his face away before looking back with a transformed smile. ‘Oh forgive me,’ he dismissed light-heartedly ‘for a moment there I thought you were someone I knew. My mistake.’

‘This is Athalwolf Guildersleeve.’ I introduced ‘He has been in charge of the mages at Skyhold and doing a remarkable job so far. In fact this is the man who created the spell to release the Red Templars.’

‘Well all I’ll say is that is one handy party trick.’ grinned Alistair, reaching over to shake Athalwolf’s hand.

‘Thank you Warden-Commander.’ murmured Athalwolf, returning the shake before retreating to the back of our party.

With a nervous laugh, Alistair turned his attention back to me ‘Uhhh…I suspect I won’t have been the first to tell you that this is going to be awkward. As in, oh look someone has stepped in a rather large pile of orc droppings and traipsed all over the Fortress kind of awkward.’

Varric chuckled. ‘I am liking this guy more and more.’ he whispered to me.

‘Warden-Commander Alistair, all I can say is I am deeply sorry for wasting the Grey Warden’s time.’ I apologised ‘Sometimes there are moments when matters slip away from being addressed properly and this was one of those unfortunate occasions. As Inquisitor, I do not believe reinstating the Templar Order here in Adamant is a proper use of Inquisition resources. We must respectfully thank you for your offer of help to our cause, but now withdraw the request. Any rescued templars are to return to Skyhold or the Griffon Wing Keep as soldiers, should they wish to aid the Inquisition.’

‘Cullen and Leliana were quite…oh I don’t know, determined about restoring the order.’ remarked Alistair.

‘At the end of the day I am Inquisitor and had to make a difficult decision.’ I replied sagely ‘They are aware of this.’

‘How is Cullen?’ added Sierra, a hint of mocking in her voice.

‘The Commander is in good health.’ I replied shortly, turning back to Alistair before I succumbed to my desire to cast a flame ball into the woman’s face. ‘I will need to address the templars as soon as possible, if you could arrange for them to gather in the hall perhaps?’

Alistair shrugged ‘Well most of them are away with Commander Rylen, training at Nazaire’s Pass. I could organise a gathering tomorrow at midday?’

‘That would be most appreciated, thank you Alistair.’ I replied.

Clapping his hands, Alistair grinned ‘Come, you must all be exhausted after that travel. Let us get you all settled in. Well let’s face it, you’re going to need a good rest before breaking the news to those templars. Between you and me, they’re a feisty bunch, bless them!’

****

Midnight had just passed as Jowan returned to his room from dinner in the great hall. Securing the lock on his chambers, the mage ran his hands shakily across his robes, pulling them off as he settled in his room in Adamant Fortress. Dinner was difficult to digest between the fake smiles and laughs, his eyes refusing to wander over to the woman by Alistair’s side. A foolish mistake made in the heat of the moment was all that it took for a web of lies to unravel. The mage needed to be more careful.

Drawing a pitcher of water, he poured a large cup and gulped it down to the last drop. Sighing, he returned to continue undressing himself for bed, slipping off the robe to reveal his white chest and thin frame covered only by black pants.

‘It’s strange.’ remarked a voice from behind the dressing screen.

Jowan’s body tensed in fright as his eyes darted towards the screen, where he saw Sierra Amell emerge.

With wide eyes, the mage look terrified more than surprised. ‘I beg your pardon my lady, but I think you have accidentally found yourself in the wrong room.’ observed Jowan, a hint of a tremor in his voice.

Sierra smiled, running her eyes around the room in amusement ‘No I am right where I am supposed to be.’

‘What is strange then?’ asked Jowan hesitantly, his eyes narrowing in on the smirking woman before him.

‘Daggers.’ she replied smugly ‘You called me that in the great hall before. It’s strange because only two people in all of Thedas used to called me that, and one ran away from the Ferelden Circle Tower about eleven years ago.’

‘I thought you were someone else.’ muttered Jowan, growing peakier by the second as he turned away to his pack, shuffling through some items before locating a shirt. Pulling it over his chest, he turned back to Sierra ‘Surely there is more than one person with the nickname Daggers out there in Thedas? It was a mistake and nothing more.’

‘I know it is you, Jowan.’ whispered Sierra, approaching him in fascination as her pale grey eyes looked over him. She gently touched his arm as if it were not real ‘I am only in awe at the transformation you have taken. This is no ordinary magic, or even basic blood magic for that matter.’

Jowan shivered as she continued to focus her attention hard upon him, taking in every part of his body.

Finally Sierra bit her lip with a grin ‘It’s not even an illusion, is it? You are actually in the body of another person? Like a demon would do? That is remarkable.’. Jowan gasped as the red haired woman flung her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace ‘I have missed you, my friend.’. Nestling her head in the crook of his neck, she breathed in deeply. ‘You even smell like Jowan.’ she murmured fondly.

‘Sierra…you cannot tell anyone who I am.’ whispered Jowan fearfully ‘They would kill me if they knew.’

Pulling away from her embrace, she cast a frown ‘Why are you pretending to be a mage named Athalwolf Guildersleeve? Working under the guidance of that annoying titter of a mage out there? More to the point, why are you working with Cullen of all people? A templar from our own prison? I know you better than to have lost your senses, so I believe you are plotting something greater. Perhaps even terrible?’. She grinned ‘Do tell, I am dying to know!’

Jowan turned away sombrely. ‘Many things have changed since those darker days when you knew me once.’ he muttered.

Sierra laughed ‘Oh of course all must have been forgiven by now, how silly of me? That trifling matter of the orders written to make you tranquil in the tower at the Kinloch Hold. Or of Lily being sent to Aeonar. Small matters swept under the rug I imagine?’

With a jaw clenched, Jowan silently fumed at the woman before him. ‘Neither of those memories have ever left my mind since they had occurred,’ he scorned ‘yet there would be ways to ensure history does not repeat itself. I am not all about vengeance and hate as I once was, there are greater causes at play now.’

‘Such as disbanding the Templar Order?’ suggested Sierra in amusement ‘No nothing vengeful there. Oh Jowan, you must realise this is not going to make one jot of difference? Do you really think the templars will roll over if you tell them to? What do mages like us care anyway? I’ll deal with a templar any day of the week, let them have a taste of my blood magic and see them run away with their tails between their legs.’

‘What about The Grey Wardens?’ asked Jowan irritably ‘You were lucky enough to be recruited into a group that is making a difference in the realm. You were given a purpose Sierra, and look where you have come from such a good cause. I would have killed for that kind of opportunity. Instead I fled the Redcliffe dungeons when you set me free and have been on the run for over a decade! Now is my chance to do something better with the Inquisition.’

‘The Grey Wardens are a good cause? You envy me for being apart of that joke of an order?!!’ replied Sierra in disgust ‘I fucking hate the Grey Wardens with every ounce of my being. I would have been better off left in the tower and taken my chances with Uldred.’

Jowan shook his head ‘What is so reprehensible about an Order of warriors that protect the people using the talents of blade and arcane side by side?’

The woman hissed at the comment, fuming beyond words. ‘You sound like one of our fucking ballads,’ scathed Sierra ‘delusionally romanticising the Order to the point where you want to throw up. Why do you think I have been away from the Wardens for so long? This oh-so wonderful Grey Warden Order is a fucking death sentence, that is why. You join and you sign your shitty life away, it is as simple as that.’

‘Everyone faces that mortal chance when they join a cause.’ muttered Jowan.

Sierra laughed, shaking her head in reproach. ‘You know nothing about the terrible little secret the Grey Wardens keep from their initiates and other non-wardens?’

Jowan frowned, apparently clueless.

‘Let me enlighten you then.’ continued Sierra ‘The Grey Wardens recruit and tell you how important you will become to Thedas, honour bound and all that other bullshit people generally want to be apart of. Then Jowan, then, when you agree to partake in the Joining Ceremony you find out it is actually some primitive blood ritual where only some people survive depending on whether your body accepts the taint of the blood of the darkspawn you have drunk. When I joined, there was a man with a pregnant wife waiting for him back home. He could not fathom taking the chance of dying during the initiation and leaving her a widow and his child fatherless. So he pleaded to leave and not partake in the ceremony. Begged for his life. Begged. Do you know what the Grey Warden who was in charge did? He ran a fucking blade through him before our very eyes. I was made to join with a blade at my back, and the other two initiates with me died that day. That is the sort of people you are dealing with in this wonderful order.’

‘You are made to drink darkspawn blood?’ remarked a disgusted Jowan.

‘That is not the worst of it.’ scorned Sierra ‘If you are unfortunate enough to survive the initiation, you are told afterwards that you have at best about twenty years or so ahead of you before you hear the Calling.’

‘That is what Corypheus used against the Grey Wardens.’ remarked Jowan ‘I did not think it happened to every Warden.’

Sierra chuckled bitterly ‘Well surprise my friend, it does. If the darkspawn don’t kill you, you end up being mentally tortured with the Calling until you make the journey to the Deep Roads. Then something in you is compelled to fight darkspawn until you are run through with a blade. Every warden is faced with that fate. Fuck the Grey Wardens.’

Jowan sat down on the edge of his bed, shocked at the revelation of his friend. ‘So they treated you like a pawn in their game? I am sorry Daggers, I had no idea.’

‘I’ve been researching with Charles Quillor in Vyrantium, trying to find a way to remove the taint from my blood so I won’t hear the calling and die a premature death.’ informed Sierra, sitting beside her friend.

‘Charles?’ remarked Jowan in surprise ‘The maleficar originally from Lothering?’

‘Still living happily in the Tevinter Imperium, yes the very one.’ replied Sierra ‘He had many great things to say about you when I was there. I never knew you went all the way to Vyrantium after you fled Ferelden?’

‘Well no, Charles was living in the Planasene Forest in the Free Marches at the time we met.’ replied Jowan ‘I desperately needed someone who could help me improve my skills as a maleficar so I could survive if the templars caught up with me. I heard whispers of a maleficar living in the forest north of the Waking Sea, and I finally located him and begged him to aid me. Charles was exceptionally kind to take me in the way he did. He was a brilliant mentor, possessing skills I had never seen and most likely never will again.’

‘Time will tell.’ muttered Sierra ‘I am to return soon to see if this latest poultice we have created will work.’

‘What if it doesn’t?’ asked Jowan ‘What will you do then?’

‘What I have been doing since the Blight ended, keep looking for a cure.’ muttered Sierra, raising her head to reveal a dangerous light in her eyes ‘And then I will destroy the Grey Wardens so no one from that sadistic group can continue inflicting misery onto others. No order has the right to take the life of all their initiates without their consent. I will see the whole fucking Order destroyed and then piss on their ashes.’

‘And what if another Blight comes?’ asked Jowan cynically ‘Who is going to deal with that slight problem?’

Sierra scoffed ‘Hardly a question I’d expect from a fellow maleficar. You know demons could aid in that.’

‘I would love to hear you propose that as a replacement to the Grey Wardens.’ chortled Jowan ‘Thedas will admire you as much as templars admire the mages.’

‘Charles mentioned that you showed a great interest in working with demons.’ added Sierra with a raised eyebrow ‘He said you did it exceptionally well.’

Jowan sighed ‘In former days, yes it was of great interest to me.’

‘Why are you pretending to be a mage called Athalwolf Guildersleeve?’ asked Sierra once again ‘You will tell me the truth or I will tell your friends the truth about you.’

Jowan drew a shaky hand to pour himself a chalice of wine, taking several sips until he drained the entire cup. Wiping the red droplets lingering on his lips, he commenced to pour another. ‘Initially I wanted to destroy the Inquisition.’ he replied darkly.

‘Seriously?!’ replied Sierra, a titter escaping her lips in amusement.

The mage cast his black eyes on his companion ‘A woman named Josephine Montilyet, who was working on the council of the Inquisition, came to me. She was obsessed with Cullen, and required my skills in aiding her with a few matters. Having a powerful contact within the Inquisition, I saw an opportunity to gain the upper hand and win favour with Corypheus.’

‘Why in the world would you want to side with that fool?’ Sierra frowned.

‘I wanted to be on the side that had control over the templars,’ explained Jowan ‘and that was with Corypheus. Gaining his trust and destroying the Inquisition would have given me all the power I needed to turn around and destroy the templars at the end of the day. I was going to exchange information for a position in his army. However by the time I reached Skyhold I never made contact, and the whole plan fell apart. My plans have somewhat…changed now.’

‘Indeed!’ mused Sierra ‘I suppose you didn’t expect your Inquisitor to have the same chaotic goals as yourself. My you both do have a lot in common. Yet what power do you gain serving as a mage under her rule?’

Jowan sighed, draining his cup once more before looking up to his friend ‘Daggers, they do good work there. Ophelia is securing the freedom of mages, and disbanding the Templar Order…in addition to trying to save Thedas from Corypheus! They treat the mages with respect at Skyhold, you should see it. It is nothing like how we lived in the Kinloch Hold. I was blinded by hate for so many years, and all I wanted to do was hurt everyone around me. At Skyhold, for the first time, I saw the good being done. I began to help mages and other people…what can I say, it grew on me.’

‘So you would work with the man who worked under Knight-Commander Greagoir. The one who sentenced Lily to be taken away to Aeonar?’ scorned Sierra ‘Are you taking orders from Cullen just like in the good old days?’

‘What do you think?’ snapped Jowan ‘Cullen has become a terrible threat to us mages. Ophelia says he wants us all back in the towers. He looked me in the eye and took delight in the fact that…that Lily was tortured and finally killed there.’

Drawing her hand to her mouth, Sierra looked shocked at the fact. ‘I did not know that Lily died in that prison.’ murmured Sierra ‘That is truly...I am sorry Jowan.’

Jowan ran his hands through his black hair, his fingers catching through the curls. Laughing bitterly, he pulled in frustration at his hair ‘I keep forgetting I have curly hair now, not straight and thin. Curly. Do you really think I want this?’

‘Curly hair?’ asked Sierra with a smirk.

Throwing a dark look, Jowan was not amused ‘Lily wasn’t even a mage and look what the templar’s did to her. No one will escape their terror. If Ophelia Trevelyan seeks to disband them, I will stand behind her until the very end. Do not reveal my true identity. You must swear it Sierra.’

Sierra shrugged ‘Maybe I do, maybe I don’t? If I tell the Inquisition they are unwittingly harbouring a maleficar then maybe I gain a little more trust and a little more influence in their ranks? Maybe it helps my cause better that way?’

‘To what end?’ scoffed Jowan ‘To disband the Grey Wardens? It was the Inquisition who saved them and told them to stay and rebuild themselves.’

‘Maybe I intend to blacken the Inquisition’s name a little?’ responded Sierra ‘Make Thedas see that the Inquisition causes more harm than good?’

‘I won’t let you destroy the Inquisition.’ replied Jowan dangerously ‘They are the only reason mages are free.’

Sierra shrugged ‘As you wish. Maybe you can help me do something else instead…while I continue my search for a cure to this taint. Maybe then I will swear to say nothing at all?’

‘Maybe I do nothing because no one threatens me, friend or foe.’ replied Jowan sharply ‘Do not test me Sierra, we both know it is unwise.’

‘By the looks of your sad little party, Ophelia is going to need a powerful mage by her side to support her.’ observed Sierra ‘How long do you think she will be able to stand up against Leliana and Cullen back in Skyhold if they find out her head mage was actually a maleficar?’

‘What could I possibly do to aid your cause?’ asked Jowan dryly.

‘It’s quite simple really.’ remarked Sierra, a cruel smile on her face ‘You are going to help me ensure the murder of the next Divine takes place. A Grey Warden blade in the heart of both contenders, both destined for greatness and yet both will only succumb to an untimely death. A death not at the hand of their precious Maker. It is rather poetical, is it not?’

‘What in the world are you talking about?’ asked a baffled Jowan ‘What Divine? Why would they be at Skyhold?’

‘They are both on your council, Jowan.’ chuckled Sierra ‘I have had word that Leliana and Cassandra Pentaghast, the former left and right hand of Divine Justinia are now contenders to become the next Divine. I want to send out a message that the Grey Wardens personally seek war against the Chantry in the most personal of attacks. You are going to finish the job it seems I never quite finished…and a little bit more.’

‘You want the Chantry to start a war with the Grey Wardens?’ remarked Jowan in surprise.

Grinning, Sierra laid back on the bed and folded her arms behind her head ‘They have more power and standing across Thedas than any other group, they will not stop until the Grey Wardens are nothing but dust in the wind.’

‘The Grey Wardens will refuse they played any part in the murder of the prospective Divines if the Chantry accuses them.’ rebutted Jowan ‘Even if the Wardens did want Leliana and Cassandra dead to make a point, no one would be that stupid to leave all evidence pointing to them?’

‘Unless they wanted to make a point.’ replied Sierra ‘Who do you think we went to for aid when the Grey Wardens all began hearing the calling at the same time? The chantry, Jowan. We desperately pleaded for help, for more aid in fighting the darkspawn in the Deep Roads. The Chantry refused, dismissing us as an archaic Order no longer needed to exist at all. They were happy for us all to die. That is all the ammunition we need for retribution and the Chantry knows it. The deaths of their intended Divines will be sufficient fuel to cause a war between the Chantry and the Grey Wardens.’

Jowan lay back next to Sierra, a small smile forming on his lips ‘And the templars will no doubt go to the aid of the Chantry…and many will be murdered in a war against the Wardens.’

‘And so your wee trouble with the Templar Order rebuilding itself and gaining a foothold in the future becomes less likely when their attention and numbers are pulled away from the mages. We both win, lovely is it not?’ smiled Sierra.

‘You speak as if murdering Skyhold’s Spymaster and Seeker are easy feats.’ muttered Jowan ‘It is not like I can bribe a cook to poison their food. This will be extremely difficult to perform.’

‘Jowan you are the most talented maleficar I know, aside from myself perhaps.’ jeered Sierra ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way. I know you can.’

The mage suddenly rolled over onto the Grey Warden, swift as darkness itself, causing her to stiffen slightly as he pinned her down. Jowan glared down at her, his eyes drawing coldly to hers. ‘If I do this,’ he whispered dangerously in her ear ‘are you going to come back asking for more favours lest my secret be revealed?’

‘You have my word.’ replied Sierra seriously ‘Just this one favour, nothing else.’

Jowan ran a finger across his lips, a smile on his face ‘There is promise to your plan, I grant you that. Yet if you cross me Sierra, you will not have to worry about finding a cure to save your life. Or your Warden-Commander’s out there.’

Sierra grinned, a titter escaping from her lips as she watched the mage move off her ‘Oh how I missed you Jowan. Here I am surrounded by Grey Wardens for over a decade, yet you were the only one I ever knew with a little back bone. You have my word, do this and there will be no more favours. I swear on my life. And do what you want with Alistair’s, if that makes you happy.’

‘You need to leave soon, and hope for your sake no one saw you come in here.’ muttered Jowan ‘We shall communicate only in the cave, I can show you how to transport there when needed.’

Sierra looked confused ‘Cave? I understand the need for extreme secrecy but if you expect me to traipse into some bog ridden- ’

‘A demon guided me to the place.’ interrupted Jowan, a smirk on his face as his companion began to understand what he was saying.

Sierra chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief ‘You finally found a way to travel to The Nephilim Realm. The one place you ever sought since we were children. You used to call it your mouse hole tucked away in a labyrinth of shadows.’

Jowan chuckled, amused at his friend’s sharp memory.

‘A mere fantasy amongst the scholars, dismissed as a metaphor rather than an actual place.’ observed Jowan with a smirk ‘Yet there it is.’. Turning to the fire, he threw another log onto the fire. ‘Come, we do not have much time and this ritual is something you will find very difficult to learn.’

The hours passed by while the residents of Adamant Fortress slumbered in blissful rest. None were the wiser that a member of the Grey Wardens and a member of the Inquisition had reunited, busy practicing blood magic under the guise of night as they had done in times long gone, all those many years ago in the tainted rooms of the Ferelden Circle Tower.


	38. The Holy Sacrament

Hundreds of flickering candles lit up the Chantry room of worship, their light dancing in pools of molten wax bringing a warm glow in the darkness of night. Outside the stained glass window, the milky moon was covered in inky clouds, its glow concealed and casting a web of shadow onto the realm. Candlelight was the only salvation from the otherwise black abyss. Faith was the only redemption from the darkness outside and within.

Before the great statue of Andraste at the head of the room, his body worshiped the ground at her feet. A cold stone slab offered to those who would kneel before the Maker’s chosen one. Yet he did not kneel before her. No. He lay before her, stripped of the trappings that made the faithful forget their beliefs. In a ritual of bare flesh, Cullen offered himself whole and complete in his raw perfection.

The flames radiated a luminous glow on his naked skin as he looked up at the ceiling, his back pressed flat on the unforgiving roughness of the floor of the temple. Running his fingers along his torso, the sweet almond oil melted into his skin and glistening like wet leather. The heat of the fire near his skin, the burning passion under his skin, and the ice cold stones beneath his back sent shivers across his naked body. A blessed ritual; the rite of offering his holy, carnal devotion.

More oil was poured from above, falling onto the hard mushroom head of his erect cock. Cullen groaned as his hands wrapped around his thick and meaty member, sliding up and down his shaft in long and slow slippery strokes. Hands pressed hard against his cock, his was a divine and ambrosial prayer.

Up and down, the rhythmic pace was almost melodic in itself, a blessed hymn devoted to Andraste herself. The ex-templar’s breathing was heavy, filling his belly deep as he rubbed harder and harder, his back arching in a curved stretch as he continued to assault the hard dick between his strong hands.

Cullen’s broad chest glistened with oil as it expanded and contracted, heavy breaths as he moaned lowly, the slickness of his greased cock making a squish squish squish sound as he pumped away. He offered himself willingly and without shame, thrusting his pelvis up to reveal his mighty mast high cock, hard and erect. Andraste’s eyes gazed down upon him and he looked into hers, massaging his dick with a chant of breathless cries coming from his lips.

Cullen suddenly drew a short breath as he felt the rope around his neck slowly tighten, and his pace increased, furious now as he stroked his cock. Every now and then he cried out, pleasurable sounds escaping his lips. That firm pressure on his throat that sent his dick into jolts of pure ecstasy.

‘Please.’ he begged, stroking his wet dick harder and harder as the rope pulled tighter and tighter around his neck ‘Let me come. I need to come.’

‘Not until I say so.’ smouldered a stern yet sultry voice, pulling the rope tighter around the Commander’s neck as he flogged away ruthlessly.

Crimson in the face and writhing on the stones, the muscles in Cullen’s body tensed and contracted as he tried to hold on. His arse cheeks clenched against the stone, his stomach grew tight, and the muscles in his arms and thighs turned hard as iron as he felt more oil pour over his cock. At the mercy of his Mistress, he could only lie in wait and continue to assault himself under her watchful gaze. He could feel the oil stream onto his thighs, over his cock once more and up onto his chest, sliding all over his anguished body. Cullen began to stroke his cock with both hands in a slippery mess of euphoria, desperately trying to hold on.

A wicked curl on the woman’s face, she bit her lip in approval as she watched the man in blissful agony as she controlled his pleasure and his pain at the mere command of her voice.

‘That’s the way, keep on riding it.’ she encouraged, pouring more oil over the bulbous purple head of Cullen’s cock. He stroked himself savagely, now with his eyes rolled back in his head ‘Stroke it a little more. Harder Cullen, harder. Faster now!’

Cullen groaned in agony as he continued to pleasure himself.

‘You must want to explode,’ she cooed ‘I can see your prick bulging in torment...just begging to swell and release itself. Let that anguish and discomfort mix with your lust. Let it fill you.’

The ex-templar growled deep in his chest, squirming in anguish as he breathed a series of low grunts and continued to slap away at his huge phallus.

She could see it was too much for him to handle, that now he had crossed that line and would be feeling only pain in denying himself to perform the one primal thing that needed to be done.

‘Are you in anguish, Cullen?’ she asked.

‘Yes Mistress.’ he moaned.

‘What do you want to do?’ she demanded.

‘I want to come for you.’ he grimaced.

‘No, I asked you what you want to do?’ she ordered sharply.

‘I want to ejaculate all over my stomach.’ he cried out ‘Please let me desecrate myself for you Mistress.’

‘Then come.’ she commanded sternly, pulling the rope with a severe pull and watching it squeeze around the Commander’s broad neck, causing several veins to bulge. She adored the way his body tremored as he felt the strangulation combined with his release. A sadistic moment in time she wished she could remain in and experience for eternity.

Cullen cried out, his voice ringing in the temple as he erupted. The sticky white spurts of ejaculate spewed forth from the slit of his prick, over and over again onto his stomach and chest, ropes of splendour adding to the glistening spectacle of his oiled abs.

When the Commander was finally spent, his member squeezed of its last drop, she loosened her hold on the rope and the man gasped his first full breath of air, reborn and cleansed.

His breaths finally grew slower and slower, an immense smile on his lips as he finally opened his eyes. Soft amber eyes that locked onto his companion’s…and suddenly transformed into something more sinister. A satisfied smile now transforming into one of perversity.

‘Clean me up.’ he ordered sternly, lowering his gaze to his stomach and then back to his companion ‘Now.’

Fully dressed in tight black leather armour, she fell to her hands and knees. On all fours, she moved with a cat-like grace to Cullen’s torso. Flashing her green eyes to the Commander, she grinned wickedly.

‘Yes Master.’ purred Leliana, before bending her head forward.

Her pink tongue lapped at Cullen’s torso as the ex-templar propped himself up on his elbows to watch the woman lick his sticky cream. With long strokes of her tongue, the salty white liquid filled her mouth as Leliana devoured every last drop from Cullen’s stomach and chest. Her tongue swirled the pool of semen that has formed in his belly button, and slid down the side of his waist onto the stones. Cullen shivered, eyes fixated on the ravishment of his body. Her soft lips planting across his abdomen, opening over and over again to reveal a hot tongue that licked him clean. Finally Leliana finished, withdrawing her head with a satisfied smile.

‘Good girl.’ murmured Cullen as he sat up, cupping his hands to Leliana’s face and drawing her to him.

‘Good boy.’ responded Leliana back with a devilish smile.

Moving her lips to the ex-templar’s, she kissed him deeply with her warm and well wet tongue, both of them enjoying the final taste of the holy sacrament.


	39. The Tower

_Trapped creatures in stone, hideous faces grotesque,_

_Adulation from the flock. Guardians of piety._

_Watchful from afar, cleansed in pure white flame,_

_Drink deep from the blessed chalice. Have the faith of a child._

_Tainted blood on my hands mirrors the tainted blood on yours,_

_The blood tainted in their veins. Unlike the blood tainted in yours._

_Dreams dreamt were lived by others, in perfect worlds mine did crumble._

_The faithful held the coldest hearts. I remained untouched._

_I have a soul and a name, yet all you see is what I am,_

_Were you me and I were you, we’d see what’s what and who is who._

_Strike a chord, run a blade. Beg you forgive me, beg you to see._

_Some things in this life were not meant to be._

Although deprived of the freedom others took for granted, I was lucky enough to have obtained a good education from the years spent in the Ostwick Circle. In the Circle Towers mages were taught not only to read and write, but to become great academics. While many of the people of Thedas were illiterate but free, we mages were a group imprisoned in the flesh but liberated in the mind. And there was power in knowledge, something perhaps our captors naively overlooked while they upheld brawn over brains.

So while the templars stood ever watchful with a hand ready on cold steel, knowledge came to us through the experience of others written out in the pages of the tomes in the library. That is where we lived and that is where we grew and transformed. The words of others were our eyes into an otherwise unseen realm. Silently we mastered our intellect for when the time was right we all knew the mages were going to be a force to be reckoned with.

Unfortunately my lack of experience in the world never made me a good candidate to lead. Truth be told I was unable to remove a rat with a broom from the mages quarters, let alone rule over an entire army. Yet being in the wrong place at the wrong time seemed somewhat of a speciality of mine, and before I knew it I was being called The Herald of Andraste and then even worse, The Inquisitor. A lot of advice was thrown my way, like vegetable scraps hurled at a peasant in the stocks in the village square. Information on pressing issues was gratuitously bestowed, and yet all seemed to brush over the most important matter. How to be a leader. Floundering about in my new role, I was surprised to find the best advice I ever received on the matter was from a dock worker at The Hanged Man. Dryn Na’Druist.

At the time Dryn had no idea I was the Inquisitor. All he knew was I was a mage on the run who had taken to petty thievery to make a coin or two in order to maintain the grandiose lifestyle I was accustomed to; drinking the stale house ale and trying to forget my former days. We shared little details about our pasts, as most did in the run-down tired tavern of Kirkwall. It was an unwritten rule that all followed, for the less you knew about a person the less trouble came knocking at both your doors. Yet Dryn had mentioned one night after one too many whiskeys that he had sailed for a time with the crew of Jason Kirk, Pirate Captain of The Tempest.

The Tempest, an Antivan frigate, was best known for being the only warship of the Antivan Empire successfully stolen from under the crown’s nose on the waters of Rialto Bay by Jason Kirk and his pirates. Infamous for robbing rich merchant ships along the Nocen Sea off the Tevinter Imperium, The Tempest was rumoured to have stolen a kingdoms worth of gold. Their control over the Northern Passage and influence in the surrounding areas was so strong that not even the Antivan Crows dared cross Captain Jason in the end, and the monarchy eventually threw up their hands and accepted their ship was never returning to the docks of Treviso.

Somewhat in awe of Dryn’s time as a pirate on such an infamous ship, I was eager to learn about the notorious Captain Jason Kirk and the adventures Dryn had on the sea. Dryn soon set me on the straight and narrow with a cynical laugh, downing another shot of whisky with a hardened face. It was a face that told me some stories were best left untold, and some memories were too painful to think back upon. Despite this Dryn did tell me one thing that he did witness aboard The Tempest. What is was like to be a pirate captain, something every child in any port town dreamt of becoming when they grew up.

While the crew spent most days rigging, swabbing, navigating, drinking and playing cards as they waited for the sails to catch wind or a potential victim to pass their way, there was one man who held his cards close to his chest. Pirate Captain Jason Kirk. Unlike a royal or merchant ship’s captain who held authority on title alone, a pirate captain’s rule was a more complex affair. To rule as a pirate captain meant you could never be one of them, for a pirate captain had to hold the respect of his crew and ensure no one could get too close. Indeed a pirate captain had to appear almost mythical, not real and yet human all at the same time. To make decisions when others would quarrel and argue, determining outcomes that many would approve and many would not. To know that sometimes terrible measures would be required in order to prevent mutiny, for showing the slightest kindness on a ruthless crew could mean the difference between remaining in your Captain’s quarters or ending up with a knife in your gullet at the bottom of the ocean. To be a pirate captain was a role that dazzled the eyes of others, yet could blind the leader if they were not careful. To lead you had to remain tougher than nails, with your eyes wide open, and have your wits about you at all times. That was the price for greatness, and it was a hefty pouch of clink to pay.

Pirate Captain or Inquisitor, it mattered not. The advice rang true.

A roar sounded across the Greenstone Hall in Adamant Fortress, enraged shouts and cries of protest from the large crowd gathered. The smell of weathered steel, sweat and dirt filled the air as the templars banded together. Disgruntled shifting and a few hands on hilts, the atmosphere of the room was heavy and tense, a sea of furious eyes glaring towards the proposition I had just placed at their feet. Behind me, etched into the wall in brilliant gold cursive were the words; In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. Like a shining beacon, only one word stood out to me.

Peace.

Perhaps the Grey Wardens held that notion in high esteem, but there was a reason the Templar Order were so respected and feared amongst the people of Thedas and it had nothing to do with peace.

‘Silence.’ yelled out Commander Rylen, throwing his attention sternly across the room as the men and women settled down ‘I am sure the Inquisitor will explain this sudden change of heart with reason to support it.’. Rylen turned to me at the head of the room, his eyes somewhat appealing to me ‘You cannot be surprised by their reaction. We were all here the other week when Commander Cullen welcomed the templars to your cause and assured us we could rebuild here in Adamant Fortress. Why have you come to this decision now?’

Sitting on the throne chair, I looked around the hall with a calmness that even I found unnerving. A hoard of livid templars stood before me, and all I could do was state my cause with as much diplomacy and tact as I could muster. Remarkably I was succeeding in doing so, despite the sticky palms within my gloves and an occasional look for reassurance towards Athalwolf and Michel de Chevin. Thinking it wise to bring one mage and one warrior from the Inquisition to stand on either side of me, I was hoping the symbolic gesture would show the templars how we could all work side by side. However from the crowd’s response thus far, I feared my metaphor of unity has been lost somewhere along the way.

‘I understand the importance of the Templar Order to the templars.’ I called out across the hall. Mumbles and mutterings of scornful laughter sounded in reply and I sighed, waiting for the noise to die down. ‘However we must have unity before diversity. We all are on the same side here, and we all have the same enemy. Corypheus. That is where we should be focusing all our efforts on for the present moment.’

Murmurs of disapproval echoed, the shaking of heads as my words were digested with disdain.

Waiting again for silence, I continued. ‘The Inquisition still welcomes the templars to the cause of the Inquisition, but as soldiers fighting with their skills already possessed. We simply cannot spare the resources to rebuild the Templar Order at the same time as we try to fight Corypheus and his army.’

‘Bollocks!’ retorted a templar nearby ‘We can fight for your cause and you can keep us like any other soldier. Where is the waste of resources?’

‘Recruitment into your Order will take time and money away from the Inquisition.’ I explained ‘Templar training, obtaining more lyrium supplies as the templar numbers grow, and the time and effort that will be pulled away from the Inquisition by rebuilding your group would be excessive.’

‘You’re a fucking abomination of a mage, of course you would want this!’ hollered another templar, incensed with rage.

More cries of outrage and approval sounded across the room as Rylen roared for silence again.

Michel de Chevin took a step forward towards the templar who had cursed me, a dangerous glint in his blue eyes. ‘You will show respect to the Inquisitor as you stand under her mercy.’ reproached Michel de Chevin sternly, drawing a finger to the man. ‘The Inquisitor has ensured your lives were spared not only by releasing you from the red lyrium and Corypheus, but also by forgiving former betrayals by siding with the enemy. A matter other rulers may have taken a different stance on.’

‘Are you calling us traitors now?’ seethed a woman dressed in full templar armour ‘Is this why you are punishing us?’

‘I am calling you lucky.’ responded Michel, trying to show reason to the erratic group before him ‘To be given a second chance is a blessing few gain, and yet here you have it. The Inquisitor has ensured this with no conditions attached.

You were released and not forced to serve under the banner of the Inquisition. It was of your choosing. She granted clemency and was benevolent in her ruling. Yet now a line must be drawn as to what needs to be done for the benefit of the Inquisition in our plight against Corypheus.’

Rylen stood forward, trying to gain the attention of the room. ‘The Inquisition were involved when the mages were concerned, no offence intended Inquisitor.’ pointed out the Commander ‘You intervened and aided the rebel mages when they pledged themselves to the Tevinter Imperium.’

‘Magister Alexius was working in league with Corypheus, we had no choice but to intervene.’ I retorted.

‘Intervening is one thing, rewarding them with freedom is another.’ called out a templar.

‘How is freedom a reward?’ I replied shortly, looking around the room sternly ‘Should I only bestow such a thing on the deserving? No one, and especially no Order, should be able to withhold the freedom of another. That, plain and simple, is an abuse of power.’

Again cries of outrage sounded, and shouts of cursed mages could be heard coming from the lips of more than one person. I remained stiff in my seat, casting a cold look around the room from my emotionless face as Michel de Chevin yelled for silence.

‘The Inquisition secured the freedom of the mages when they were exiled from Ferelden by Queen Anora.’ I explained to Rylen ‘There were only three choices before us in regards to the mages. We could have exiled the mages, yet we knew in order to fight Corypheus we needed every man and woman who would be willing to fight for our cause. Perhaps we could have forced the mages to aid us, and withheld their freedom. Yet one must ask how a ruler can expect its soldiers to serve under oppression and servitude? The Arcane talents of the mages is something we need to defeat this evil, and yet how can I in good faith expect the mages of Thedas to aid the Inquisition while forcing their hand? You forget, a freeman will always be more loyal to a cause than a slave ever will be. Just as I would not bind the templars to serve our cause, I would not do the same to the mages. We are all free people.’

‘Free until the whole fucking lot of you turn into abominations and turn on the rest of us.’ spat another templar ‘You think Corypheus is a problem? Just wait until what happened in Kirkwall happens to the whole bloody realm!’

The group began to applause and yell out in approval.

‘This is not the time or place for personal opinions.’ called out Commander Rylen over the roar of voices, trying to settle the men and women down ‘We must keep our minds focused on whether we unite with the Inquisition.’

‘As I was saying,’ I continued ‘we are all free to decide what we do and what cause we choose to serve.

‘And we choose to be templars, but will not be recognised as such under your banner?’ remarked another templar ‘Your lack of respect is an insult to our Order.’

‘There is a difference between acknowledging your Order, and allowing your Order to rebuild under the Inquisition.’ pointed out Michel ‘I do not think the Inquisitor ever said she did not acknowledge your Order.’

‘Semantics.’ dismissed another templar ‘Her actions speak louder than words.’

Casting my eyes in frustration around the room, I could see we were making no progress. ‘Mage, templar, priest, knight, mercenary. We are all on the same side and have the one cause.’ I appealed ‘Does it matter what we call ourselves?’

‘There is only one true cause in our eyes of a templar.’ proclaimed an elderly man, his hand placed proudly across his chest where the Order’s crest of a blue sword surrounded by flame was etched in the breastplate ‘We remain an army of our own first and foremost.’

‘Although that should be under the guidance of the Chantry who, on another note, would be the appropriate channel to help you rebuild. Not the Inquisition.’ I replied sharply ‘The Inquisition does not involve itself in the politics of the Chantry any more than we would expect the Chantry to be involved in ours.’

‘What of the mage army you secretly build within the walls of Skyhold.’ shouted out another templar at the back of the hall. Many men and women grumbled in approval of this comment. ‘Aye, we’ve all heard about your mage tower there. You would serve your own kind by rebuilding the mages whilst forbidding the templars to do the same.’

Laughing in amusement, my voice filled the hall with a flighty echo. ‘A secret mage army within Skyhold?’ I exclaimed ‘Is this the latest gossip going around the ranks? Have you seen the mage tower at the keep? It is an eighth the size of this hall, and houses a bunch of dried herbs and mouldy books. You also forget mages need a place to train, albeit a somewhat dismal place that we have provided. In fact we have the mage that runs the tower right here, Athalwolf Guildersleeve. The very mage who created the spell that saved each and every one of you from Corypheus and the red lyrium.’

Athalwolf looked at the crowd, a furious glint in his black eyes as he stood there proud and tall. I knew he despised the templars with a passion, and for us to have to stand here and justify our actions to the Order was intolerable.

‘Tell me Athalwolf, do you recall running a secret mage army in Skyhold?’ I mused ‘Or more to the point, why did you create a spell to release and spare the lives of the templars if we secretly plot against them. A rooky mistake on your behalf.’

A few scoffs resonated around the hall, and Athalwolf chuckled as he cast me an amused look.

‘I confess our only motive was saving the lives of as many as we could, even if they were fighting against us.’ replied the mage tactfully.

Rylen began marching towards the throne, and Michel stiffened a little beside me as he readied himself for any hostility. The Knight-Commander stopped in front of me, his brown eyes casting down to produce a parchment with a large red seal of the Inquisition on it. Handing it to me, the man turned back to his fellow templars.

‘I received a letter late last night from Commander Cullen of the Inquisition.’ informed Rylen ‘He has written to the Grand Cleric in Val Royeaux, acting steward while a Devine is yet to decided, and requested aid for the Templar Order. The Chantry have responded, and with their blessing have given the templars possession of the Tower of Ishal to rebuild their Order.’

Whispered murmurs of excitement filled the room, growing louder into a stampede of clapping and cheering. Reading the letter with a racing heart, my eyes blurrily ran over the correspondence as the room gave me a few minutes to take in the letter.

‘The Tower of Ishal? Is that not in Ostagar?’ asked Michel in surprise ‘I had thought the kingdom of Ferelden reigned over that?’

‘Queen Anora gifted it to the Chantry after the Blight was over.’ I muttered under my breath ‘A political move on her behalf to gain favour. It happens with most kingdoms.’

‘Well yes a donation of gold to the coffers perhaps, but a large portion of Ferelden land?’ remarked the ex-chevalier suspiciously ‘There is more to this surely?’

‘It is true.’ confirmed Athalwolf, moving closer to the ex-chevalier with a lowered voice ‘You must realise Ostagar was in ruins, the very ground stained red with the combined blood of Grey Wardens, soldiers of Cailan’s army and that of the darkspawn. It was tainted in the eyes of the Ferelden people. Queen Anora’s husband, King Cailan, died there. In addition her father’s actions in Ostagar gave the place an even darker name. I imagine it was easy for the Queen to gift away such a place to the Chantry and separate herself from that place entirely. Besides from what I heard no Ferelden in their right mind wanted to go anywhere near the place even before the battle, it being so close to the Kocari Wilds and Chasidh barbarian tribes of the south.’

Defeated, I looked up to the men beside me. ‘Cullen has ensured that the Order can rebuild irrespective of our actions today.’ I muttered ‘It is all here, the official seal from the Chantry bestowing the Tower of Ishal to the templars.’

Handing the letter over to the ex-chevalier, both he and Athalwolf perused the document as I returned my stern gaze to the room.

‘Unbelievable.’ murmured the ex-chevalier ‘It appears we have underestimated Cullen once again.’

Retrieving the letter, I coldly handed it back to Rylen. The Commander took the paper, but there was no glee in his eyes or smugness on his face. He had the decency to know even though the templars had won today, it was a great loss to others. ‘I am sorry Inquisitor.’ remarked Rylen softly.

Throwing him a silent nod, I looked back to the room ‘While I appreciate being informed of the Templar Order’s intentions to rebuild, at the end of the day that is a matter between the templars and the Chantry. Where you choose to go does not involve the Inquisition. However you need to make a choice on whether you wish to aid Thedas, or yourselves.’

Another outcry of boos and banging fists against tables arose, the templars disgusted at my words once more. I waited with pursed lips until the mutterings settled down, growing more and more impatient by the second.

‘We choose to stay and fight for the Inquisition.’ remarked Rylen seriously, looking across to all the men and women before him ‘We have been assured by Commander Cullen that the Inquisition will continue to release the Red Templars, and that is most important to us.’

Throwing a surprised look to Michel, who also had been caught off-guard by this decision, we both held a worried look whilst Athalwolf appeared catatonic. This was not that outcome we had expected, or wanted.

‘This is good news.’ I replied, feeling my hands growing shaky. Clutching them together, I tried to stop the trembling as the new reality dawned. If the templars remained soldiers for the Inquisition and did not rebuild under the Inquisition then we would be forced to continue what we started. Releasing the Red Templars.

‘Then we shall serve as soldiers for the Inquisition, and rebuild separately as templars at Ostagar.’ called out Rylen ‘Under the ruling of Knight-Commander Cullen and myself, the Templar Order shall be once more as in days of old.’

My eyes flashed up, green and fearful at the mention of the new title and position Cullen had taken. It was exactly what I had feared. Cullen was re-joining the Templar Order.

‘What have I done.’ whispered a mortified Athalwolf, turning away his gaze away from the cheering templars in front of us.

‘Knight-Commander Cullen?’ I murmured in horror.

Feeling a warm hand on my shoulder, I looked up to see Michel. He looked just as worried but was trying to reassure me. ‘Now is not the time.’ he whispered ‘Dismiss this assembly, you have said everything you needed to. Trust me Ophelia, nothing good can come of this the longer we remain here.’

Eyes fixated on the men and women before us, finally happy and at peace, I hardly recalled dismissing the room. All that ran through my mind was the abhorrent reality of the situation. That the mages had saved the templars and their fading Templar Order, and in doing so had now sealed their own fate. We had shown kindness on a ruthless crew and were now destined to a knife in our gullet at the bottom of the ocean. My eyes were wide open, but it was all so terribly terribly late.

****

Our journey back to Skyhold was solemn. Expecting the templars to leave the Inquisition, we had been hopeful that chapter would be closed soon despite the uproar it would have caused. Now to find out the templars were refusing to leave, instead remaining as soldiers so more of their numbers could be saved, we found ourselves in a harder position than I imagined. To know that Cullen had gone behind my back and sent word to Rylen informing him they would establish the Order in the Tower of Ishal. To know Cullen never felt that I, as the Inquisitor, deserved to know such an important piece of information. He had set out to embarrass me in front of the Order, and to show the templars who really held the reins. I was humiliated, but not for that reason. Cullen was using the mages to save the templars, and then he was going to turn around and come after each and every one of us. And there was nothing we could do about it. I felt the fool.

We rode swift across the red sands of the Western Approach, silent and contemplative, but as we stepped onto the cobblestone road of the Imperial Highway I could not contain my well of questions a moment longer.

‘How did Cullen manage this?’ I blurted out rather bitterly ‘I’ve been trying to figure this out for hours. He’s not even a templar anymore. Well, no I suppose he is now. Knight-Commander of the entire bloody Order.’

The ex-chevalier slowed his white steed to ride beside me, patting the beast’s neck as he took a moment to appreciate the Orlesian country side. ‘Cullen was Knight-Captain in Kirkwall and he had standing amongst the ranks. He rallied the templars and restored the Order after the Kirkwall Rebellion.’ observed Michel ‘I am certain he knew the right people and has connections far and wide.’

‘Within the Order perhaps, but he has never been in the favour with the Chantry.’ I pointed out ‘Why would the Chantry be willing to aid a Commander of the Inquisition? And so swiftly? Why this whole deal had to have been arranged in a matter of a few days. Who has the standing to obtain Ostagar from the Chantry? It’s unthinkable!’

Athalwolf sidled up silently into our conversation on the other side of me, obviously eavesdropping and even more apparent that he knew the answer to my question. ‘Leliana and Cassandra.’ he mumbled ‘They have influence in the Chantry.’

Michel sighed, and I shook my head ‘Leliana.’

‘Cullen has powerful allies, it seems.’ muttered Athalwolf.

Twisting my reins in unrest, I fiddled with the strap until my horse bucked his head away in annoyance. ‘Perhaps we underestimate our own,’ I scorned ‘and whether they be friend or foe.’

‘Everything Cullen and the templars have done does not reflect badly on the Inquisition.’ noted Michel ‘In the eyes of the people they have done a good thing by ensuring there is an Order to guard against magic once more. These actions cannot be stopped by you or the Inquisition. It seems Cullen and Leliana know how to play the game and they play it well.’

‘We could hold back on rescuing Red Templars, focus our attention on the Venatori instead?’ I suggested ‘We need more scouting missions in Tirashan. Perhaps clear out the Vimmark Mountains of the supporters of Corypheus rumoured to have set up camps throughout the area?’

The mage rubbed his eyes tiredly, looking more fatigued than ever as he exhaled in frustration. ‘No do you not see Ophelia? Now we have templars in the ranks, and growing in numbers. Every time we encounter a Red Templar the mages will literally be forced to do what they can to help. The templars control over the mages has already begun.’

Stopping in our tracks, we looked up ahead at the crossroads where a gibbet had been erected. Athalwolf, Michel and I stared at the decomposing corpse of a woman in the cage with a mixture of disgust and trepidation. The rest of our party passed, throwing a quick look back before riding on. However we three remained almost statuesque in our saddles, unwilling to cross that threshold.

‘La Corriveau. The Orlesians sometimes like to make a point in the most shocking of ways.’ reproached Michel, eyeing the body with a grimace ‘Traitors, highwaymen, murderers, thieves, pirates. All sentenced to the iron cage until their clothes decay and their bones scatter.’

‘Everywhere I look I just keep on seeing the injustice of the imprisoned.’ I scorned ‘I suppose it could be worse. In Tevinter I hear they draw and quarter the guilty. Ironically though, mages are free.’

‘This is all my fault.’ blurted out Athalwolf suddenly, looking horrified as he watched the rusty cage squeak and groan tiredly in the breeze. ‘If I had not created this spell to release the templars, the Order would have taken years and years to recruit and rebuild. Time for the mages to remain free in Thedas and allow the people to grow accustomed to the concept. Yet now? Now I have ensured the templars will be ready to imprison us the moment the Inquisition is no longer deemed necessary. Cullen has now secured a fortress for the templars, and now they have even greater standing than ever before. I did this.’

‘You weren’t to know.’ I reassured, looking over to a group who were waiting for us up ahead, before turning my attention back to the body in the cage. ‘None of us could have predicted this.’

The mage looked over to me desperately ‘Ophelia you cannot let Cullen do this.’

Michel sighed, turning to Athalwolf ‘Trust me on this one, none of us have control or influence over that man. Not even Ophelia.’

‘I had my suspicions,’ scorned Athalwolf ‘but if not Ophelia, then who?’

Unable to tear my eyes from the cage, I stared up in revulsion. ‘What can I do? You see how the council makes me a puppet in their schemes.’ I fumed ‘I made this decision as the Inquisitor. I told Cullen, as Inquisitor, that he was to back down and accept my decision. So what happens? Dealings with the Chantry behind my back securing Ostagar to rebuild the templars. Did Leliana or Cassandra think maybe I would like to have been informed? No! I’m just the Inquisitor. Athalwolf, I’m beginning to doubt whether I even have my own freedom anymore. I’m questioning whether I ever did. I cannot think of any way to stop the templars now.’

‘There are other ways, I am certain.’ muttered the mage darkly.

The ex-chevalier cast his blue eyes ahead on the grassy track before him. ‘If this escalates, we all lose. Our world will be torn apart, and death and suffering will cover the land. The forests will die and the water will grow red with the blood of the slain. Do not forget the future you saw Ophelia, the one where red lyrium covers the ground and death reigns over the living.’

‘Then what?’ I asked miserably ‘What would you have me do?’

A glimmer of light filled Athalwolf’s eyes as he began to ride slowly ahead. Commencing our trot, Michel and I turned to Athalwolf as he sat there now chuckling to himself.

‘We do what the templar’s accused us of doing.’ remarked the mage excitedly.

‘What? Oh…you mean the conspiracy of the secret mage army?’ I chuckled. Pausing to think about the concept, I threw my fellow mage a grin. ‘On second thoughts, that could be something to consider.’

‘Better yet, a Mage Order.’ replied Athalwolf enthusiastically ‘Let the Templar Order rebuild and let us do the same. In the end, we will all be prepared for war.’

The ex-chevalier threw us a concerned look, running his eyes over the pair of us as if silently foreseeing how future days would play out. ‘An Order of Mages is more powerful than scattered mages, as the templars have shown us.’ observed Michel ‘However we have a saying in Orlais; a war only achieves the one certainty in life. Death.’

Kicking his heels, the ex-chevalier rode on ahead ‘We should keep on moving, the day is short and none of us should ride in the dark on the Imperial Highway.’


	40. Fondest Salutations

Arriving late into Skyhold, the courtyard was empty as the residents of the keep gathered in the main hall, the faint sound of music and chattering spilling out into the bleak night. A few stray dogs followed us in excitement, eager for a pat as they barked besides us. Tiredly we dismounted, the snort and whiny of the occasional horse filling the crisp cool silence of the stables. Unfastening my satchel and eager to retire for the night, my other nine companions gathered around somewhat uncertainly, fidgeting with their fingers and thumbs as if waiting for something to happen.

Looking around to the party before me I threw them a half-hearted salute ‘Well, thank you for all your support on this journey. I suppose we achieved the outcome we set out for.’

‘You suppose wrong!’ chuckled Varric, pausing to see his taunting was less than appreciated by myself or Athalwolf. ‘Now, now kids it’ll be okay. This gorgeous rogue isn’t about to let his friends be turned into templar food.’

‘Somehow I don’t think Bianca can get us out of this one.’ I sighed, starting to head off on my own as the group remained behind. ‘Hopefully things will seem clearer in the morning. Good night everyone.’

‘Oh no no no, you’re not getting out of this so easily.’ Feeling a strong hand grab my arm, I was spun around to see Varric grinning at me ‘Have you forgotten what day it is? Is it really like me to get everyone to ride that hard on the last part of a journey? Why we would still be in Verchiel drinking at The Foaming Flagon Inn if it wasn’t for.... ’

A wave of laughter and clapping to the merry song of a few fiddles sounded from the keep once more, and I could distinctly hear the voice of our bard Maryden singing in amongst the cheer. All strange events to be happening mid-week in Skyhold. My eyes widened as I took a step back from my group, terrified at what was unfolding before me.

‘No, you wouldn’t be that wicked.’ I pleaded ‘After everything I’ve just gone through.’

I looked over to see Michel pinching his lip, trying to suppress the amusement on his face, while Blackwall was positively beaming and Athalwolf bemusedly chuckled beside him. Varric laughed, slapping his knee in delight at the horror on my face.

‘I suspect the night has only begun.’ remarked Solas with a small smile of his own.

‘Happy birthday your Inquisitorialness!’ cried out Varric ‘And to think you never said a word about it all day, as if it never happened. I had to stop our Maister of Blades here about several times from blurting out his salutations.’

‘Well it was her birthday,’ defended the ex-chevalier ‘how would that have made her feel if she thought no one remembered her own birthday.’

‘Happy,’ I retorted bluntly, trying to suppress a smile ‘very, very happy.’

‘Another year added, but also another year for growth and experience.’ acknowledged Solas pensively.

‘Another year to be shamelessly beaten at Samesies Snap Snap and Wicked Grace.’ added Varric smugly ‘May your next be just as terrible!’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me on my birthday?’ I jeered ‘Go make me a cake.’

The dwarf rubbed his hands together in glee ‘Come on, it sounds like everyone has started the festivities without us.’

Groaning, my eyes darted around the courtyard.

‘And there is no escaping your birthday Inquisitor.’ warned Varric, pointing an accusing finger at me ‘As you love to say; if not for yourself, do it for the people.’

‘You’ve taken that slightly out of context, as always.’ I mused ‘Besides, no one cares about my birthday!’

‘Well heck of course they don’t!’ agreed Varric gleefully ‘You’re doing this so we can all get blind-drunk without being chastised by Curly or the Seeker. Now I’m heading up to let everyone know we’ve arrived. You have five minutes before I send out the guards.’

‘Thanks Varric.’ I muttered ‘I’ll be up momentarily.’

As the group set up towards the main stairs, I remained behind in the dark pretending to shuffle in search of something in my pack. A new life would have been good. Or a rod of transportation that could hurtle me away from the keep into a herd of brontos or a nest of spiders. Anywhere but here.

A figure remained behind, standing silently in wait. The sound of his blade against his metal armour rustled every now and then as he shifted his body to release the tension from his aching muscles.

‘You knew.’ I remarked accusingly, throwing the chuckling ex-chevalier a displeased smirk ‘You utter bastard.’

Graciously reaching out his hand, Michel looked amused ‘My deepest apologies. Varric told me about this plan of his a few days back in Val Firmin and I thought it best you not have to fret about it.’

‘I don’t fret.’ I replied indignantly, clasping his palm and letting him pull me up.

Michel laughed, picking up my pack and slinging it over his shoulder ‘That is strange! I recall you fretting away in your pack just then, waiting for everyone to leave so you could bolt up the back stairs of the keep.’

Sighing, I nodded in defeat ‘Well it was the closest place to run away.’

Michel grinned ‘They lock the kitchen doors at night, you did not stand a chance.’

‘Well then I’d scale the wall and climb my way up.’ I retorted ‘I’ve seen it done before.’

Michel bashfully rubbed his arm, a dimple in his cheek as he chuckled. ‘The secret to that trick is you need to do it with a rose between your teeth.’ confessed the knight, looking around in mocking disappointment ‘Unfortunately we are fresh out. I suppose you will have to celebrate your birthday instead.’

‘I get the distinct impression you are enjoying this?’ I replied with narrowed eyes ‘I thought we were friends.’

Drawing closer, Michel brought my hand up to his lips. Placing a warm kiss on it, he whispered affectionately ‘Happy Birthday Ophelia.’

Neither of us willing to withdraw our hands, we stood there for a moment grinning foolishly in silence before the bellow of a drunken man in the courtyard brought us back to reality.

‘Thank you Michel.’ I replied, pulling away sheepishly ‘Not only for the birthday wishes. For your support on this trip, and your support in general. Dear sir I would take my hat off to you if indeed I could find one in Thedas that didn’t make me look like a right royal oaf.’

Sharing a chuckle, suddenly the knight hesitated as if he was about to say something but then decided not to. Quietly Michel looked up at the stars, lost in his thoughts. ‘A constant reminder that even at the darkest of times there is a glimmer of light to give us hope.’ he observed contemplatively.

‘Hope for what?’ I asked.

Michel turned to me in surprise ‘For the survival of the realm and every life on it. Not just for templars and mages. For each and every being.’. In his usual elegant manner, Michel held himself as confident as a noble with the heart of a philosopher as he looked up at the skies once more ‘It is hard to give advice without also giving offence…yet I care for you so that I cannot stand by and watch your demise.’

Throwing him an uncertain shrug, Michel shook his head ‘You are not going to like what I have to say. If you are not careful, the Templar Order and your intended Mage Order will end up with a situation like Kirkwall experienced except on a much larger scale. What the templar mentioned in the Greenstone Hall held merit.’

‘Those mages resorted to blood magic.’ I replied defensively ‘We are not like them in the slightest.’

‘Terrible situations make people do terrible things.’ replied Michel softly, turning his eyes to me sadly he added ‘I do not want to see you fall but the more I witness what is happening around me the more inevitable it becomes.’

‘Then you are just like the rest of them.’ I snapped, displeased at my friend’s sudden lack of faith. Kicking a rock with my boot, it scattered away into the dark grass and I followed on trying to find it. ‘I am fighting for the rights of all mages, and you are not one of them. It is no concern of yours.’

‘You are a concern of mine!’ replied Michel sharply, walking over to face me ‘Were it anyone else I would respect ceremony and remain unbiased but I care too much for you to watch you embark on a suicidal mission.’

‘You underestimate the power of magic then.’ I replied frostily.

‘The mages in Kirkwall resorted to blood magic because the traditional arcane methods were not as powerful. Now I am no mage, but common sense dictates that resorting to spells that require blood should be looked upon with a certain amount of scrutiny.’

‘You said you would support me?’ I replied angrily ‘Why are you saying all this?’

In vexation Michel kicked the rock I had been looking for ‘Because ar lath ma, that’s why!’. Running his hand through his blonde hair, he shook his head ‘I am sorry but how can I watch the woman that I love go to her death and not say a word.’

‘All I can say is please trust me on this.’ I murmured, thanking the shadows for concealing my pounding chest ‘Athalwolf and I know what we are doing.’

‘Your words, although confident as you may be, do not put my mind or heart at ease.’ replied Michel ‘If you are determined to stay your course, then I would ask something of you.’

‘Such as?’ I asked curiously, adding playfully ‘Do you want me to do a magic trick?’

The ex-chevalier looked sternly at me ‘I want you to make me your champion, so I can work in the same capacity for you as I did for Empress Celene. If I cannot prevent you from your endeavour with the mages, I want to be able to protect you at all times.’

Somewhat stunned, I threw a nervous laugh in reply ‘Who is going to protect you from Cullen when he hears about your proposal? Aside from that, you are needed as his second in Command.’

Michel nodded ‘As champion my duties were to protect Celene on all travel, meetings and other contact with people outside of her inner circle. I was still a chevalier, leading my own group of soldiers. I continued to train and mentor. However my blade was the sharpest and quickest of all the chevaliers, and I know best how to protect another with my body. You must allow me to do this for your sake and for mine.’

Biting my lip, I pondered the result of such a decision. Cullen would be furious and most likely the council. Meanwhile I would feel safer in a position I was feeling less safe in by the day. There was only one answer. With a smile, I nodded towards my companion ‘Then I agree. Thank you.’

With an elegant bow, Michel raised his blue eyes to mine ‘I will protect you like my own flesh and blood.’

‘You forgot bones.’ I pointed out.

The ex-chevalier chuckled, interlacing my arm through his ‘Yes even them. Now come, as my first task I shall escort you to the main hall.’

Groaning I let the Orlesian drag me along ‘This is ridiculous. I never celebrate my birthday, it is insignificant.’

‘The Orlesians take birthdays very seriously.’ informed the knight with a playful smile ‘In the Winter Palace the finest champagne from the vineyards of Lapin are drunk from lead crystal glasses moulded in the shape of the Empress’s breast.’

Turning to my chuckling companion, I threw him a disturbed look ‘You Orlesians are a perverse bunch, you are aware of that?’

‘And yet I never even mentioned what shape the birthday cake was.’ grinned Michel ‘Come on. I say, what is the worst that could happen from a birthday celebration? Then again I suppose that is just asking for trouble.’

As Michel and I made our way to the main hall, I was greeted with drunken cries of ‘appy birfday En’quisita from many an inebriated mage and soldier. The festivities had no doubt started many hours prior coming from the heady scent of Redcliffe ale and wine filling the room, no doubt from more than one spilled beverage on the wooden floors of the hall. The tables were heavily laden with cups and pitchers, the candles lit bright amongst the plethora of gossiping men and women, while giggles of laughter and shouts of drunken stupor could be heard in-between the sweet voice of Maryden singing in the corner, strumming her lute peacefully.

Skimming the room, a blur of faces and Inquisition armour greeted me, and I finally caught a glimpse Cullen afar at a table near the throne chair. His back was turned to me, but I recognised the sandy waves of unruly hair falling against his broad neck. Surprisingly he was not dressed in his traditional armour, or thankfully that of the templars, but rather wore a casual scarlet tunic. Joining him at the table was also Leliana, Cassandra, Vivienne, Cole, Blackwall, Dorian and a few soldiers.

It was apparent what part of the hall I would be avoiding that night.

As I made my way further into the hall the ruckus of greetings and birthday well wishes brought the Commander’s attention towards me as he turned around in his seat. Feeling shivers across my skin, I could feel him from across the room as if he were directly before me. Intense and unyielding, finally Cullen turned back to his company, and I to a man beside me who was pouring a flagon of ale.

‘You need a drink guv’nor.’ he said, handing over the beverage enthusiastically and spilling half of it over me.

‘I think you need several more than that guv’nor.’ observed an amused Michel, accepting a cup from the man with a nod of appreciation.

Sensing my growing uneasiness, Michel discreetly laced his fingers through mine, weaving me through the crowd. In his carefree way, he greeted the sea of faces so I could avoid them. Finally he pulled me to a nearby table close to the fire.

Looking over at the table seating the council in the distance, I cursed under my breath ‘Michel they are expecting me to report, and Maker be damned if I am going over there to that pit of snakes. Not after what they did behind my back.’

‘Then let me go, I have missed the judgement and reproach.’ grinned the ex-chevalier ‘They can hear the riveting events of our journey from me and you can stay here and try and enjoy yourself. It is your birthday remember? You get to call the shots.’

‘Oh is that what being the Inquisitor feels like?’ I asked sarcastically.

‘No, from what I have seen you have more power on your birthday.’ he teased. Squeezing my arm with a smile, Michel stood up made his way towards the group as I remained deep in my cup of ale.

****

Making his way past Reynard the thatch maker with a slap on the back, and Anne-Edith the apprentice mage with a kiss on the cheek, the ex-chevalier continued to work his way through the room. Exchanging warm hellos and handshakes, pausing momentarily to exchange pleasantries, and even partake in a quick coin flip, Michel finally approached the table at the head of the hall.

Making his way around the back of the table closest to the stained glass windows, Cullen and Leliana’s back were facing the ex-chevalier as he moved past the company to sit a few seats down. Michel’s smile suddenly transformed into a glower, a heavy pit forming in his stomach as the Orlesian noticed something strange. Something no one would have seen unless they too squeezed between the wall and the table. Indeed Michel beheld a subtle gesture that was anything but, as he noticed Leliana ever so discreetly tracing her fingers along the upper inner thigh of Cullen. The templar’s leg was splayed out towards the Spymaster, obviously encouraging and enjoying the hidden play underneath the table.

‘Unbelievable.’ muttered Michel darkly as he continued towards the empty space on the bench.

‘Michel!’ cried out Dorian, eyes lighting up ‘My dear chevalier, come have a seat with us. We were just enlightening our fine company all about our little adventure.’

Michel smiled at the party before him as he sat down ‘It is good to see you all once more.’

‘Where is the Inquisitor?’ asked Cassandra, casting her gaze around the room ‘Varric went off to retrieve his birthday present for her. Do not ask what it is, you do not want to know.’

Michel shrugged ‘I am sure she is here somewhere, we only just arrived.’. The knight poured himself an ale as he felt the painful gaze of green and amber on him. ‘The trip went well.’ he added pleasantly, throwing a smile to the Commander and the Spymaster.

‘Did Rylen receive my letter on time?’ asked Cullen, a smirk on his scarred lip.

‘The one regarding the templars relocating to Ostagar? Oh yes.’ replied Michel light heartedly, refusing to take the bait.

‘And the Inquisitor was fine with these plans?’ asked Leliana just as innocently as Michel’s answers.

‘Why would she not?’ pondered the ex-chevalier, taking a sip of his beverage ‘Ophelia has no interest with business between the Chantry and the Templar Order. They are as free as anyone to do what they wish outside of the Inquisition. We accomplished what we went there to do.’

Cullen shrugged, easing back into his seat ‘That surprises me, but I am glad she did not take it as a personal attack by anyone in Skyhold.’

‘Now why would she ever have cause to doubt the intentions of anyone on the council?’ remarked Michel with a small, albeit patronising, smile ‘Ophelia does not make such matters personal, and naturally neither would any of you.’

The Commander narrowed his eyes on the ex-chevalier. ‘Naturally. As always, it is a pleasure to have you back in Skyhold Michel.’ he replied flatly.

Michel responded merely by taking another leisurely sip of ale, a small furrow on his brow as he watched Cullen and Leliana continue their own conversation.

‘Did Warden-Commander Alistair take the decision well?’ asked Cassandra, moving aside to let in a grinning Varric. The dwarf poked the Seeker playfully in the waist as he sat close beside her, and Cassandra tried to supress a delighted smile on her face.

‘Oh he was very amicable as always.’ replied Michel ‘Confused at first, but Ophelia explained the matter and he understood completely, there was no ill will. Actually he was very helpful in arranging a meeting with the templars and helping them organise to relocate.’

‘Mind you he was a little taken aback about the templar’s rebuilding in Ostagar.’ added Varric ‘I don’t think he approved.’

‘What did he say?’ asked Cassandra.

‘Ah Seeker it was what he didn’t say that gave it away.’ explained Varric ‘At the mention of the place he went quiet and serious. Something was definitely wrong.’

‘I noticed that also.’ exclaimed Michel ‘It was very out of character for the Warden-Commander.’

‘That man is one of a kind, I’ll say that much.’ observed Varric in amusement, picking up some bread to gnaw into.

‘You did not like him?’ inquired Cassandra, her brown eyes smiling at the dwarf.

‘Heck I loved the guy!’ chuckled Varric ‘The man is head of his Order yet has no ego in the slightest, and lives for jokes and cheeses! What’s not to like about that?’

‘I agree.’ chuckled Michel. Looking over to Cullen, the Orlesian added a little louder ‘We all got to meet Sierra Amell at Adamant.’. The ex-chevalier waited for the reaction of the Commander, only to be surprised it was not him but Leliana that responded with a sharp look.

‘What?’ remarked Leliana ‘She has come back?’

Cullen threw a concerned look to Leliana, who looked more than a little angry at the mention of Sierra.

Varric, noticing the uncomfortable silence, tried to break the tension ‘Well you wouldn’t have believed the storms that came through Verchiel on our way to the Western Approach. I swear-’

Kicking back her stool, Leliana abruptly stood up from the table and stormed off, leaving Michel to look even more bewildered and the remaining party more than a little uneasy.

Genuinely confused, the ex-chevalier looked around the table ‘Did I say something wrong?’

‘When do you not Michel?’ muttered Cullen, looking at him sternly ‘Leliana and Sierra share a terrible past, you would be wise never to mention Amell’s name to Leliana ever again.’

‘I had no idea.’ replied Michel with a frown, looking afar as Leliana roughly brushed past people, rushing towards the main doors of the hall.

The Commander stood up ‘You will have to excuse me for a moment.’

‘Tell Leliana I am sorry if I have caused any offence.’ remarked Michel ‘It was not intended.’

The Commander threw the ex-chevalier a dark look ‘Were I to see her again, I would. I must attend to something else.’

Michel raised an eyebrow as Cullen walked away, entirely unconvinced the Commander had any business except with the ginger haired woman that had just walked off. The ex-chevalier’s eyes followed the man as he made his way through the merry folk, towards the main doors of the hall.

****

Margery fair, oh Margery fair

I have found me another to whom I now care

Out with the old one and in with the new

But a bottle of treacle I bestow unto you!

Deep into my third ale, a drunken man beside me slurred away his vulgar ditties, spitting ale and saliva with each drawn out line. I was unsure whether I was more disturbed by the fact that a group had willingly gathered around to listen to the off-key brewery beside me, or the fact that Margery was being kicked out with nothing but a bottle of treacle as compensation. Both seemed unsettling concepts.

‘Ophelia.’

Silently cursing under my breath, I looked up to see a familiar face with a scar on his lip and his strong jaw bulging as he swallowed. A former lover, and now a templar. My breath drew quickly as I turned towards Cullen standing at the side of the bench.

Oh Annabel sweet, oh Annabel sweet

Your cheeks were like roses but toads were your feet

Off to the workhouse is where you go now

For I have more seeds that are needing to plough

‘Can we speak for a moment?’ Cullen asked seriously, glaring over at the man singing with a look of revulsion ‘Unless you were otherwise preoccupied?’

‘Say what you want.’ I replied nonchalantly, returning my gaze to the fire ‘Have you come to gloat or chastise?’

The Commander sat down beside me, clasping his palms together as he too stared into the fire. ‘Actually I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.’ he murmured, turning his head to look over me although I refused to return the gesture. ‘About Ostagar. All that was for the benefit of the Order. It was not personal. I need you to know I never intended to hurt you, nor was it an attack on the mages.’

‘And yet once again you did a marvelous job in hurting me.’ I replied, rolling my eyes ‘I bet you thought it would be remarkably funny to humiliate a mage in front of all those templars.’

‘We disagree on this issue of templars and mages, there is no avoiding that.’ observed Cullen ‘My actions were to secure the Order and nothing more. In truth I was worried you would try and contact the Chantry if I warned you about my intentions to secure Ostagar. That would have not been good for the Inquisition.’

Throwing a glance to the man, I noticed there was no smirk on his lip. The man was genuinely sincere. ‘Was it Leliana or Cassandra that secured the deal with the Chantry?’

‘Leliana.’ murmured Cullen.

Shrugging, I took another sip ‘Michel and I suspected as much.’

‘You forget the Chantry have wanted the Templar Order back in their control for a while now.’ added Cullen ‘The Chantry and the templars share somewhat of a holy union. Unbreakable in the eyes of the Maker, and therefore we serve each other as best we can.’

‘No surprise I am of little faith then.’ I observed cynically.

Rubbing his neck, Cullen seemed slightly uncomfortable. ‘What I want to know is, where do we stand now?’ he asked quietly, staring into the fire.

Oh Eliza ye strumpet, Oh Eliza ye strumpet

You’ve stolen me mule and eaten me crumpet

Back to the alleyway you wicked sly tart

I’m off to the tavern to console me poor heart!

Scoffing, I watched the drunken man take a wonky bow as the group applauded him wildly and demanded another song. Finally I decided to respond to the equally ludicrous performance beside me.

‘As I recall you said we were over.’ I noted ‘Perhaps you were right. Perhaps mages and templars were never meant to get along.’

‘I do not think that.’ Cullen replied determinedly ‘It does not mean they cannot like each other.’

‘Like. It is such a loveless word, wouldn’t you agree?’ I remarked dejectedly ‘For what it is worth, I loved you. Maybe not as how you wanted it, maybe not how I should have shown it. I made mistakes, but I loved you.’

‘We all make mistakes,’ he muttered ‘some of us more than others.’

‘Is this about apportioning blame now?’ I quipped fiercely ‘That I have done more wrong than you?’

Sweeping back his wavy hair, the templar looked more than a little agitated. ‘Not you Ophelia, me. I never revealed the true beast within me, only showed you glimpses while we were together. Do you know why? Because there is no cursed beast within, what a joke of an excuse that is. It is just me. In its entirety I am that darkness filled with uncontrollable rage and desire, churning together until I destroy everyone and everything around me. Have you ever wondered why I hate demons so much?’

Cullen looked at me with furious devotion in his conjecture as he waited for an answer.

‘Because of what the demons did to the templars in the Kinloch Hold.’ I replied hesitantly, my eyes shifting nervously to the man.

Laughing bitterly, Cullen shook his head ‘If only it were that simple. Look at traits of demons; desire, rage, despair, pride, fear, envy, terror. And then look at my anger and unquenchable libidinous nature. No templar escaped from the Kinloch Hold twelve years ago, and yet here I am. A vessel of chaos. Did you ever think that maybe I was tainted? Look at how much damage I have caused since I left the Kinloch Hold?’

I chuckled, before realising the templar was being completely serious. ‘No.’ I whispered, moving closer so others would not hear ‘Yes you have done some terrible things but you have also done many good things that have saved the lives of so many. Made lives better. Each and every one of us has the potential to cause harm or good. Try not to think so badly of yourself’. With a small smile I added ‘That’s my job.’

The templar returned a half chuckle, nudging me in the side with his elbow ‘You would do well at it, and rightly so I imagine.’

‘Cullen…you don’t really believe that?’ I asked doubtfully ‘I mean, yes you may act dastardly at the best of times but that doesn’t make you a demon. You are just another person who got messed up by a series of spectacular shit events that happened along the way.’

‘The life of Cullen Stanton Rutherford – a series of spectacular shit events.’ mused the templar ‘Could be Varric’s next bestseller?’

‘It’s probably already on your bookshelf as we speak.’ I scoffed ‘Right next to The Wretched Tales of Ophelia Trevelyan.’

The Commander threw me a sad smile ‘What I said before you left…it was wrong of me to say that, and were you to forgive me I would wish it. I was angry at you interfering with the templars, and truth be told I still am. However I lashed out at you personally and it was uncalled for. I wanted to hurt you to appease the hurt I felt. Shameful, I know.’

‘Somewhat.’ I muttered ‘Or perhaps there is some truth in it. We both tried to disregard each other’s beliefs for our own. Maybe you and I never were meant to be because we will never see eye to eye.’

‘On some things perhaps,’ murmured Cullen, moving closer to sit thigh by thigh next to me ‘But if we were not meant to be together why do I catch myself always thinking about you despite my internal struggles?’. Turning his head to run his eyes over me, he raised a finger to my tresses ‘I am constantly thinking about your chestnut brown hair, the way it never settles and remains wild and unruly. Untamed.’

‘You can try to control the mages but trust me when I say no one can control my hair.’ I replied bluntly.

Cullen chuckled, stroking my arm with his thumb ‘That sense of humour. Your dry wit holds my admiration like no other. And those green eyes, Maker’s breath. I would willingly be smited by the Maker himself if only to be captivated once more by those beautiful eyes.’

‘What do you want, Commander?’ I asked, narrowing my eyes pretending to be suspicious ‘Plying me with honeyed words for some mischievous reason?’

‘Would you like me to ply you with honey?’ asked Cullen deviously ‘I would willingly do that for you.’. Growing serious once more, he held my attention with his deep amber eyes ‘I love you, but there is so much of me that you would not love. Could not love. My anger has been with me for so long, as have my shadowy prurient desires, along with all the pain and brutality. All of that feels natural to me now. I need you to stay away from me, and from that, lest you become what I am.’

‘And what if I still want to stay, even after everything we have been through?’ I replied quietly, staring at the flames that flickered before me ‘What if I cannot escape you? Cullen, there is something about you that makes me always want you.’

Cullen leaned towards me and firmly he clasped my face, his large and rough templar hands holding my cheeks as he drew his lips to mine. He paused before they touched, looking at me for a sign of approval or resistance.

‘Do you want this?’ he whispered in a low voice.

‘Yes.’ I replied shakily, trembling at his touch.

Cullen tenderly pulled me to his mouth, his full lips pressing onto mine in a deep embrace. His forehead against mine, Cullen looked into my eyes ‘I may be a Knight-Commander and you a mage, but I am at your mercy. I yearn for you every time I see you. It frightened me when we first met in Haven, and it frightens me even more now. And where I lack control, I will find other ways to get it back. Terrible and ruthless ways, Ophelia. You must know this of me.’

‘By shackling mages? Killing us?’ I whispered breathlessly ‘Where will you stop?’

‘No.’ murmured Cullen ‘You keep on identifying me as the man I was back in Kirkwall. Yet I stood by your decision to rescue the rebel mages that were exiled. I stood by you when you welcomed them here to Skyhold and offered them freedom. In Haven when you asked me my thoughts in respect to mages, I told you I wanted templars to work with mages. For mages to have more freedom, yet still I believe the templars have a role to fulfil. It would have been different, and a better life than the one mages were exposed to before. ‘

‘I know you are not the man you were in Kirkwall, I should not have said that.’ I muttered ‘I know how much you suffered from your time there. Sorry...’

‘I do not want you to be sorry.’ replied Cullen, drawing me close and holding me tighter in his arms.

I drew a deep breath, knowing what needed to be said ‘You never forgave me for being with Michel. I know my apologies cannot put your mind at ease. It doesn’t mean I am not sorry though.’

The Commander clenched his jaw, releasing me as he turned back to the fire. ‘Michel means nothing. It was just fornication.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ I scoffed ‘You of all people?’

Cullen cast his amber eyes intently into mine, serious and sombre ‘I believe there are connections between people that are purely carnal and nothing else. That we all have libidinous tendencies that some embrace and develop, while others supress to their shame. I am well aware that gratification can be obtained from another without sharing more. Yes Ophelia I do believe that. A master can separate the two quite easily, and I always did. It was only when I met you that I discovered a deeper level of intimacy, and that made the experience more intoxicating than I could have ever imagined.’. Cullen grabbed the ale off me and drank deep ‘It does not mean I was not sickened with jealousy seeing both of you together, or knowing he has sampled your delights. Yet I can separate the two. You lay with him for a time, but it does not have to mean anything more. That is not the problem.’

‘Then what?’ I asked.

‘The real problem is I am a templar who loves a mage, and that is something I cannot separate.’. Placing the mug down, Cullen turned to me. Running his hands in fascination across my face, the Commander threw me a dark smile ‘Is it because you are a mage that I want to bind you and hurt you and pleasure you all at the same time? I do not know what makes me feel so furious around you.’. Cullen ran his fingers across my lips, whispering ‘Sweet nothings perhaps, but all I desire is for you to bite and scratch and main me while I seed you. How can I be Knight-Commander of the templar Order and yet be bound to a mage the way I have let myself?’

As I allowed him, my master, to run his hands across me in that moment I knew I was helpless. How could I stand up against the templars when all I wanted was to be dominated by one and told to submit? I knew it was not the same thing as securing the freedom of mages in Thedas, a mere sexual kink and nothing more, but something in me felt ashamed yet excited at the feeling of being at Cullen’s mercy behind closed doors. Even here, I found my control slipping under the light caress of his fingers. In all honesty, Cullen had a hold over me that no magic could procure.

Flashing his eyes to the main door as if suddenly remembering something, Cullen rose from his seat.

‘Forgive me for a moment, I have to attend to some business,’ he remarked ‘it will be brief. Go get another drink, and we shall talk some more in a while.’

Bending down, Cullen placed a soft kiss on my lips before leaving for the doors out of the main hall.

I returned to my view of the fire, a small smile on my lips. In the corner of my eye, to my surprise, I noticed Michel de Chevin walking by at a fast pace, also apparently leaving the hall. No longer smiling, the ex-chevalier held daggers in his eyes as he made his way to the main doors.

‘Probably some barracks meeting.’ I muttered in dismissal, taking another sip of ale. The drunken man beside me recommenced singing again about Margery and I sighed heavily, a whimper on my lips as I prepared myself for another verse of torture. Raising my flagon to the fire, I chuckled cynically to myself ‘Happy Birthday Ophelia Trevelyan. Here’s to many more years of spectacular shit events to come.’


	41. Foul Is Fair and Fair Is Foul

Making his way across the courtyard, his boots strode heavily against the scuffed, wet weather-worn Ferelden stones. Christened by the first few droplets from the sky above, Cullen inhaled the moist air euphorically. The sweet smell of rain was so fresh and uplifting as it filled his chest and reminded him of better days. A place of momentary peace, he wished he could remain in the courtyard a while longer and feel the droplets fall onto his face and eyelashes as he always had loved to do.

As a child living in Honnleath, a village to the southwest of Ferelden, the Commander’s fondest memories were of long days spent playing in the fields with his siblings Mia, Branson and Rosalie. Whenever the clouds threatened to erupt Mia, the eldest sibling of the Rutherford family, would call out for everyone to take shelter under the leafy branches of the closest yew tree. Despite Mia’s orders Cullen would take delight in refusing to follow them, running further into the field to embrace the cold beads of drizzle transforming into wild pellets around him. Lost in a flurry of grey wolves, their tears bathed him with a rapturous zeal for life that would inevitably be lost as the years progressed, and the harsh realities of the world replaced his childish exuberance.

Noticing a few guards ahead glancing at the Commander, Cullen recommended his pace towards the stairs. Nodding a brief acknowledgement to the soldiers as he ascended the battlements, Cullen passed in through an abandoned room and out into the battlements once more until he came to his study. Running his hand across his unshaven jaw, he halted once more as he noticed someone was in his room. There was a candle lit within, the soft light glowing from underneath the door. As he turned the iron handle he was not surprised to find it unlocked as he entered.

With a blade in her hand, Leliana threw it hard into the wooden beam where it landed with an unforgiving thud, embedding deep into the oak. Walking over, the spymaster viciously yanked it out by the hilt, only to march across the room once more. Sweeping her fiery hair back, Leliana delivered a lethal flick of her wrist and the blade buried into the beam once more. Determined in her cause, she looked to the templar briefly before returning to her target.

‘It is either me or her, you know this.’ informed Leliana in a quiet yet dangerous tone ‘My intuition is screaming out to me that I need to finish this, and finish this I shall.’

Cullen quickly locked the door, before turning back to the sound of another dagger landing into the beam.

‘You know that is actually supporting the loft upstairs.’ observed Cullen, looking above him uncertainly ‘Any more assaults from your blade and you will leave me without a bedroom and a study.’

Wrenching the steel from the wood, Leliana determinedly returned to her mark to land another fatal hit. ‘As the Maker is my witness I vow to serve a mortal blow this time, and my blade will burn with the flames of his passion.’ hissed the assassin ‘As the Maker stands by my side, so shall it be.’

Walking over again to retrieve the blade, her arm was gently held back by the Commander.

‘Leliana, stop.’ he ordered softly, trying to placate the woman as her green eyes flashed heatedly to him ‘Take a moment to breathe and think this through.’

‘What have I to think through?’ she scathed ‘We did not want to start trouble with the Grey Wardens when they were going to aid the templars, but things have changed now. I knew this moment would come, when Sierra would be within my reach. Now I must act swift and without hesitation.’

Pulling the spymaster away from the beam Cullen led her to his chair, encouraging her to sit down. ‘You have had many opportunities to assassinate her before now.’ remarked Cullen ‘Yet you stayed your hand and never sought her out.’

‘Divine Justinia taught forgiveness, even in the hands of our enemies.’ replied Leliana ‘Her teachings were pious and upheld charity above all else, but that does not mean I have to agree with them. As her Left Hand I was bound to them. Now I am not.’

The Commander nodded in understanding, yet still looked deeply troubled. Sitting opposite the Spymaster at the desk, he place his hands meditatively together ‘A soldier should never make a decision in a frenzied state of mind. If you are not calm in your thoughts, your actions will be chaotic and unpredictable.’

Suddenly overwhelmed by uncontrollable thoughts, Leliana grabbed her fiery ginger hair in her hands and gasped in agony. ‘Oh Maker help me,’ she cried out ‘I can still feel the final surge of electricity from Sierra’s hands, jolting my body into convulsions. The pain was excruciating. Falling backwards...my head hit hard against the stone floor. I can still hear the sickening crunch of my skull smashing and caving in at the base. I would have died. It was over, I was already dying. But no that was not enough, was it? Sierra withdrew a blade and came over me as I lay helpless, plunging the cold steel into my heart as she stared blankly into my eyes. Red pouring from my body onto the steps of shrine, and there I lay coughing and choking on my own blood until darkness faded across my eyes….’

‘Leliana please do not hurt yourself by reliving this again.’ murmured Cullen sadly, reaching his hand out towards hers.

The Spymaster withdrew from the man, like a stag being hunted in the forest she held a savage alertness in her features, her body rigid and her eyes wide ‘…. waking frozen, my hands numb from the cold and my body a statue of rigid ice. I gasped for breath, only to behold the flame of Andraste burning in the torches around me. They were never lit….but when my eyes reopened the eternal flame had sprung to life once more. My skull was not crushed, and there was not a scratch on my skin. Not a drop of blood to be seen. Behold the resurrected one chosen by the Maker, for that is what you see before you now.’

Cullen lowered his head and made a sign of the Maker ‘And the faithful beheld what they knew was to come, and the faithless were given a sign to believe.’

Leliana bowed her head ‘And so it was.’

‘Leliana, come.’ remarked Cullen. Moving towards her, the templar pulled the woman up and wrapped his hands around her shoulders into a hug as she laced hers around his torso. ‘You know I would never let Sierra lay a finger on you,’ he reassured ’I will stop Sierra. As the Maker is my witness I swore to protect you. You are too important to Thedas. To the Maker himself.’

‘Do not mistake me for a quivering flower in the storm, I do not need you fighting my battles.’ Leliana replied indignantly ‘Never underestimate my swift blade under a cloak of shadows. That mage caught me in a moment of weakness, and I let my emotions cloud my judgement. I should have waited until we were at camp before I attacked, when she was off alone and unaware of what might come.’

‘I will protect you.’ Cullen replied adamantly ‘I can post more guards to watch over you day and night. Why I’ll even go and deal with the woman myself.’

Running her fingers fondly across the rough stubble of Cullen’s jawline, Leliana swept her forefinger down his neck and across his collar bone that revealed itself from the loose red tunic ‘You forget it is I who swore to protect you also. My beautiful creature whom I adorn with a gorget of raven feathers. His own cloak of shadows around his neck. Always safe.’

Cullen breathed in deeply as she trailed her hands under his tunic, running her hands across his tight abdomen. ‘Gorgeous man.’ she purred, playfully scratching his skin ‘My Knight-Commander of the Templar Order.’. Pulling back suddenly, her salacious smile transformed into a frown as she beheld Cullen’s serious face. ‘For all this time, it has been you and me.’ she observed.

The templar’s amber eyes flickered momentarily away before returning to her gaze ‘It always will be, as the Maker foretold.’

Leliana raised her brows and turned to the bookshelf. With an aloofness, she let her fingers trail across the books until she stopped at a bottle of Vint-9 Rowan’s Rose, plucking it off the shelf.

Cullen frowned as he watched the assassin uncork the bottle with disapproving pursed lips. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he asked.

‘It means we both know that is a lie.’ replied Leliana dryly, pouring a goblet of wine rather roughly and letting the crimson contents spill over the edge. ‘It has not been just you and I for quite some time now.’ she added darkly.

‘We both have had others, you are more guilty than I on that account.’ replied Cullen in slight annoyance, accepting the goblet from the smirking spymaster ‘I have only ever had Ophelia since we came to Skyhold. You have had many lovers in your bed since we arrived here.’

‘Lovers were they?’ replied Leliana indignantly ‘Please, do not make me laugh.’

‘Whatever you wish to call them, it is the same thing.’ dismissed Cullen, taking a hasty sip of wine.

‘Your affection for Ophelia has become strong, Cullen.’ observed Leliana with a knowing, albeit cold, smile ‘Stronger than our agreement. Why else would Ophelia not know about us after all this time?’

The templar cast a disapproving look to his companion, running his hand to his neck to massage a growing knot of tension. ‘How could she possibly understand what binds us?’ replied Cullen darkly ‘That is why I never told Ophelia. You have always known about my feelings towards her and have never pressed me as much as you do now. Why?’

‘Because I erred in judgement.’ replied Leliana sharply ‘I thought Ophelia was a silly plaything for you, as were Lenore, Triss and Amber in Kirkwall. No harm could come of it. Yet Ophelia grew so attached to you from the very beginning, and where you usually would have pushed away a submissive at that point as you did in Kirkwall, this time you kept her close. I remained passive, and let you indulge without interference. Why I even encouraged you both at times, to make you happy. You seemed happy enough. I wonder now whether that was wise of me?’

‘I care for her.’ defended Cullen, turning away from his cross companion ‘You know this to be true.’

‘You made me sacrifice our union for a year.’ scorned Leliana ‘Refusing to share my bed or embrace me as you did while you were with her. And for what? For a mage! Do you realise what you have involved yourself with? Do I need to remind you of the Canticle of Transfigurations?’

‘Of course not.’ muttered Cullen angrily ‘I am well aware, as you well know.’

Leliana looked at him with a scoff. Drawing near she began reciting ‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world, or beyond.’. The Spymaster shook her head ‘You would forsake our intimacy for that.’

‘What about the other night in the temple room?’ replied Cullen rigidly ‘Was that not intimate enough for you?’

‘Only after you finally broke ties with Ophelia after a painful year of dancing back and forth did you agree to one brief moment of play.’ scorned Leliana, crossing her arms in judgement ‘That was never how we used to be.’

Cullen clenched his jaw, knowing what needed to be said. ‘Ophelia still wants to be with me,’ confessed Cullen ‘she told me so in the hall before.’

Looking disgusted, Leliana shook her head in disbelief.

‘I was certain she never would have wanted to be with me after the deal we made with the Chantry.’ remarked Cullen ‘Yet I know my duty towards the Templar Order, and I knew it had to be done. I told her we were over Leliana, you know that. Ophelia left as furious as I was about the whole matter over the templars. It was over, and yet…. she still loves me.’

‘And do you?’ asked the Spymaster crisply.

‘Yes.’ replied Cullen ‘I do.’

‘This milky sentiment you have for her has become an issue.’ scorned Leliana ‘Ophelia is of a nature that would never understand or respect the bond we have, our connection is a holy marriage under the eyes of the Maker. No one can break preordained fate.’

‘You must understand that none but the truly faithful would understand the situation we have found ourselves in.’ pointed out Cullen ‘What binds us is something even we cannot truly fathom at times.’

‘You doubt the words of the Maker?’ accused Leliana ‘You of all people?’

‘Of course not, your visions have been validated as real prophecies by the Chantry.’ replied Cullen darkly ‘We were both chosen, it was not our choice but by the Maker himself.’

‘Divine Justinia confirmed my visions were real. She knew the Maker spoke to me and proclaimed me a vessel of the unforetold.’ replied Leliana determinedly ‘She knew you and I were bound by something holy the moment she saw us together. You wonder why all the hardship and pain was thrust upon us? It was to train us for the impeding chain of events that would allow us to fulfil the wishes of the Maker.’

Leaning against the table, Cullen nodded silently. ‘It has been a while since we have talked about the prophecy.’ observed Cullen ‘I had wondered whether you had put it to the back of your mind after so many years.’

Leliana look reverent as she recalled the vision ‘It never leaves my mind for a moment. Every sight the Maker has gifted me since my first vision in the Lothering Chantry is memorised and reflected upon each day. None of those visions compares to the one I had in Greenfeel however. That vision came to me again last night.’. Looking excitedly at Cullen, Leliana added with a pleased nod ‘The time draws close now.’

Cullen looked up sharply ‘The Maker came to you again in a vision?’

‘Yes.’ smiled Leliana ‘The same vision, but this time there was more to it. I was walking through an ashen forest, the dreary mist at my feet as I walked on further, the shadows of the forest growing dense around me. I began to run as I beheld the darkness consume everything around me. I fell and the blackness drew me in. Shutting my eyes in fear, a voice encouraged me to open them. A voice so sweet that it was in the very air I breathed, in the sun shining above me, and vibrating from the ground below. I opened my eyes and I found myself in a peaceful clearing in the forest, dressed in the robes of the Divine. Before me was the rose bush from the Lothering Chantry, with one beautiful white rose blooming on it. And beside it stood you Cullen, dressed in the templar armour of the Knight-Commander, cradling a newborn child in your arms. You looked into its eyes with the love of a father, and tears fell from mine. The child was perfect. A voice whispered to me that the unborn chosen of the Maker will one day walk the realm and reign as ruler of Thedas.’

Taking a sip of wine, Cullen examined his companion carefully as she appeared lost in a dream. Her eyes were dancing with hope now, and the anger had subsided. She seemed almost ethereal, a divine creature from a higher realm. A seraphim of the heavens, guardian of the Maker and a celestial warrior on the land of men.

‘Even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty.’ murmured Leliana as she approached the templar ‘Have faith.’. Placing a kiss on his neck, she added softly ‘You know your duty Cullen, and you know what the Maker expects of you. We understand that we are required to fulfil something more important than our own gratification now.’

‘Ophelia is more than gratification.’ defended Cullen ‘This is no surprise. I have never known you to show concern before now.’

‘Until Michel de Chevin left for the Western Approach I had no real cause to question anything.’ replied Leliana sharply ‘You and Ophelia quarrelled and bickered, and I saw the sadness in your eyes when she was with Michel. I foolishly intervened and kept him away. Then I saw the way you were with Ophelia for those few months. You both grew close, too close my dear raven. You love her.’

‘I never said otherwise.’ retorted Cullen stiffly, his jaw clenching now.

‘You loved me first.’ replied Leliana darkly ‘Never forget that. When we were in Greenfeel and I had the vision of us and our child, what did we do a few months later?’

‘You know what happened.’ muttered Cullen, taking a large sip of wine.

Leliana gently grasped his firm jaw, cupping it with her long and elegant hands as she looked deeply into Cullen’s eyes ‘What did we do, my love?’

‘We journeyed to the Chantry at Lothering and pledged ourselves to the Maker, before the corner rose bush in the Chantry’s garden.’ replied Cullen ‘We vowed, if it was his wish, to conceive the child when the time was right. When I became the Knight-Commander, and you the Divine.’

‘We pricked a drop of blood from our forefingers with a thorn from the rose, and sealed our union.’ reminisced Leliana with a fond smile ‘You bound yourself to me then Cullen, and I will not release you from that promise. My visions and the prophecy are all that matters. As the Maker is our witness, we swore an oath of secrecy to protect each other and fulfil the prophecy when the time was right. In our secrecy we knew how important this was. Even Justinia acknowledged that if anyone knew about what I had foreseen it would put both our lives at risk. It would mean risking the life of the Maker’s chosen. Yet now we have more to do it seems.’

‘More?’ frowned Cullen ‘What exactly did this latest vision of yours reveal?’

‘The Maker came to me and told me I will soon be appointed Divine.’ confirmed Leliana, calm as a queen ‘The time is upon us. I as the Divine and you as the head of the Templar Order. Our roles have been laid out, and so is our duty to perform. We must protect this child at all costs for when the child is of age, he or she will reign over Thedas as its one ruler.’

‘Ruler of Thedas?’ frowned Cullen ‘What of the kings and queens? Empresses and emperors?’

‘Mere pieces on a chess board.’ dismissed Leliana ‘Our child is the one playing the game.’

‘And yet even in chess it takes two people to play?’ pointed out Cullen.

Leliana pushed him in the arm, oblivious that the Commander was being serious ‘You are utterly impossible. No, in my vision I was in the forest again, and you were there holding the child as before. Yet now a small golden crown sat upon the head of the infant, and the baby was cloaked in the map of Thedas. I felt the voice of the Maker consume me, and tell me that the child would be the leader of all races. The one that would unite and bring all back to the Chantry and the Maker.’

‘Maker’s breath….’ murmured Cullen in disbelief ‘I do not question the Maker, but all races? That is impossible.’

‘The Maker knows all.’ replied Leliana, clasping Cullen’s hands affectionately ‘The prophecy of our child being the Maker’s chosen one, coming into the world through us. In truth I doubted it for so long, for I never had another vision of it after those eleven years. I began to wonder why my life had been spared in the Temple of Andraste, for I felt the Maker had forsaken the vision he had given me. In my shame I began to doubt myself.’. Looking up excitedly she smiled ‘But Cullen the Maker has spoken to me again and this time I have been told soon I will be appointed as Divine! At that moment we must fulfill the Maker’s wishes. You must sire this child the moment I take my rightful place, and you yours.’

‘So soon?’ hesitated Cullen ‘Surely not while we are at war with Corypheus?’

‘Our child would be the Maker’s chosen.’ Leliana remarked proudly ‘The greatest leader in all of Thedas, as it has been shown. One does not wait when the Maker says it must be.’

‘To sire such a child…you have no idea how many times I have thought upon the concept.’ replied Cullen, half to himself ‘I had just thought it would happen much later.’

‘The time comes closer to that day, Cullen. When I take my role as Divine, we shall be wed in front of the eyes of the people. Yet I cannot help but think someone may stand in the way when that time comes. Ophelia has a hold over you. Something we agreed we’d never let our submissives do.’

‘Leliana our relationship was never the most traditional, you must see that.’ pointed out Cullen ‘When we left Greenfeel it was you that refused to join me in Kirkwall to where I was stationed. It was you that told me we should go and enjoy the company of others. That was the way you wanted it to be. I then found Ophelia and I fell in love with her.’

Leliana pulled away from Cullen icily, refusing to acknowledge his sentiments.

‘I know it pains you to hear that…but I do.’ confessed Cullen gently, placing a tender hand on Leliana’s rigid forearm ‘Surely you have seen the good she has done for me?’

Drawing her arm away in disgust, Leliana looked livid. ‘And what of the good I have done for you?’ she replied in outrage. Leliana stepped closer to him, her steely gaze drawing his ‘You can fuck and love whoever you want, but know this; there is no escaping the Maker. He wants this, and if you resist his hand he will push you harder.’. Running her hand affectionately across Cullen’s face, she added softly ‘You need to let her go, my love. Remember, three may share a bed but never a marriage. A marriage awaits you now, and you know what you must do.’

****

Blurry was the hall becoming as I drank Blackwall’s special mulled mead, graciously gifted to me in a large polished drinking horn that he himself had crafted. The pointed tip was dipped in gold, and the rim embossed in silver, etched with the words; You are who you chose to follow. Lacking perhaps the outward sentiment of my other drunken well-wishers who insisted on smothering me with stained jerkins and sloshing sloppy kisses on my cheek, Blackwall simply handed me the gift with a brief, but friendly, nod. Pointing to the etched phrase on the horn, he added gruffly ‘Someone told me that once. Took me years to understand what it meant.’

Since receiving the gift I had stubbornly tried to convince myself that I knew exactly what the words meant. However after a long time of biting my nails and gnashing my lip, I came to the conclusion that my answer was too disturbing to be true. If I truly was leading, that meant I was following no one. And if I were following no one, then was it possible that I was nothing? Of course then there were the general causes I followed, perhaps suggesting I was the Inquisition? I was the mages of Thedas? Maybe I was Cullen at times? And if that were true, did that mean I was in fact following his causes in addition? I cursed the diabolical Blackwall for filling my head with riddles, and most likely knowing the more I drank the more I would ponder, and the more I pondered the more I would drink until I ended up in a shivering pile of utter confusion writhing on the ground, with no better answer than the one I had begun with.

Nevertheless it was a fine gift, although I was caught off guard as the big bearded Grey Warden returned back to me soon after with a white hot poker from the fires. Without warning, Blackwall plunged the poker into the liquid in my cup as I watched on in surprise. Apparently it was the proper way to heat mulled mead, and who was I to argue with a burly man standing over me with a hot iron.

In-between cryptic phrases on drinking horns and waiting for Cullen to return, I found myself at the mercy of a something much more terrifying. Before me and the other men and women, standing proud on the longest wooden table in the main hall, was Varric as he began to weave his tales to the eager crowd.

‘And so we came to the village at the crossroads in the Hinterlands, and there was a man sitting by a black and ominous cauldron, large and covered so what lay within was unknown.'. Varric looked around the captivated audience ‘He said he was a hunter.’

‘What did he want?’ asked a shabby looking peasant cradling a mug ‘Never trust ‘em hunters.’

Rolling my eyes, I took another sip of mead. How this story made it into Varric’s repertoire was beyond me. Having been there when it happened was tedious enough, let alone having to hear about it a second time round.

‘What did he want?’ remarked Varric, raising his arms dramatically ‘The man wanted…meat!’

The crowd gasped, and I chuckled at the response.

Varric settled down the crowd with a wave of his hand, taking a quick sip of his ale along the way. ‘Now I dunno about you lot,’ he called out ‘but have you ever seen the dangerous glint in a man’s eye when he is hungry? That’s bad enough, eh? Well this hunter’s eyes were unlike any I had ever seen. They were savage and unhuman, like a nug possessed by red lyrium.’

‘A nug possessed by red lyrium?’ I taunted ‘Wouldn’t a bear possessed have been better? Or a dragon?’

Varric waved off the comment ‘Well, we all knew we were facing something dangerous here with this hunter.’

‘He wanted ram meat for the refugees.’ I heckled ‘By the blazes, he was desperate and needed help!’

Varric smiled warmly as he took a step closer to me, using his foot to subtly nudge my horn and spill the amber liquid over me.

‘Hey!’ I protested with a grin.

‘Not when I’m working, birthday Inquisitorialness.’ he whispered down at me with a chuckle ‘You’re destroying the ambiance.’. Stepping back to the middle of the table, Varric outstretched his hands once more ‘So this hunter demands we get him meat or else! Now yes, he may have mentioned rams in the hills. Perhaps he mentioned helping the refugees. But you know what he was really saying? That evil glint in his eyes and that unnatural desire for meat was all I needed to know.’

‘What was ee sayin Varric?’ cried out a woman, pulling her sleeves across her mouth in fearful anticipation.

Varric nodded silently, letting the crowd fret, before raising his head ‘He wanted meat not for the refugees. He wanted the meat of the refugees themselves! That hunter was a man eating cannibal of terror!’

The crowd gasped, cries of shock and murmurings of horror. I took another sip to conceal my laughter. Hopefully no one stumbled across the poor man one day, innocently hunting game in the Hinterlands.

‘You think that was bad enough?’ cried out the dwarf animatedly ‘How many bodies do you think he wanted us to bring to him?’

‘Three!’ cried out a noble, raising his green handkerchief in the air.

‘Sivin! I’m taken bets for sivin.’ yelled out a peasant from the back.

In bewilderment, I watched on for several minutes or so as Varric took bets from the crowd. Who else but Varric would turn storyteller into bookie so effortlessly, making a wagon load of coin on the side to boot.

Finally Varric called out for final bets, and silence filled the room once more in eager anticipation. ‘Ten bodies.’ confirmed the rogue with a grin, rubbing his hands in delight as groans and a few cheers sounded in the audience.

‘That monster!’ yelled out a man, between the clink of coin being divvied up ‘Tell me you gave ‘im a bolt in the head matey?’

The rogue clicked his fingers at the man. ‘You see that’s the problem right there. The people in the village looked up to this hunter, you know what I’m saying? So if we kill him then we have a war on our hands.’. Varric crouched down to get closer to the crowd around the table ‘Now back in Kirkwall we have a saying; a war only achieves the one certainty in life. Death.’

The crowd murmured in agreement at the wise words of the dwarf as I pondered the familiar saying. Suddenly I looked sharply across to the rogue ‘Hang on, you don’t say that in Kirkwall! Michel de Chevin said that to Athalwolf and I at the crossroads on the Imperial Highway the other day. It is an Orlesian saying, and one you were not privy to at the time, master eavesdropper!’

‘What can I say?’ Varric chuckled, pointing towards me in accusation for all the crowd to see ‘Loose lips sinks ships.’

The crowd leered at me in disapproval and I threw up my hands in defeat ‘Okay sorry I only closed the rifts all over Thedas, saved the realm from the fate of Alexius, oh and I don’t know…a few other unimportant things along the way.’

Varric laughed ‘Oh you’ll need to do better than that. Let me tell my next story without interruptions and maybe, maybe, I’ll make you the hero that saved us from Corypheus at Haven.’

‘Wasn’t I the one that stayed behind and fired the trebuchet into the mountainside to cause an avalanche while faced with Corypheus and a rather largish high dragon?’ I asked in shock.

‘Minor details.’ replied Varric with a wink, turning back to the crowd. ‘Now seeing as that story has been run through by our Inquisitor, who wants to hear about the time I bested the Maister of Blades seven times over in a sword fight?’

Groaning, I took another sip before noticing the man himself walking at a furious pace towards our table. Michel’s blonde hair swept off his face as he approached swiftly, and the man’s chest was rising up and down as if he had covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time.

‘Oh Michel you’re just in time.’ I chuckled ‘Varric here-‘

‘Please you need to trust me, come now and come quick.’ whispered the ex-chevalier. Almost lifting me out of my chair with his strong arms, I looked at my companion in startle.

‘Whatever is the matter?’ I asked as Michel grabbed my hand firmly and turned to leave.

‘Guys you’re gonna miss the best part!’ protested Varric as I was pulled away ‘Goldilocks you’re killing me here. I could have used you for the re-enactment!’

Unable to respond to the rogue, I found myself being whisked into a fast pace down the hall. Stumbling over feet and knocking into chairs and tables, spilling a few drinks in passing and tripping over a few passed out inebriated soldiers, I clambered along trying to get the attention the ex-chevalier.

‘Michel what is it? Is Skyhold under attack?’ I whispered fearfully as we descended the stairs into the quiet courtyard ‘Michel, you’re scaring me.’

The chevalier stopped for a moment, his eyes looking emotional as he looked to me. ‘Skyhold is fine.’ reassured Michel. Pinching his bottom lip, he hesitated for a moment ‘Ophelia…I am so sorry to do this to you, but there is something you need to see and we cannot waste another moment.’

Moving along once more, I followed on quickly.

‘This isn’t one of your duties as champion?’ I mused, somewhat uncertainly ‘Not that I don’t appreciate the spontaneity and all, it’s just all a little too mysterious for my liking.’

The hardened look on Michel’s face held fast as he pushed on, and it was apparent the man was not interested in banter. Never had I seen him like this as he led me across the courtyard and up the stone steps of the battlements. Taking a sharp left turn, I now realised where we were heading and pulled back against my companion with all my strength.

‘Why are we going to Cullen’s study?’ I asked ‘Oh no Michel, what is going on? Damn it, you will stop right now and answer me!’

Michel finally paused in the courtyard outside the study. Pointing to the door, he whispered hastily ‘You need to see what they have been hiding from you.’. Walking up to the door, Michel banged on the wood loudly. ‘Cullen open up, I know you are in there.’ he shouted.

A few moments passed, and a few more bangs were bestowed on the oak before the door finally clicked and swung open. We were greeted by Cullen looking sternly back at Michel.

‘This had better be good.’ remarked an annoyed Cullen ‘I don’t take kindly to soldiers knocking down my door and barking orders.’. The Commander’s eyes softened as he then saw me standing behind Michel. ‘Ophelia,’ Cullen remarked gently ‘why aren’t you enjoying your celebrations back in the hall? I promise I will be there soon.’

Michel threw a scathing look at the templar ‘Oh yes keep Ophelia in the hall so you can enjoy your company in peace no doubt? Tell us, who are you entertaining back there with the doors locked and curtains drawn?’

Narrowing his eyes on the man before him, Cullen crossed him arms slowly ‘Were you spying on me?’

‘Is there a problem, Maister of Blades?’ called out Leliana’s voice coming from within the room.

Noticing a few guards peering from across the battlements and drawn to the noise, Cullen cursed under his breath. ‘Will you both come inside to avoid a spectacle.’ muttered Cullen, letting Michel and I pass.

Leliana was sitting at the study desk perusing some parchments as we entered the room. She looked up briefly, throwing us a sharp nod.

‘Cullen and I were just going over the Chantry orders releasing Ostagar into the hands of the Templar Order.’ replied Leliana wearily ‘I received word from Queen Anora saying she has no qualms with the Order re-establishing itself in Ferelden, but the annoying woman wants to be informed of every minute detail. Happy to gift the land to the Chantry but it seems she is still attached to any business conducted there. Remind me to send her a bottle of Alvarado’s Bathtub Boot Screech as a thank you.’

‘Stop all these games.’ replied Michel sternly ‘You were not going over any documents, so spare us the song and dance.’

‘Michel what is going on?’ I asked, completely confused. From what I could see Cullen and Leliana were doing just what they said. A table scattered with letters, and a burning candle sitting on the table next to a quill freshly dipped in ink.

‘A better question I have yet to hear.’ agreed Cullen ‘Enlighten us, Michel, on what you believe was going on?’

‘Does Ophelia know about you both?’ asked Michel with disdain ‘I am guessing not, considering her reception towards you back in the hall just then.’

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head ‘So you were spying on me back there as well? Did your knightly ego take a gut full seeing Ophelia and I together once more? I must say though, you are thorough! Leliana you may be out of a job soon’.

Leliana raised a brow towards the displeased ex-chevalier.

Drawing a steely glare to the Orlesian, Cullen added ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

Moving closer to the Commander, Michel looked like he was about to take a swing at the man ‘Ophelia, I saw Leliana and Cullen in the hall when I went to speak to them earlier. Leliana left, and Cullen looked me straight in the eye and said he was not going to see her. I followed Cullen when he left, and lo and behold I find them both meeting in secret.’

‘So my desire for privacy somehow renders my guilt?’ scoffed Cullen, shaking his head in reproach. ‘Leliana came to my study to wait until I returned, as I do often, to attend to business.’ added Cullen sternly ‘She wanted to talk to the only other person in Skyhold who knows Sierra Amell. As I said before, it is a delicate matter between the pair. Thank you for bringing it up in front of her again.’

‘I saw Leliana groping Cullen in the hall.’ added Michel darkly ‘Her hands were mauling his thigh like a drunk Orlesian courtier.’

‘What?!’ I blurted out, looking over at the pair who remained expressionless apart from a small smirk on both their lips.

‘Leliana’s fingers?’ asked Michel to Cullen ‘Was that attending to business also?’

‘Cullen?’ I asked doubtfully ‘What is he talking about?’

Cullen shrugged, running his eyes up and down the man with disdain ‘Sufficed to say I have no idea what the man is talking about on the best of days. Michel, you must have seen something that was not there. Or that bored Orlesian knightly imagination of yours is running wild.’

Michel threw him a disgusted look ‘Of all the years I listened to fabrications and half-told truths in the Orlesians Courts, yours just then was the most unconvincing of them all.’

Leliana shook her head, returning her attention to peruse the letter on the table ‘Michel if you knew Cullen and I you would know we have been friends for many years. I confide in him on numerous matters, one being Sierra just before and now this rather dreary letter before us.’

‘You are embarrassing yourself, Michel.’ added Cullen. The templar looked towards me ‘Now if you’ll excuse us, Ophelia and I should return to the main hall to continue her festivities. Hopefully this childish display from our Maister of Blades has not ruined the night.’

Michel grabbed Cullen’s arm roughly as the templar tried to pass. Eyes blazed with fury, Cullen roughly shoved the man in the chest, pushing him back a few paces.

The Maister of Blades shook his head in disgust ‘You are a cur and a liar. How can you do this to her? She adores you and this is how you repay her? With lies and deception?’

‘You are mistaken.’ scorned Cullen, adding dangerously ‘I would be very careful on your next move soldier.’

‘Okay let’s just take a moment to breathe here.’ I interjected hastily, stepping in-between the men ‘Obviously we’ve all had a few drinks and well, it’s not secret we don’t all get along even when we’re straight laced. Perhaps we should just go back to the hall and start over? Blackwall’s cracked open a barrel of his mead and Varric is telling horrible stories that will soon distract you both.’

‘Ophelia open your eyes!’ Michel remarked heatedly ‘Do you not see it on their faces? It is a mask of lies. They are deceiving you, me, and everyone around them.’

‘You have told your fair share of lies to be pointing the finger, no?’ remarked Leliana frostily.

‘Michel, let me talk to Cullen.’ I pleaded, knowing the Orlesian would only end up in the cells for insubordination if he continued to assault the Commander. Perhaps he was protecting me, but I knew I needed to protect him.

Michel stood firm, eyeballing the Commander.

Turning to Michel, I placed a friendly hand on his chest. ‘Please, my friend,’ I whispered ‘I need you to go.’. Grabbing his hand, I gently led the ex-chevalier away to the door ‘I know you wouldn’t say all this if you did not truly believe it. Ma serannas, falon.’

Michel looked into my eyes, appealing for reason ‘If only out of respect for you and your wishes, I shall now go. Please do not let them crawl their way out of this.’. Looking up at Cullen and Leliana, Michel added darkly ‘Do the right thing and be honest with her. Do it, or I will make sure you never hurt her again.’

‘Get out or I call the guards.’ warned Leliana ‘You are way out of line now. Threaten either us again and I will make sure you are returned to Celene in a silver cage, my pretty golden bird.’

‘Dirthara-ma.’ replied Michel coldly before storming out of the room. I could hear a wooden paling being kicked outside as the man departed. Never had I seen Michel so furious, and it frightened me. Could what he was saying be true? Even I had had my suspicions about Leliana and Cullen in former days.

‘So you and Michel speak elvish to one another?’ observed Leliana pleasantly ‘You must have experienced a great deal of things when you were together? That must have been very special for you both.’

Cullen shifted in annoyance at the remark, throwing a dark look at Leliana.

‘I merely said my thanks friend.’ I replied coldly, ‘As for what Michel said, I cannot say.’

Leliana kept on looking at me with a smirk, and I found the only way to escape it was to address Cullen and avoid her altogether.

‘Is it true, even if in the most innocent of ways?’ I asked, turning to the Commander ‘I wouldn’t be angry. I know you two have a playful friendship, I’ve seen it before and mistakenly thought more of it. Or…maybe Michel saw Leliana drop a napkin and place her hand on your thigh?’. The pair continued to look silently at me. ‘Come on, help me out here!’ I remarked in frustration ‘I know you dislike the man but he obviously saw something to cause that reaction?’

Leliana looked over to Cullen curiously, waiting for the Commander to answer.

Cullen shook his head wearily ‘It is obvious Michel is upset by something else, or as you noted we have all had a few too many drinks. Wouldn’t you agree Leliana?’

Leliana looked annoyed, but nodded with a smile ‘Most likely a ploy to get Ophelia back into his bed. Pity the man has several already warming his sheets already.’

‘Excuse me?’ I replied sharply, vexed at the snide comment.

‘Look at the way he woos women around the keep.’ pointed out the spymaster ‘Ophelia, my little dove, I am sorry to taint the name of your favourite but I do not think you know how popular the man is, or indeed the company that he keeps. Fay the seamstress is one of his regulars, you can go and ask her right now and she will confirm it.’

‘Leliana you know nothing about Michel.’ I replied angrily ‘I am growing tired of this attack on him.’

The woman leant back in her chair with a wide smile ‘No attack, I assure you. Not that it is any of my business but the best way to ensure Michel does not stray is to give him what he wants. I can see the way you both look at each other. You would like that, no?’

‘Come,’ said Cullen suddenly, flashing a displeased look at the spymaster as he gently reached for my hand ‘let us talk back in the hall.’

‘We can all talk here.’ replied Leliana sharply ‘I am sure all can be clarified and put to rest. Put an end to this now.’

The templar threw her a stern glance ‘I will speak to Ophelia alone.’

‘Fine.’ replied Leliana coldly, rising from the desk and passing us abruptly ‘I will be in the main hall celebrating Ophelia’s birthday if anyone needs me.’. Pausing momentarily, the ginger haired women flashed an amused smile towards Cullen and I. ‘Do not worry yourselves over this too much,’ she reassured pleasantly ‘true love always has a habit of coming back.’

Cullen shook his head, turning back to look at me as Leliana left us to ourselves. He looked genuinely concerned, and that in turn made me equally so.

‘Cullen I know you too well to know something troubling is happening here.’ I whispered ‘Talk to me. Let us go have a drink in the hall.’

Running his eyes around the room with displeasure, he nodded. ‘I wish for any place away from here tonight,’ murmured Cullen bitterly, heading for the door ‘Come let us go return to your celebrations.’


	42. Drinks with Lovers and Enemies

  
  


Settled at an isolated table in the corner of the keep, I watched as Cullen sat beside me quietly. We drank our first two glasses of wine in silence, and the longer we sat there the more unbearable it became. Not a word had been exchanged since we left his study, and yet that heavy cloud of despondency was evident whenever I threw him a quick glance.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I asked finally, breaking the silence ‘Are you all right?’

Cullen shook his head, throwing me a solemn look ‘No, sufficed to say I am not.’. Rubbing his eyes wearily, the templar looked exhausted. ‘There are…things that need to be said.’

Drawing a shaky breath, I braced myself.

‘Oh Ophelia.’ murmured Cullen ‘I’ve found myself caught in a situation that has haunted me for too long, tangled now and unable to escape. The worst part is I fear you are entangled in it too.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked in surprise ‘What am I involved in?’

‘Do not touch gilded figures lest they leave tainted residue upon the tips of your fingers.’ whispered Cullen to himself as he looked deep into his cup ‘Maker be damned, if I hold any power over my own destiny then it let it be now.’

‘Cullen?’ I began uncertainly.

The Commander suddenly grabbed my hands in his, his eyes dancing with a glimmer of hope. ‘Come away with me tonight.’ he remarked exuberantly ‘Let us leave this place and never look back. We will find a place to live far away from everyone we know, safe and alone. Perhaps near Monteville or Balmoral, no one ventures up into the hills lest they live there? We can go somewhere they cannot find us, and we can have a life together. For you love me, do you not? And I love you. How simple would that be Ophelia, if we could just leave all this behind and live our lives the way we wanted? The way we choose.’

‘Run away?’ I hesitated, growing more and more baffled by the moment ‘What about your templar Order? Of the Inquisition? Cullen, are you in trouble? What is going on?’

The templar sighed and turned away, staring blankly down at the cup before him like a limp puppet. ‘Dreams dreamt were lived by others, in perfect worlds mine did crumble.’ he mourned. His soft amber eyes that were so hopeful a moment before now grew despondent as he looked towards me again ‘Indeed you are right, there is a lot that you need to know and I would wish to tell you everything when we are both sober.’ Draining his cup, he placed it heavy on the table. ‘Tomorrow, the place on the battlements where I go to escape. Will you meet me there at sunrise?’

‘If you have something to say just say it.’ I frowned ‘Tomorrow or now, what difference does it make?’

‘Please trust me on this,’ replied Cullen sadly ‘it will take more time to explain than over a few drinks and I fear my head is already cloudy. You will need a clear head to hear what I have to say. Maker knows even then you’ll never fathom half of it.’. Drawing his hand fondly through my hair he whispered ‘Please give me one more peaceful night, my dear sweet Ophelia. Let me sleep once more knowing I was in your heart.’

My heart did indeed melt at his words, so soft and tender. Yet those words were foreboding, a chilling reminder that whatever he was to say was not good news. Those cursed words made me want to cry and smile all at the same time.

‘We could go to my chambers?’ I suggested ‘Speak more in private?’

‘No.’ replied Cullen sharply ‘I would speak to you of these matters before, if ever, we speak in private.’. Standing up, he threw his eyes around the half empty hall ‘I am sorry about how this night ended for you. I am sorry for so much more….’

‘Wait.’ I called out, following Cullen a few steps behind as he departed. The templar turned as I drew up and placed a kiss on his lips. Cullen wrapped his hands around my waist, holding on tight as if never wanting to let go. Running my hands across his soft temples, and down his cheeks I cupped them affectionately. ‘I love you Cullen.’ I whispered ‘Whatever happens tomorrow, I need you to know that.’

‘I love you too Ophelia,’ replied Cullen ardently, kissing me tenderly on the forehead ‘more than anything in this world.’

Scooping me back in his large arms, I felt the templar embrace me tight again. Releasing me suddenly, Cullen walked away towards the main doors and departed into the night. Biting my lip I retreated in the opposite direction, fearing the sun that would rise all too soon.

****

For the time it took Leliana to drink through an entire bottle of wine, a mage had been watching her carefully from afar. She sat alone at a table in silence, throwing her eyes towards the corner of the main hall every now and then. Jowan noticed she was definitely looking at where Commander Cullen and the Inquisitor were drinking wine in silence also. To his surprise and intrigue, each time the Spymaster looked over at the party she drank deeper from her cup. It was gulp after gulp of raw emotion, desperate to be dulled and yet somehow the wine had not eased the woman in the slightest. Every swallow was intense, as if she were consuming water from a flask after a long and hard ride, rather than entertaining a fine wine. Eventually Cullen departed the hall and the spymaster seemed to calm a little, although her hours of drinking were still ripe. With a sharp tug, she pulled the cork from the second bottle and began to pour.

‘In drunken stupor let my friendship blossom.’ murmured Jowan under his breath as he proceeded towards the Spymaster.

Approaching slowly with an empty cup in his hand, Jowan drew a chair beside the spymaster with a pleasant smile.

Leliana turned her sharp gaze on the mage, displeased at the company.

Jowan chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I am terribly sorry Leliana, I was trying to escape Dagna talking about the ancient tomes of Fjolnord, and saw you were alone. Just between you and me, Dagna confessed to me once that you make her uneasy, and well, I saw an opportunity I could not pass up. However my main reason was hopefully to get a glass of the Abyssal Peach. You have no idea how I miss a good Orlesian wine.’

‘One item on a long list that I miss about Orlais.’ muttered Leliana, running her eyes around the hall ‘Skyhold is full of strength and character but lacking elegance and order. A man easily forgets his duty in a place like this, and that is never a good thing.’

‘I am sorry…if this is a bad time?’ hesitated Jowan, noticing Leliana was visibly upset from the slight moisture in her eyes ‘May I be so bold as to ask what is the matter? Perhaps I can be of some assistance?’

Leliana waved her hand, drinking deeply to drain the entire cup of sweet wine in her hand. ‘Tell me Athalwolf, have you ever found yourself in the possession of a pretty gem?’ she asked rigidly ‘It sparkles and dazzles your eyes, for it is so precious to you, and you love it dearly. You love it so that you watch over it possessively. And then one day you lose it, a careless action that results in the loss of your one treasure and fearfully you search for it only to realise it is too late. Alas it has gone, and you are left only with a memory. And the knowledge that someone else is now enjoying what is rightfully yours.’

Shifting in his seat, Jowan hesitated. He would have to be a blundering dotard not to realise this gem Leliana spoke of was Cullen, or possibly Ophelia. Either way, it was perplexing to say the least.

Leliana shook her head bitterly ‘Of course you have no idea what I speak of.’

‘No not true.’ murmured Jowan, deciding to reveal his host’s secrets in order to gain the trust of his companion. Running his hands through his black curly hair, he sighed ‘I had a pretty pearl once, flawless and perfect. Forbidden to touch and yet touch it I did. Over and over again…I can still remember the way the pearl felt beneath my fingers. I loved that pearl with all my heart.’. Jowan grew quiet, staring at the table before him.

Leliana poured some wine into his chalice ‘The Maker has Mabel by his side now.’ she reassured gently in knowing.

The pair grew silent as they both drew long sips of wine.

‘Do my confessions revolt you?’ muttered Jowan ‘The Ferelden people are not so accepting of such behaviour. It is seen as a disgrace I believe.’

Leliana turned her gaze across the room to where a rogue and a Seeker enjoyed themselves. Merrily they sloshed toasts of amber ale, cackling in delight as they played a game of darts before the fireplace. Every time Varric lost, which appeared on each turn, he was forced to drink from his cup. Playfully he would then demand Cassandra keep up with his drinking, which she most happily obliged. The pair were intoxicated, and unbearably happy and content in each other’s company.

‘Love comes to the most unlikely of contenders.’ remarked Leliana with a small smile on her lips ‘Who are we to judge such things?’. Looking over to Jowan, Leliana shook her head. ‘Of course you do not revolt me. You both loved each other. In truth, I have been to many Orlesian weddings where the cousins have been betrothed.’

‘Cousins and siblings are different matters.’ replied Jowan, draining his cup ‘Mabel was my forbidden delight, as I was hers….and now she is nothing.’

Her lips pouting with a slight tremor, Leliana looked dismal ‘It should never have been so, I am sorry Athalwolf.’

‘I did not intend to make you feel more miserable.’ remarked Jowan ‘I fear I am a terrible companion.’. Looking up to the spymaster, he added ‘What has your gem done?’

Leliana’s eyes narrowed as her thoughts returned to where she had been before her company distracted her ‘There is someone else who would keep him, and I do not want to share this gem.’

‘What of the gem?’ asked Jowan, taking a sip ‘Where does the gem wish to be?’

Leliana frowned ‘Just because a ruby falls from the claw of a ring does not mean it wants to be placed into another setting. The jewel slips away and for a moment gets a taste of things that it should not taste as it falls loosely onto the ground below. The claws need tightening, that is all.’

‘I see.’ murmured Jowan ‘I suppose I know little of the hearts of others, but I can tell you this. Were you to find someone who loved you and you they, I would hold on to them tightly and never let them go. My love is gone and no one will replace her…no one should have to wake up to that reality every morning and go to sleep with that last thought on their mind.’. Lost in his melancholy, Jowan realised he was no longer talking about Mabel. Every day he thought about his dear sweet Lily, and every day he felt lonelier for it. Jowan stared miserably into the light orange of the wine, trying to gather himself once more. Taking another sip, he flashed Leliana a smile ‘The Abyssal Peach is a dessert wine, is it not?’

‘Yes it is much sweeter than even your average Orlesian dessert wine, like drinking a cup of sugar water. I like that very much.’ confessed the spymaster.

Jowan nodded in agreement ‘Between drinking Garbolg’s Backcountry Reserve and Chasind Sack Mead, I believe I am in your debt for such a delight.’

Leliana giggled, taking another sip ‘Oh my dear man, you do not know what you are saying.’

‘No indeed I am a man of my word.’ remarked Jowan playfully, running his fingers across his lips ‘Your kindness and hospitality are most appreciated.’

With a mischievous eye, Leliana looked upon the mage with a smile. ‘You have very pretty features Athalwolf,’ she observed ‘as I have been told in former years by more than half the court in Orlais.’

‘Only half?’ mused the mage.

Leliana smiled, looking over him ‘Dark eyes like the black brumbies of the Rourkestone Mountains, and that adorable mop of hair as dark as a blackbird’s wing. Your skin is as fresh and white as the linen on the Empress’s bed.’

Rubbing his shoulder, Jowan turned his face away with a bashful chuckle. Taking a sip of wine, he drew his eyes back to the grinning green.

‘I’ve embarrassed you.’ giggled Leliana, taking another several sips herself ‘You are very cute when you are embarrassed. That is quite agreeable.’

‘It is nice to speak to someone a little more relaxed.’ replied Jowan pleasantly ‘It reminds me of the playful whispers at the Winter Palace. I miss it sometimes.’

‘And who would you whisper naughty secrets to?’ asked Leliana with a smirk.

‘I suppose I have a type.’ confessed Jowan slyly ‘They are far and few between however.’

Leliana raised her brow, drawing near ‘Oh? What attracts you, my lord?’

‘Well,’ he murmured, looking down and running his hand gently across the bench ‘I fear to say it lest it make us both blush. Perhaps we should leave it at that.’

Leliana poured Jowan and herself more wine ‘For you, I promise I will not blush.’

‘One of the most beautiful sights I ever beheld was a snow covered mountain near our manor in Orlais, during winter.’ confessed Jowan ‘Freckled with stones, the mountain strong yet refined, and at the peak a beacon of fire was lit. Perfection in its simplicity, and yet seeing fire and ice and stone in such a form left me breathless. In the form of flesh, such a woman is intoxication itself.’

‘Fancy that?’ smiled Leliana, taking a pleased sip ‘Although to be called a mountain may be taken the wrong way by some.’

Jowan chuckled ‘My apologies, it was intended to be the opposite. I suppose that is why I was a court mage and not a chevalier.’

‘It would be no secret I suppose to admit I take a fancy to pretty Orlesian nobles.’ admitted Leliana ‘In addition, I hear so much about the delights of mages these days…I often wondered what one would be like in bed?’. With more than a little disdain in her voice she added ‘It must be something special.’

Jowan took another sip, pretending to be embarrassed yet his heart was beating with excitement. A moment of opportune was paying itself off better than he had ever hoped. It was now or never.

‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’ whispered Leliana in Jowan’s ear ‘Would it make you feel uncomfortable if I said I wondered how it would feel to wrap my hands around that gorgeous concealed cock of yours?’

Drawing a deep breath, Jowan smiled back at the spymaster. ‘Not in the slightest. I can see why you miss the Orlesian courts.’ added Jowan ‘We do not conceal our desires as our southern neighbours do.’

‘Ugh.’ dismissed Leliana ‘The colder the climate, the more frigid they get.’

‘Then we Orlesians are in good company.’ remarked Jowan pleasantly ‘Your curious mind can be appeased, if it would make you happy?’

Leliana drew her fingers in her pocket and withdrew a copper key which she placed delicately on the table.

‘Do you know where my chambers are?’ asked Leliana ‘Above the library in the rookery, and into the first door on the left. Nights like this can be cold, wouldn’t you agree? If you desire some warmth, that not even a beacon on a mountain could compete with, perhaps I shall see you there soon? If not, leave the key here and one of the staff will find it before too long. No harm done either way, the choice is yours.’

Jowan grinned at the woman ‘How will you get into your room if I have the key?’

Flashing him a wicked look, Leliana brought a finger up to her lips ‘A proper Orlesian courtesan always make a habit of carrying two sets of keys to one’s boudoir. You never know when you may need a spare.’

Stroking his arm seductively as she passed, the spymaster departed.

Watching Leliana walk off, Jowan continued to sip his wine in solitude. If ever the fates were smiling on him, it was this night. However it did not mean that he had to smile back. His fingers moved towards the key before hesitating. Pulling back, Jowan sighed wearily.

‘Hefty is the heart of the deceiver.’ he muttered with displeasure.

Arising promptly, the mage set off at a determined pace…leaving the copper key behind on the table.


	43. In Penitence

  
  


A pair of crystal glasses and a deep blue bottle in one hand, a brown cloth package in the other, the mage wove nimbly through the dimness of the rooms. Thankfully Solas was not in his study, somewhat surprising considering the elf seemed to sleep very little. Every now and then the soft clink of crystal would chime in the silence as Jowan ascended the dark spiralling staircase, finally entering into the library. A content smile crossed his lips as he relished the scent of parchment, tomes and aged leather; of dust, words and solitude coming together in perfect harmony.

Such simple pleasures in former days, had things been different Jowan would have lived a modest life where a tome and a glass of port would have been his most pressing concern. Things could have been so very different. If circumstances had been disparate perhaps both he and Athalwolf would have walked a happier path? A humble yet content existence away from the ostentatious parade of socialites that filled his host’s mind. Of people who incessantly troubled themselves over the opinions of others, of status and material wealth; sentiments that were frivolous at best, yet unfortunately were the very essence of one’s self-worth in the Orlesian society. A debauchery of glut and greed, of puffed chested fools preoccupied with the image staring back at them from the looking glass and yet never entertaining the eyes that revealed a glimpse into their shallow souls.

Perhaps that was the way of an Orlesian noble, yet Jowan could not claim a superior character in his own shell. Seeking knowledge and power from the foulest of beings, entertaining demons to further his own interests. For the sacrifice of morality was a small price to pay in both Jowan’s and Athalwolf’s world. Men and women all tied to the same fate, all blissfully unaware that each and every one of them were mere echoes of the same being.

Taking a deep breath, Jowan ascended the stairs from the library, spiralling further up until he reached the rookery. The flapping of unsettled feathers, an occasional caw caw, and sharp eyes turned hard upon the intruder as his boots tapped hard on the tired wooden floorboards. Ever watchful but silent, the ravens nested amongst the rafters and observed him from a distance.

Placing the small cloth package behind a crate, Jowan moved towards the first door on the left. Knocking two long knocks and three short in a little playful tune of taps, he shifted uneasily from leg to leg as he waited. For a moment he was convinced there was no one within until finally the sound of a lock clicking brought his attention back to the door.

The oak groaned on its hinges and opened a fraction. Leliana peered out, a raised brow and a curl on her lips.

‘Well,’ she remarked primly ‘the little blackbird has arrived late and with no key?’

‘May I confess something?’ smiled Jowan bashfully.

The spymaster ran her hands through her ginger hair, her slender fingers trailing through the fine tresses that fell down past her shoulders. ‘As you wish.’ she replied nonchalantly, a flicker of playfulness in her eyes as she waited for his confession.

‘I found myself wanting to come up here the moment you left…but instead I returned to my chambers, telling myself a thousand reasons not to venture up here. We work together, we have to see each other each day, and so forth. However I knew deep down that was not the reason I hesitated. You are enchanting Leliana, I feared to come up here lest you would turn me away.’

‘Yet you came?’ she smirked, noticing Jowan’s bashfulness refusing to subside as he looked on the ground once more ‘Do I make you uneasy?’

Flashing his dark eyes into hers, Jowan threw her a predatory look ‘Yes…but in a good way.’

‘Good.’ Leliana grinned. The Spymaster opened the door to fully to reveal herself dressed in a thin dress, the silhouette of her fine hourglass naked figure staring back at him. Noticing the mage’s eyes pressed hard on her body before turning politely away, she giggled. Running her fingers seductively along her hips, Leliana added ‘Oh do not act surprised, I was in bed after all. Do you like my chemise? It is made of pure Orlesian silk gauze, so fine that it reveals all while still concealing all. A fascinating concept, no?’

‘It is very beautiful.’ replied the mage, still averting his eyes.

A titter on her lips, Leliana drew her forefinger to run lightly along his jaw, bringing his eyes back to her ‘Oh yes, you are very cute when embarrassed. Come in Athalwolf.’

Chest pounding like the steady beat of a drummer boy in battle, the man entered into a grandiose, if not exhibitionistic, chamber. Something Jowan expected to find in a royal boudoir rather than an old room at the top of a rookery. A fine Orlesian mahogany bed painted in crisp white lay in the middle of the room, its large headboard carved with flowers and flanked by a pair of turned fluted columns. The foot of the bed held another wooden board carved with ribbons and flowers, swirling in-between each other in a romantic and elegant way. Adorning the bed were soft white sheets and a purple velvet throw draped leisurely over the edge. To Jowan’s surprise, the chamber was very sensual and extravagant, the opposite of the flinty persona Leliana held outwardly to the people of Skyhold and beyond. A gold dressing table resided in the corner, with a grand oval mirror on top. The table was coated in necklaces, rings, feathers, strips of delicate lace, and trinket boxes; heavily laden with keepsakes. Turning his attention past the thick red velvet curtains that covered a long and narrow window on the left side of the room, he found himself amazed to see shelf upon shelf of shoes. Shoes of glass, fur, painted leather, ones with metal heels, and some shoes with ribbons, boots with feathers and heels so high he wondered how anyone could possibly stand in them let alone walk.

‘Is this a portal into the Imperial Palace?’ remarked Jowan in jest ‘Really Leliana, now you are just making me homesick all the more.’

Smiling, she waved a hand flippantly in the air ‘A little piece of home, although naturally any respectable Royan would look down at the state of these floors. No matter how many carpets I drape across them, I can still feel the unforgiving harshness of southern redwood. I had no choice but to decorate the entire room in Orlesian trappings to distract myself. Ferelden furnishings are so oaky and hard.’

‘And I am more glad for it.’ chuckled Jowan ‘It is just the place to enjoy a fine claret from the vineyards of Lapin. La Forêt Rouge. To make amends for my silliness?’

Jowan jiggled the glasses and bottle with a mischievous grin.

'La Forêt Rouge?’ gasped Leliana, prying the bottle from the man ‘How did you get this all the way down here?’

‘I may not have as many lovely shoes in my room, but I do keep a small cellar in its stead brought back with me from Ashcombe Estate.’ replied Jowan, retrieving the fine blue bottle and delicately easing the cork from the neck. Pouring the wine into the glasses, he offered one to Leliana ‘To Orlesian interludes.’

Leliana smiled, taking the glass and raising it to her companion. They both enjoyed a sip, relishing in the first taste.

‘Oh this is even better than I recall.’ she moaned dreamily, retreating to her bed with a wicked smile. ‘I remember the first time I tried La Forêt Rouge, it was back when I was fifteen. Lady Cecilie was throwing a lavish dinner party and serving this to all the guests. When they retired to the parlour after the main course, I snuck in and took my first sip. It tickled and fizzed on my tongue, and made me feel as light as a feather and drunk as a dwarf. I danced on the stone terrace all night in my blue silken nightgown, feeling like an Empress waltzing in the Winter Palace, and ugh by the morning I was sick as a dog. Ah but that flighty moment in-between was ever so sweet.’

‘I recall father always making too many toasts when he indulged in this.’ chuckled Jowan, pouring them both some more ‘He would look across the table sternly, demanding the silence of the room and then break out in bouts of uncontrollable laughter!’

Leliana grinned, accepting more in her glass ‘I admit I would love to see that side of the Lord Byron Guildersleeve. Such an austere man ruling over the entire Chevalier Order back in the day, I doubt anyone has seen another side to the man except those living behind his walls.’

‘Trust me,’ groaned Jowan, taking a sip ‘it was the claret and not a concealed jovial disposition. Father was born a stern man.’

‘And is Brannigan like his father?’ asked Leliana curiously ‘It must have been hard for you to be the only son not to follow in the steps of your forefathers?’

Jowan shrugged, taking a sip ‘My brother and father may be apart of an Order I will never entertain because of the arcane abilities I possess, but I hardly see the point of taking a role only because your family has been doing so for centuries. Where is the sense in that? Brannigan was forced into that role, at least I had an excuse to avoid going down that path.’

‘Some people desire order in their life.’ observed Leliana ‘Others find the opposite to be more agreeable.’ Resting on her elbows, she lay back against the soft white cushions. ‘Take off your clothes.’ she ordered.

Jowan hesitated, chuckling at what he thought was a joke from his companion.

Taking a sip, Leliana remained elegantly poised in her position. ‘I am waiting Athalwolf.’ she remarked calming ‘Now be a good boy and do as you’re told. Take them off for me.’

Looking around the room, Jowan felt apprehensive at the request but had little choice but to oblige.

‘It seems I am to undress then.’ chuckled Jowan as he placed his glass down on the table, looking over to a smirking Leliana.

Raising his hands to his torso, the mage commenced unbuttoning his black velvet jerkin, easing out of it and letting it drop softly to the ground. Now revealing his black tunic underneath, Jowan pulled the loose cotton garment over his head to reveal the snow white smooth skin of his chest. He held a thin but muscular frame, trim and elegant. A body of a gentleman rather than a warrior.

Leliana smiled, taking another sip as she relished the display before her ‘Good, now take off the rest.’

Jowan chuckled bashfully, looking down through his mop of black curls to unbuckle his belt and pull down his black trousers. To his displeasure he noticed what he had felt stirring since he had seen Leliana’s naked figure beneath that chemise. A semi-aroused package in his undergarments. Looking over to the woman, he could not help enjoy the figure of Leliana draped across the bed. Her long legs and firm thighs, the curve of her hip and her full breasts pressing hard through the sheerness of the material. All of her features were teasing despite his intentions. With a shaky breath Jowan return back to the task at hand.

Stepping out of his trousers, all that was left was to pull down his under garments. A simple yet tricky thing to do. He could feel the green eyes of Leliana painfully watching him as he hooked his thumbs into the band and slowly eased his pants down. To his shame his cock sprung out hard, slapping against his abdomen.

‘Exquisite.’ remarked Leliana cheerfully ‘That wasn’t too hard, no?’

Jowan stood breathlessly as Leliana ran her eyes over his naked body. It was not what he had planned, and he did not know why he was so aroused considering all things. Jowan felt like he was betraying Lily, and everything they stood for. It felt wrong, and yet he could not settle that throbbing urge pulsing in his shaft. Jowan began to walk over to Leliana but she raised her hand sharply.

‘No.’ she ordered ‘Stay in the middle of the room. I want to watch you stroke yourself first.’

Raising his brows in surprise, Jowan remarked sheepishly ‘Here? Standing in the middle of the room?’

‘Where else?’ smiled Leliana, taking a sip of the claret ‘Keep your eyes focused on mine and do not let them stray for a moment.’

Hesitantly the mage raised his right hand to his shaft, wrapping his hand around the warm top of his member, his thumb placed on its head. It twinged as it felt contact, and Jowan shifted uneasily. Leliana had revealed a side to him that was surprising to say the least.

‘Look into my eyes Athalwolf.’ purred Leliana, sitting up now as she stared back with her full attention ‘Start stroking.’

Gently rubbing up and down, a small moan escaped his lips as he looked at Leliana watching him. This perverse little game was making him ache and it was wrong. Yet the mage could not stop even if he wanted to as he felt himself growing harder and harder at each shake of his hand. Growing more excited as he felt Leliana’s attention pressed hard on him as he stood there so raw and vulnerable. All thoughts and concerns of his slowly faded as he felt his warm cock come to life, surging with blood.

Keeping his eyes on the spymaster, Jowan noticed her eyes slightly lull before opening again. Leliana shifted back a little, resting against the pillows as she continued to smile at him. His eyes growing hazy himself from the sensation below, Jowan was now stroking himself harder, and with ragged breaths he watched on in anticipation. Her green eyes met his and left, but his black eyes never left her for a moment as he ravished his cock. The pace quickened, and he continued to stroke harder. Finally he saw Leliana’s eyes starting to drift shut and her breathing grew heavy until finally her head drooped back and she passed out on the bed.

Jowan let his hard and erect cock drop from his hand. Coming over to her, naked and unconscious, the sedative draft he had rubbed into her glass had finally taken affect.

Quickly Jowan left her side, picking up his clothes and dressing, although more than a little uncomfortably as his erection slowly subsided. Quietly retreating from the bedroom, Jowan retrieved the package from behind the crate before re-entering the room where Leliana now lay peacefully asleep.

Unwrapping the package, Jowan withdrew a Grey Warden dagger. The cold steel was sharp, yet the blue handle was well-worn. A well-used blade, Jowan wondered whether this was a personal dagger of Sierra herself from the Order. Sighing, he returned to Leliana and stood over the woman. Aiming the steel tip between her right and left lung and tilted slightly to her left breastbone, he paused momentarily.

‘I am sorry Leliana.’ Jowan whispered morosely ‘This is never what I wanted. We both know Sierra holds true to her word, neither of us could have escaped this.’

Lunging forward, the blade pierced her flesh and plunged into her chest hard. The bones of her rib cracked as the blade ran between to the fleshy muscle and tissue beneath. Leliana’s face contorted in pain, unconscious yet struggling to hold onto a flame that was being extinguished. A small breath escaped her lips before she began to splutter, choking on the blood now escaping her mouth. Jowan held the blade firm as Leliana twitched and shuddered in her final moments, bright red blood pooling across the fine silk gauze.

Unable to release his shaking hand from the blade, Jowan bowed his head as a tear fell down his cheek. Of all the heinous deeds he had committed, why now did he feel such shame?

‘Curse you Sierra. A friend once, yet now a bane and nothing more.’ he muttered, almost choking on his grief as he withdrew from the bed.

Wiping his eyes with his bloodied sleeve, Jowan took one last look at the spymaster. Leliana was dead, and he was not happier for it. Yet there was more to be done on this night, and little time to do it. The motion of the pendulum had begun and there was no stopping it now.

Gathering up the package, Jowan departed the rookery. Flying down the stairs in a whirlwind of hasty steps, the mage left the main hall and set towards the gardens of Skyhold.

Humming a quiet tune under his breath, Jowan tried to calm his racing nerves. Death by his hands had never upset him in the past, yet he could not erase the feeling of utter shame crawling over his skin. The stigma of his actions was deplorable. Shaking his hands furiously, Jowan tried to stop the tremor that had begun once more. Those tainted hands had killed an innocent life, so how would he cleanse them now? Another shame cast upon his soul, another tear shed by Lily. Jowan hated himself.

His racing mind tried desperately to appease his damnation, for surely the will to survive was greater than the preservation of the life of others? Justify his actions as he might, he knew that deep down he was still the same man. One capable of harming, and yet one also capable of helping. He skipped across the line from time to time, unable to walk a straight line. It was not his fault. The terrain surrounding him was a collection of hills and valleys, and it was beyond his control to where the river met the sea.

Walking swiftly along the cloisters, there was one more place Jowan had to visit. With a murmur under his breath, the mage cast an invisibility spell to cloak him from sight. Arriving at the brown wooden door opposite the lemon balm bushes, Jowan did not hesitate a moment as he crouched down ready to pick the lock before him. In days gone by he had become rather proficient in stealing and breaking into places, having always been on the run and relying on the pockets of others to line his own. Picking a chamber lock in Skyhold was an effortless task, and within moments he procured the soft click he was anticipating.

Turning the handle gently, Jowan eased the door open slowly, pausing every now and then as the creak sounded from the hinge. When the door was open enough to slip through, the mage crept silently into the dark room. A dagger wedged under his belt, Jowan grasped the hilt tight in his hand and edged forward with the blade drawn. Before him he could see the outline of a woman sleeping in a four poster bed and he made his way towards her. Towards Cassandra Pentaghast.

From what Jowan had seen in the hall in former hours, Cassandra had been drinking copious amounts of mead and the heavy breathing before him confirmed that she was in a deep sleep. Standing over her bed, a thin slit of moonlight shone across the Seeker’s face. White light on pure flesh, the scar on her left jaw a reminder of previous days where wounds were inflicted and healed, yet the scars lived on.

In a state of penitence, Jowan silently cast a gaze over her serene state. From what he knew of the Seeker, she was a good woman. Her fate would be unjust, as many others had suffered. It was as simple as that, so why did his conscience say otherwise?

Lifting the blade slightly over her chest, all that he needed to do was plunge the blade deep and hope her suffering would be over quickly. At least he could give her that mercy?

‘Snnnaaarrrgggg…snnnnaaaaarrrrgggg.’

Catching his breath in panic, Jowan heard the snoring of another from behind him at the table by the window. Jowan's hand slipped as he was caught offguard and the blade pierced Cassandra’s torso, slicing deeply into her flesh as the weight of the mage fell onto the blade. In horror he felt the arms of the Seeker come up instantly to grab him in the dark, and in a flurry of half-conscious pulls and pushes, the mage finally wriggled free from her hands.

Cassandra cried out, moaning loudly now on the bed. ‘Varric…..help.’ she whimpered before growing quiet.

Breathlessly Jowan scampered away towards the entrance of the chamber. With a loud creak he wrenched the heavy oak door open and fled into the night, desperate to wash away the blood that stained his body and soul.


	44. The Greater Game

  


Shivering in the brisk morning, an icy wind had come in from across the ranges and blew against my body. The first rays of sun were peaking over the mountains and I witnessed the sparkle of sunlight on snow, the embers of daybreak cavorting with the dense mist. Pulling the wolf pelt tighter across my body I waited in silence, reminding myself next time Cullen asked me to meet him on the battlements at dawn I should immediately suggest a warm room instead.

Cullen had not arrived yet, but I anticipated his arrival at any moment. Wondering what news he had to tell me over a few hours of restless sleep was torturous enough, yet his refusal to speak further in our chambers made me feel worse. Was I about to lose the man again? The previous night had been tumultuous and riddled with one too many drinks. Secretly I hoped everything could be explained and blamed on the shoddy house wine and ale being poured non-stop in the main hall.

‘Clang….clang….clang…’

My eyes darted across to the watchtower as the ominous low toll of the keep’s bell suddenly sounded from the battlements, a tocsin to warn Skyhold of danger. It never rang unless there was an emergency, and my eyes darted frantically across the outside of the keep in fear of enemies approaching. Through the growing fog nothing could be seen but behind me there was a ruckus of shouting in the courtyard below.

Turning my attention to the inner keep, several guards were rushing across carrying a body. Varric was also with them, helping the men and women to transport the limp figure wrapped in a sheet. Eyes widening in fright, I caught sight of the face.

‘Cassandra.’ I murmured fearfully, my hands pressed hard against the parapet as I leant over in horror.

Rushing down the stairs of the battlement and approaching the group, I saw the red and fearful eyes of the rogue as he carried the Seeker towards the healing quarters beside the temple.

‘Varric what happened?’ I cried out, cupping my hands over my mouth as I saw the gruesome sight before me. Cassandra’s entire torso was covered in blood and the sheet wrapped around her was soaking it up like a sponge. The Seeker was deathly white and unresponsive, her eyelids shut and her lips slightly open. ‘Is she…?’ I trembled.

‘She is still breathing.’ answered a panicked sounding Varric ‘Ophelia we need the best curers to meet us at the healing quarters. Find Brother Crispin, Molly Wymond, and Athalwolf. Anyone else who you think can be of aid? Please we don’t have much time.’

The group continued to move frantically away towards the temple, and I watched on in shock.

‘Soldiers to me.’ called out a stern voice.

Lifting my eyes I could see Cullen descending the battlements hastily as various men and women flocked towards him. The Commander approached me, looking just as concerned as myself.

‘What is going on?’ Cullen asked, his eyes suddenly drawing fast on Cassandra as she was carried away in the distance ‘By Andraste, what has happened?!’

‘Mistress Pentaghast was attacked and stabbed, Commander.’ replied one of the soldiers ‘Varric called the attention to the guards just before, and they’re taking her to the healing quarters right now. We believe it was an assassination attempt.’

‘How bad is she?’ asked the Commander lowly, although I could tell by the look on his face he already knew the answer.

‘A dagger was embedded in her chest, but she is still alive.’ reported the soldier ‘She has lost a lot of blood.’

‘Did anyone see who did it?’ I asked hastily.

‘No Inquisitor, Varric was awoken by Cassandra’s cries after the assault occurred.’ replied the soldier ‘He never saw the assailant.’

‘I want no one leaving or entering Skyhold unless on my orders.’ replied Cullen sharply ‘Where is Leliana? Has she been told yet? She may be able to track the party if they have already fled. If they are still here, more the better.’

The soldier shook his head ‘Nay I have not informed her yet.’

‘Go find her now and let her know what has happened.’ ordered Cullen. The man nodded and set off as the Commander turned away to address another soldier awaiting commands. ‘Ready twenty soldiers to search the surrounding terrain outside Skyhold.’ directed Cullen ‘Look for any fresh signs of departure. Follow any tracks, no matter how innocent they may be.’. The soldier nodded and ran off as Cullen turned to the next group waiting for directions ‘Have five of our fastest riders set off on Gherlen’s Pass and three on Sulcher’s Pass, perhaps they can catch up to the assailant if they travel on the roads. Go now, quick.’

Looking at the Commander, I could see how worried he was. ‘Cullen, why would someone want Cassandra dead?’ I asked uneasily.

The Commander ran his eyes around the courtyard with a frown on his face. ‘I have no idea what to think, but until we find out more information I want guards posted with you at all times.’

Clicking his fingers to another pair of soldiers, they approached the Commander promptly. ‘Hadden and Ricker, you are to guard the Inquisitor at all times for her protection.’ informed Cullen ‘Do not let her leave your sight for a moment, is that understood?’

The men nodded ‘Yes Commander.’

Vivienne and Blackwall came across the courtyard, the mage skipping across the stones with her long dress swept up in her left hand, while the Grey Warden marched alongside at a steady pace. The pair looked bewildered as the bell began to toll once more, their wits alert and ready.

‘For fucks sake, will someone stop the fool who is sounding the keep!’ roared Cullen towards the guards up on the battlements ‘They’re going to send the entire of Skyhold into a damn panic if they have not already.’

A few guards skittered away, eager to cease the bells.

‘Commander, what is the situation.’ asked Blackwall firmly.

‘Cassandra has been viciously attacked.’ replied Cullen ‘Vivienne go to the healing quarters and see if you can aid Cassandra in any way. Blackwall I am going to need you to scout the area with the soldiers, you are extremely knowledgeable in tracking. Where some may overlook things, you I know will not.’

Without another word the pair nodded, scattering off towards their different destinations as Cullen recommenced ordering a few more soldiers to follow Blackwall. In the distance I could see Michel de Chevin running towards us from the residential cloisters.

‘Commander, what has happened?’ asked the ex-chevalier ‘Is Skyhold under threat? Where do you need me?’

‘Cassandra has been attacked in her chambers, we do not know by who.’ replied Cullen ‘Michel I need you to ask around the keep for anyone who may have seen someone or anything unusual. You know these people very well, if anyone has seen something they will most likely confide in you.’

‘Of course.’ nodded Michel, noticing the guards standing at my side. With a reassuring nod, he turned away and set off back towards the cloisters.

‘I must go find the healers.’ I remarked, suddenly remembering my promise to Varric.

‘Commander! Commander!’ cried out a voice from the main hall ‘Commander Cullen!’

We all turned to see a terrified soldier running down from the stairs from the main hall. Almost tripping over his feet he galloped towards us, pale as a ghost.

‘Briggs? What is it?’ called out Cullen as the man approached.

‘She-she’s dead, Commander.’ he cried out fearfully, pointing up to the tower in the keep with a shaky finger.

Without another word, Cullen charged towards the main hall and fearfully I followed on with a few other soldiers in tow. As the Commander bolted on ahead, my thoughts were a blur. What was going on? Had agents of Corypheus infiltrated the keep? Were we all about to be attacked? Was Haven happening all over again?

Running through the study of Solas, the elf looked startled as we ran past and ascended the stairs. He called out but we were too focused to stop. The dark steps were a blur as we leapt up them. Dashing past Dorian in the library, I paused momentarily as Cullen rushed on forward.

‘Dorian,’ I gasped breathlessly ‘I need you to find Brother Crispin, Molly Wymond from the barracks, and Athalwolf. Send them immediately to the healing quarters. Cassandra has been badly injured and we cannot spare a moment.’

Resonating above us, the sound of a man roaring out in a heartbreaking cry caught our attention. It was Cullen. His tortured lament echoed around the tower and with wide eyes we turned our heads up to the next level where the rookery resided.

Dorian threw me a worried look and nodded hastily, pushing my arm to encourage me to move on ‘Go. I will find them and get them Cassandra.’

Pressing forward, I jumped up the stairs two at a time until I reached the rookery. It was chaotic as I entered the dark room full of agitated ravens that were flapping furiously around the room. Their savage cries deafened my ears. Drawing my arm to protect my face from the harsh slap of wings, I entered the rookery as the birds flew in a frenzy. Through scattered black feathers I made my way to the open door before me. Of Leliana’s bedroom. My rapid breathing revealed itself in frosted plumes as I shakily stepped in, fearing what lay within yet also fearing the birds screaming behind me.

In horror I froze at the doorway.

On top of the bed was Cullen, cradling the bloodied corpse of Leliana. I gasped in panic, seeing her lifeless body being held like a doll in the Commanders arms.

The templar roared again at the top of his lungs, savage and wild like an animal being tortured in a cage, before collapsing his face into her ginger hair. Cullen embraced Leliana, sobbing in muffled cries amongst her tresses.

‘What has happened here?’ I whispered to myself fearfully, turning to see the soldiers behind me looking equally shocked.

Pulling away, his ragged sobs drew sharp as Cullen looked down to the dagger implanted in Leliana’s chest.

‘No!’ he shouted, prying it from her flesh and throwing the blade viciously across the room where it smashed hard against the wall. Cullen roared out again, his voice deafening our ears and causing the ravens to shriek even louder. A wounded wolf howling to the skies above, the man was lost in his grief and all we could do was helplessly look on.

I watched the templar weep into the Spymaster’s hair once more, his strong arms wrapped around her limp body with tragic affection. Tears fell down my cheek and trickled to the tip of my chin, finally dropping onto the rug below.

Leliana had been murdered.

****

Running a hand across her forehead, the portly man looked dismal. His heavy knit brows furrowed as he felt her heartbeat at her neck, and finally the bald headed healer turned away from the woman altogether. With swift steps he approached the distraught onlooker, a rogue covered in blood.

‘She is dying, Master Tethras.’ informed Brother Crispin softly ‘I fear there is nothing more we can do for her.’

Varric wiped his puffy eyes with his sleeve, shaking his head to refuse the diagnosis. ‘No,’ he croaked ‘there has to be something we can do. Even if it has the smallest chance of helping her. Crispin, you gotta help me out here.’

‘I am sorry my friend, if there was anything I could do you know I would do it.’ replied the Brother wistfully ‘All we can do now is try and ease her suffering. I will make up a concoction of Oleander milk and oil of wolfs bane, a few drops on her lips and she will be by the Maker’s side soon enough. It is the kindest thing for her now.’

Varric nodded silently, patting the man on the arm as the Brother walked out.

Without a word, a woman continued to clean around the wound of the Seeker. The dagger had been ripped out by Cassandra before she had passed out, and this unfortunate move had resulted in copious amounts of blood to be lost. The woman knew no amount of stitches, or time, would help the Seeker now.

‘Molly tell me you can help her?’ appealed Varric ‘You’ve treated hundreds of soldiers with wounds like this, surely?’

The woman paused, her hardened features softening as she turned to the dwarf with a sympathetic look. Walking over the dwarf, she threw a remorseful look back at Cassandra.

‘Varric she’s lost a lot of blood.’ remarked Molly in a lowered voice ‘On top of that, her lung has been pierced. By the way she is wheezing I suspect it is filling with blood. I’m sorry Varric, this type of injury is most always fatal. I’ve cleaned her wound the best I can, but all we can do now is wait for the inevitable.’

Varric nodded although he looked as if the words only half reached his ears. Collecting her items, Molly left the room quietly.

Placing his hands heavily against the wooden table where Cassandra lay, Varric kept his eyes on her as if willing her to open them. ‘Athalwolf, tell me you can help.’ murmured Varric, his voice filled with pain ‘I can’t let her die. Tell me there is something, anything, that you can do.’

A morbid look on his face, Jowan approached the dwarf tentatively. The mage had been alerted by a banging on his door earlier that morning, a guard apologising for waking the mage. Naturally Jowan had never been asleep. After fleeing Cassandra’s chambers Jowan had returned to his own and burned his clothes in the fire before scrubbing himself from head to toe. There was no sleep after that, only silent wakefulness in spasms of shock. A twitch of his shoulder, a jerk of his knee, a sharp breath drawn from his chest every now and then. If he was fatigued he did not feel it, only the guilt of actions he could not forgive. Sickened to the core by what he had done. Indeed Jowan looked more ailed than the woman before them now.

‘Her lung is pierced.’ Jowan replied darkly ‘Cassandra will die a slow and painful death if Brother Crispin does not give her the poison.’

Jowan miserably looked down towards Varric who was now crying into the bend of his arm as he clutched Cassandra’s hand with the other.

‘You know I was waiting for the right time,’ remarked Varric sorrowfully ‘and something always stopped me because I was scared at how she would react. Some kind of blockhead I turned out to be, eh? Ahh…but there’s no time like the present.’. Squeezing her hand gently, Varric leant down to Cassandra’s ear. ‘I love you Seeker.’ he confessed affectionately ‘Heck the first time you took a swing at me I knew there was no turning back. Don’t leave me now…just…just hang in there. Show the bastards how strong you are.’. Rubbing his distraught eyes, Varric chuckled sadly ‘You wanna know what happens in the next chapter of Swords and Shields, don’t you? I’m not gonna say what happens but I promise it’ll be more smuttier than you could ever have dreamed of. And well all I’m sayin is… you…you need to be alive to read it.’

Catching his breath in his chest, Varric started sobbing beside her as he held her hand tight.

Woebegone, Jowan approached the dwarf as one tear of his own traced down his cold white cheek. ‘There is another way to save her, if you are willing?’ he informed quietly ‘Let me help Cassandra in a way no other has offered to.’

The red eye dwarf turned to look at the mage, devastated and distraught. The rogue looked confused, and then all too knowing. Sighing, Varric shook his head ‘Don’t tell me…’

Jowan nodded seriously in reply. ‘Now Varric let us be brutally honest here, most mages in Thedas know how to perform blood magic, but choose not to practice it.’ observed the mage adamantly ‘I am not saying this to make you think blood magic is acceptable, but in certain circumstances when a more powerful form of magic is required then it can be very useful. There are ways to heal fatal wounds like this if you are willing to try?’

‘She would never forgive me.’ replied Varric darkly ‘Shit I’d be ass deep in trouble if she knew I’d let you cast blood magic on her.’. Staring down at her beautiful face, Varric ran a finger tenderly across Cassandra’s black braid wrapped around her head ‘But I can’t let her die if there is a way to save her.’

‘Let me perform this spell then.’ encouraged Jowan desperately ‘Let me try and help Cassandra, I owe her that much, but if I do you must promise not to tell anyone that I have done this. Not a soul. I do not want anyone knowing my part in this lest I be punished for it. It would be a secret only you and I must ever know, not even Cassandra can know.’

‘Can you save her?’ asked Varric.

‘She has a fatal wound.’ observed Jowan ‘Already Cassandra lingers on an edge of a blade, between the world of life and death. Nothing is certain, but I do know this. This is your only chance.’

‘Then do what needs to be done and screw the rules.’ muttered Varric ‘She can kick my ass later if she ever figures it out, but it won’t be from my lips. I promise you.’

Jowan breathed out in relief. ‘Then I give you my word I will try my best.’ replied the mage. Standing up, Jowan started for the door ‘I will gather all I need and return immediately. Do not let Crispin go anywhere near Cassandra with that concoction of his, send him away and tell him more time is needed before the potion is administered. Try and ensure no one is around, the less people near these quarters the better. I will be back soon.’

Hastily Jowan made his way to his chambers, positively riddled with guilt. Sierra had what she wanted, Leliana was dead. However Cassandra was not going to die, not if he could help it. That disgusting moment of trying to murder her was filling him with more self-hatred than he could bare and if Jowan could save her now, perhaps he could atone for what he had done. No matter the cost, he was going to try.

****

Beautiful and serene, Leliana’s body lay on the stone slab before Andraste in the temple at Skyhold. Flickering candles peppered across the shelves and windowsills, on the floor and surrounding the sturdy slab. Waxy honey light from the dancing flames reflected off her porcelain white skin, making her appear celestial as she lay in peace, finally at rest.

Cullen knelt before Leliana, his head bowed low as his sandy hair spilled over her cold arm. The templar was deep in prayer. It had been hours that he had remained on his knees hoping for a miracle, yet no miracle had occurred. In desperation Cullen had spent hour upon hour calling for the Maker to aid. Praying. Asking. Begging. Yet the Maker did not answer, and Leliana’s body remained cold and lifeless.

‘If you could wake up now? Please my love.’ Cullen whispered, his voice broken and low ‘You never deserved the life you endured. I know how much suffering you experienced over the years.’. His breath drew short as he tried to stop the emotions that were overwhelming him. Running his strong hand across her forehead, he tenderly stroked her hair from her face. ‘I know how many sacrifices you made for the good of others.’ he murmured ‘You sacrificed everything for the Maker, may he watch over you now my love.’

Tears in his amber eyes, Cullen leant over her tranquil face and placed a gentle kiss on Leliana’s lips. Bowing his head once more, he returned to his litany of chants. If more prayer was needed to save her, then that was what he would do. Vengeance would have to wait, but one way or the other Cullen would ensure Leliana would have her revenge.

****

It had been several hours since the terrible events of the morning had occurred, and still I felt as shocked as I had the moment I saw Leliana’s lifeless figure in her bed. Cullen had carried the spymaster’s body down the steps of the tower and out of the main hall, where all witnessed the corpse. The people fell to their knees, whispering prayers as Cullen carried Leliana past them. Many were overwhelmed with grief and sobbing for the former Left hand of the Divine. To my surprise, I underestimated the love and respect the people at Skyhold held for Leliana. There was pain in their eyes as they followed Cullen, a mournful procession of the faithful, into the temple where her body would be cleansed and prepared.

There are moments when one knows to stay back, and this was one of those occasions. Cullen’s reaction told me as much, he needed to be alone with Leliana and grieve. The people of Skyhold needed to mourn the loss of Leliana. Meanwhile the healers had been attending to Cassandra, and a moment prior Molly Wymond had passed by to inform me of the latest update on the Seeker’s condition. Cassandra was dying, most likely her life would be over in another hour or so. Tears in my eyes, I did not want to be alone anymore with two watchful soldiers guarding over me. I needed answers. Something to shine some light on to what was happening. On what had happened.

With hasty steps I made my way towards the temple, finally arriving at the glowing room ablaze with candles and incense. Leliana was lying on the altar, wrapped in a crisp white gauze. Her face looked peaceful, and yet the man kneeling before her looked anything but. Cullen turned sharply as he heard my footsteps, his amber eyes stricken with grief.

‘She would have given her last breath for the good of others.’ he murmured dolefully, returning his gaze on the body before him ‘Maybe her shell had been hardened along the way, but within she was the warmest and most loving of people. A bard that spoke to the people’s hearts, and defended them even more so. The only reason we are here, that the Inquisition exists, is because she set out to make it so. You do not realise how much we owe Leliana.’

I watched on in silence, seeing the way the man clasped her hand so endearingly even in death. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand delicately as he looked upon her in adoration.

‘She had such a hard life, yet never lingered on it even though it hurt her so.’ Cullen explained ‘A life begun in tragedy, her mother dying when she was only four years old. Leliana would often reminisce what little she could remember, it was nothing of consequence. Lavender, oranges and grey linen, that is all she had to give her comfort…but it was enough. She was raised by Orlesian nobility, Lady Cecilie Vasseur. Mind you Leliana was never made apart of that family in the formal sense, always kept at arm’s length. Always an outsider, perhaps that is what made her such a remarkable leader in later years? Never apart of the flock, so she was able to rule over them. I always believed the lack of love in Leliana’s life may have been the reason why she was so caring. She blossomed from her sadness. I imagine it is the bitterest thing to be abandoned by the ones you love.’. Cullen shook his head, turning his head to me ‘You both may have had more in common than you realised?’

Hesitating, I finally took a few steps into the warm temple. ‘I think the real sadness is when you realise the abandonment springs from a source of disillusioned love on your behalf.’ I explained dismally ‘To believe you were surrounded by a love that was never actually there. It leaves you questioning the ideals of love and compassion. Perhaps doubting them? Questioning whether you were ever deserving of them in the first place. It leaves you thinking in some ludicrous way that you could have better placed your feelings in an inanimate object and received a better outcome. Personally a hand held mirror is more desirable, at least if you looked at it it would always look back. Give you its undivided attention.’

‘From a mirror?’ remarked Cullen, holding a raised brow.

‘It was more loving than my family, trust me.’ I added dryly. Feeling his pain as it radiated within the room as luminous as the lambent flames, I added ‘I am sorry that Leliana grew up alone in the world.’

‘So am I.’ murmured Cullen, stroking her cheek ‘She knew she was alone and as a child tried to escape within the Orlesian and Ferelden stories she collected. She relished the elvish tales retold by the household staff.’

‘A beginning to the bard she would become in later days.’ I observed softly.

‘Yes, amongst other things.’ replied Cullen, somewhat bitterly ‘Leliana met a wealthy widow in Val Royeaux when she was sixteen, a bard named Marjolaine. As the fates like to make fools of us all, Marjolaine became the most destructive and influential person in Leliana’s life. She took Leliana under her wing and taught her the ways of the bard and the skills of the assassin. They referred to it as The Grand Game. In pure adulation Leliana worked for that woman, trusted her, and happily did whatever she was told to do. Then one day Leliana was asked to plant incriminating documents in the Arl of Denerim’s chambers. She felt something not right when noticing the seal of the Orlesian military on the documents, you see? Even though she adored Marjolaine, Leliana always knew right from wrong. She never fell prey to the corruption that others found themselves entertaining. Leliana knew her mentor’s treasonous acts were wrong.’

‘What did she do?’ I asked, lowering myself gently on the stones and leaning my back against the temple wall.

‘Leliana confronted Marjolaine that night when she returned from the Arl’s estate.’ replied Cullen ‘It takes a lot of courage to stand up to the people you idolise. Marjolaine accepted what she had done was wrong and agreed they should return to retrieve the documents. Of course it was a trap, Marjolaine only wanted the documents back in her hands to protect herself, and yet she now knew Leliana knew too much. The alarms were sounded in the estate and Leliana was forced to fight her way out. Marjolaine stabbed Leliana before taking the documents and fleeing. She betrayed Leliana and let her take the blame for their entire ordeal. Leliana was captured and imprisoned. Her first love ended up betraying her in the cruellest of ways.’

‘Marjolaine and Leliana were lovers?’ I asked tentatively ‘But Leliana was so young, and you said Marjolaine was a widow?’

‘A young widow, but nevertheless there was a considerable age difference yes. I believe there was fifteen years between them, give or take.’ replied Cullen ‘Marjolaine used her years of wisdom in the world, her skills and her lifestyle to groom Leliana into exactly what she wanted. And Leliana, none the wiser, was taken advantage of.’

‘So Marjolaine used Leliana and then threw her to the wolves.’ I replied with a frown ‘That is disgraceful.’

‘The worst of it was yet to come.’ muttered Cullen in revulsion ‘Leliana was abused in that dungeon at the Arl of Denerim’s estate, you would not believe the disgusting things done to that poor woman.’. Cullen grew quiet once more, clasping the spymaster’s cheek softly in his large palm ‘Yet she had strength in her and managed to escape with the help of Revered Mother Dorothea. Someone you may better recognise as Divine Justinia.’

‘That was how the two of them met?’ I remarked in surprise ‘Justinia aided in Leliana’s rescue. But why?’

‘It seems even back then the Maker was watching out for Leliana.’ smiled Cullen softly ‘The documents Marjolaine had stolen were from Dorothea. In her pursuit to retrieve them, Dorothea discovered Leliana’s part played in the affair. A victim like herself, Dorothea felt it her responsibility to help Leliana escape, and in turn asked for aid in retrieving the documents. It was Dorothea that led Leliana to a life in the Chantry. She became the mentor Leliana deserved to have all along. Leliana became a lay sister at the Chantry in Lothering, to escape her past and to atone for her sins.’

Feeling ashamed at how little I knew of the woman I worked with, I averted my eyes from the body on the alter ‘I’m sorry I never got the chance to learn more about Leliana from herself.’. Shaking my head, I corrected myself ‘There were plenty of chances. I am sorry I never tried to talk to Leliana more often.’

Easing up from his knees, Cullen retreated to a nearby wooden pew closer to the back of the temple where I was residing. ‘I am not certain you would have been able to get close to Leliana.’ he observed solemnly ‘Leliana was guarded with her thoughts and feelings, there were few who knew her like I did.’

‘Oh.’ I mumbled, uncomfortably running my nails along the edges of the cold stone slabs of the floor. As strange as it sounded, even here in this isolated temple I felt like the intruder. A third party that was intervening on something I could never be apart of.

‘Her dedication to the Chantry and to the Maker were strong from the beginning, and she worked ever so hard.’ continued Cullen ‘However Leliana never realised how special she was. She received a vision from the Maker during her time at the Lothering Chantry. To her shame she was ostracised by the other Chantry members when she confided as to what had happened. These devout followers of the Maker, so narrow minded and closed off to see the bigger picture before them.’. Cullen scoffed in disgust, shaking his head ‘Ironic how the faithless were the ones inside the Chantry. Once again Leliana was abandoned by her peers and left alone in a harsh world, but her faith kept her strong. The Maker sent her a vision that she was to help in ending the Blight.’

‘Truly?’ I remarked in surprise ‘That is how Leliana came to travel with-‘. I hesitated, seeing Cullen grow rigid at the anticipation of a name he did not want to hear. ‘..with Alistair and company.’ I mumbled.

‘Leliana chose to use her skills for the greater good, and selflessly offered her bow and blade to the plight of the Grey Wardens. Leliana wanted to stop the Blight. She wanted to help. And how was she repaid? Murdered at the hands of that bitch for defending the very ashes of Andraste herself. Leliana’s honourable act led to her ruin. Once again she was only trying to do the right thing and was cast aside as a result of it. Yet each time it happened to Leliana it somehow made her stronger. By the end she was the strongest of them all, and nothing would steer her from what was right. Divine Justinia herself knew Leliana was a vessel of which the Maker spoke through. Through all the years Justinia knew Leliana there was no doubt in her mind. She specifically requested Leliana to become her Left hand; and Spymaster to the Divine she became. You have no idea the impact Leliana has made on Thedas, and for the better. The Inquisition would not be here if it were not for her. Corypheus would most likely be ruling over Thedas as we speak. She did not deserve to die like this…it was not her time. ’

Unwilling to look up at the grieving man, my eyes held fast on the stone floor. I did not want to say the words, but I knew I had to.

‘You loved her, didn’t you?’ I murmured.

Cupping his palms together, Cullen grew quiet before lifting his eyes to me. ‘I did love her, yes.’ he confessed ‘Our bond was a unique sort, one that I fear you will not understand.’

Clenching my jaw, I kept my eyes to the ground waiting to hear how unique their love could have been.

‘I have tried to explain to you before of how I was, but no words could truly do justice as to what state I found myself in when I arrived at Greenfeel.’ remarked Cullen ‘After I was released from the Kinloch Hold I was in shock. Living through this horrific moment over and over again in my mind, despite being told it was over. Being told that I was lucky to survive.’. Cullen laughed bitterly ‘Lucky indeed. They did not tell me I would relive the experience every waking moment and every slumberous dream. Again and again. Seeing all that torture before my eyes as the demons took delight in peeling off my comrades flesh, cutting off their hands, legs, noses and ears while they were alive….prying out their eyes and cutting off their tongues.’. Cullen shuddered, shifting in his seat ‘The louder the templars screamed for help, the more twisted the games would become. I could not remove those images from my head no matter how hard I tried. How could anyone forget all that? I was not sleeping or eating, and every time I saw a mage I was filled with utter hate. I saw what they were capable of doing and I was disgusted. Physically I was fine, but in my head I was beaten, bloodied and slowly dying. When I was sent to Greenfeel Leliana arrived soon after, also damaged like I. Broken on the inside, and lost in the miserable world once more. She had been run through with a lethal blow, only to have found she had been brought back to life and with no idea as to why. It was too much for one person to bare.’

‘So that is how you both reunited.’ I observed quietly.

‘I tried to take my life in Greenfeel.’ murmured Cullen.

My eyes darted up, and the templar nodded silently, his amber eyes filled with despondency.

‘A week or two after I arrived in Greenfeel I received word from Knight-Commander Greagoir that my mother and father had been killed when the family was trying to escape to South Reach.’ recalled Cullen sadly ‘Killed by the darkspawn. The letter did not mention what had happened to my siblings, but I assumed the worst. Ophelia there comes a point when one endures too much pain to want to continue and I had crossed that threshold. Leliana could see where I was heading, and she spent countless days and nights begging me to talk through what I was feeling. Always wanting to help others, that was her way. Ah but the woman was sharp though, she knew all too well the path I was heading down. She kept a watchful eye on me. One night when I was alone I tried to leave the Chantry with a rope, determined to end my suffering off the branch of a white willow tree at a nearby riverbed. Leliana waited until I was clear of the Chantry before revealing herself. She talked me out of it, said I had to go on. To never give up, even when all seems lost. It was she that encouraged me back to my faith, ensured me that the Maker would guide me through. Ensured me that she would guide me through.’

Unable to stop the tears falling now from my eyes, I wiped them away unsuccessfully with my fingertips as the trickle transformed into a waterfall. Hanging my head, I let the droplets fall onto the stone like fresh rain from the skies above.

‘Leliana had a vision in the Chantry at Greenfeel eleven years ago.’ continued Cullen ‘The Maker came to her and showed her as the Divine, and me holding a child next to a red rose bush. She believed we were chosen by the Maker to create the next chosen leader of the realm. The chosen one of the Maker.’. Cullen turned to me ‘There was a rose bush in the Chantry at Lothering. It was there that Leliana had had her first vision, when she was a lay sister there. Leliana and I pledged ourselves to the Maker before that very bush. We promised to do his bidding, and we came together. We kept our union secret because of that vision. It was too important to reveal.’

‘Oh…’ I murmured, unable to look at the templar ‘Were you lovers before the vision?’

Running his hands through his hair, Cullen looked over to me once more. ‘Not in the traditional sense.’ he answered ‘We were friends that had…certain privileges. I suppose that is what I would have called it at the time. Both of us found sexual intimacy was a good technique to distract us from what we both had endured. Got a little rise out of an otherwise lousy situation, that was the gist of it.’

Cullen rubbed his arm, obviously uncomfortable about speaking about his intimacy with Leliana in front of me.

‘After a few months at Greenfeel, I was offered a commission at the Kirkwall Templar Order.’ he continued ‘Leliana encouraged me to join, although I confess it was the last thing I wanted to do. She was determined that I return to my duties as a templar, for one day I would be Knight-Commander as she had foreseen. I had just turned twenty and was so young and naïve, you have no idea. All I wanted was that friendship and compassion I had received from Leliana. I asked her to come with me to Kirkwall and she refused, saying her duties lay elsewhere. She believed the Maker would guide her when the time was right. Leliana told me not to wait for her, and that our union was holy and could never be broken. Yet in her eyes it was never going to be a monogamous love either. As confused as I was, we departed ways knowing we shared a holy bond and nothing more. And so I began my life in Kirkwall. I was haunted by my past at every step, I sunk so low that I spent any time to myself deep in drink, substances, and women. An orgy of gluttony. Leliana would come visit every now and then, a few times a year. Just before the Kirkwall Rebellion she came to me and begged me to leave, implied that something terrible was going to happen. Then after the Kirkwall Rebellion, Leliana came back for me once more. She knew I was once again caught up in something that most likely would have destroyed me. This time however I was hardened, and was nothing like I had been back in Greenfeel. However I was once again scarred by the situation and more than a little disheartened. I told her I was done with the Templar Order, and she offered me a position as Commander for the Inquisition.’

‘So there you have it.’ I muttered dryly, casting a cold glare at the man.

Cullen sighed, looking at me with a grave expression. ‘I cannot imagine what you must be thinking at the moment.’ he observed in a low voice ‘I need you to know that while you and I were together I was never with Leliana.’. The templar took a deep breath, adding softly ‘I need you to know that when you were away in Adamant we came together one night.’

Inhaling sharply in shock, I threw Cullen a look of daggers. ‘Came together.’ I scoffed ‘You mean you fucked her during the last week?’

‘No,’ replied Cullen stiffly ‘it was…a similar scenario to the one you came upon when you caught me in the loft with the scarf.’

My antipathy for the pair had reached its peak. Shaking my head in disgust I spent the next several minutes trying to digest what had been told to me. ‘Is there anything else?’ I asked ‘I mean it Cullen, no half-truths. No matter what it is, I need to know.’

‘That is everything.’ answered Cullen ‘All I can say is I am sorry. Your anger towards me is the least of what I deserve. Although I desire it, I would not even venture towards asking for forgiveness. For such a betrayal I deserve none.’

‘I am more than a little angry.’ I muttered ‘You lied to me all this time when we were together and sharing our most intimate moments. You looked me in the eye and professed you were a man that would never entertain other women.’

I laughed in revulsion, shaking my head for being the fool as always.

‘I never entertained Leliana or anyone else when I was with you.’ replied Cullen sternly ‘I meant what I said.’

‘You flat out lied to my face when I asked about you and Leliana.’ I seethed. Shaking my head in disgust ‘She only likes women. Honestly Cullen, what the fuck were you thinking?’

‘It appears I wasn’t.’ muttered Cullen darkly ‘I knew lying to you was the wrong thing but I did not want you to know.’

‘I know what a lie is, you don’t have to explain the concept to me.’ I retorted.

Gnashing his teeth, Cullen glared at me in frustration. ‘Trust me when I say you do not want to interfere with Leliana on matters concerning the Maker.’ he observed quietly, almost as if he feared she would hear him from beyond the grave ‘She demanded secrecy on the matter of the vision, as did Justinia. I had the Divine and the Left Hand pressing me hard on that matter of silence. Yes I could have simply told you I was involved with Leliana, but you would have had questions and I would have had to ply you with more lies. Lies from the very beginning, for the truth was Leliana and I came together and stayed together for one specific reason. I wanted to tell you about the vision but you would never have understood.’

‘You never gave me a chance.’ I observed dryly.

Cullen turned to me sharply ‘In hindsight, would you have understood?’

‘I would have been thinking exactly what I am thinking now.’ I replied sharply.

‘Which is what?’ asked Cullen rigidly ‘What are you thinking?’

Digging my heels into the cracks of the stone, I could feel the tension within me boiling like a pot of bubbling broth. ‘Honestly Cullen, I think you have been brainwashed by a woman who saw things that perhaps were not there.’ I replied ‘I think Leliana was raised in abusive relationship after abusive relationship, and as the years progressed she became the abuser.’

Cullen glowered at me furiously ‘You will not speak of her as such. She was a victim, and nothing more. How dare you speak of Leliana like that? Where is your compassion?’

‘Make no mistake, I think Leliana sacrificed herself for the good of the realm.’ I added confidently ‘However I think Leliana used your vulnerability to gain a hold over you, and then she used her position in the Chantry to gain a stronger hold over you as the years went by. I think all you were to Leliana was her fondest pet and she used her visions to keep you in check for all those years. I think someone that truly loved you would not have forced you back into the Templar Order after all that trauma you endured. I’m thinking that is the reason you returned to the Order now, would that be correct?’

‘Do not underestimate my dedication to the plight of the Templar Order.’ Cullen replied darkly ‘That is something I have held dear since I were a child. You are wrong in your observations.’

‘All I am saying is that Leliana was very eager to put you back into that Order.’ I continued ‘How else would you have reached the position of Knight-Commander that she saw in her vision? It was in her interest that you remained in the Order, not yours.’

‘Ophelia the Chantry validated her visions.’ replied Cullen seriously ‘That is a remarkable accomplishment, for previous to that it was deemed impossible for the Maker to speak through a mortal. Andraste was the only exception. You and I cannot ignore that. No one can.’

‘How can anyone validate what someone claims they have seen in their mind?’ I exasperated ‘Perhaps Leliana believed the visions in her head were true? Perhaps she made them up? Who would ever know except for her? If the Chantry entertain flippant claims like that then they are bigger fools than I gave them credit.’

‘She was resurrected in the Temple of Andraste.’ retorted Cullen furiously ‘That fact alone is a miracle.’

‘That is her word and nothing more.’ I answered sharply ‘You and I were not there, we do not know what actually happened. Perhaps Sierra would recount to us a different tale of events?’

‘Do not speak the name of the fucking whore who murdered Leliana.’ roared Cullen, banging his fists on the wooden pew. His strong voice echoed in the silence of the temple, a chant of fury that caused the flames to flicker wildly. The templar looked vehement, drawing a finger sharply towards me ‘You will show some respect before the dead.’

Thrusting my hand before me towards the spymaster’s body, I added darkly ‘You said it yourself. Leliana is dead. Why would that be if the Maker wanted her alive for this great prophecy? Oh Cullen, do you not see you have been deceived! Look at how bitter Leliana was acting last night before us all? That is what I see when I think of Leliana.’

Cullen sighed, before settling down on the seat once more ‘She was bitter because she knew the love I had for you was not what I felt for her. Leliana asked me to leave you that night and I refused. She was so hurt by my confessions, and then you and Michel came barging in. How else would you have expected her to act?’

‘I don’t know what to expect anymore.’ I muttered cynically ‘Perhaps I should be screaming at you right now and banging my fists against the stones, but what has that ever achieved in the past? You have been honest with me, and now so shall I.’

Turning my green eyes to him, I was angry but I knew what I was about to confess was not intended to hurt him. If there was ever a time for complete honesty, now had to be that moment.

‘What would you have to say?’ muttered Cullen ‘What else is there left to say?’

‘I told you that I loved you, and I meant it. However I also love Michel de Chevin.’ I answered bluntly ‘Even when I told you otherwise, that was a lie. Ever since the grand tourney I fell for him. I made a deal with Imshael and risked all your lives on the Imperial Highway to save Michel. It was for my own selfish reasons, I could not bare losing him like that. Imshael would not have been released into the realm and killing innocents right now if not for me. And do you know what? I would have done it again had the choice been laid before me. It was me who asked Michel to make love to me in Tanteridge for that is what I wanted. Michel didn’t take advantage of me, I took advantage of him. I meant every word when I told Michel that I loved him. When we were away in Adamant I secretly hoped Michel would have invited me up to his quarters and fucked me. It never happened, but I wanted it.’

‘A very apt profession of your feelings.’ replied Cullen stiffly, running his hand across his tight jaw ‘So your sentiments towards me? Was any of that real?’

Lifting my attention to his, I let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Everything I have said about my feelings towards you have been real.’ I replied ‘But you need to know the truth. Then there are no more lies between us. I am sorry that I lied to you about Michel.’

Cullen chuckled bitterly, shaking his head ‘If your feelings are with him them here is your golden opportunity. You can be with Michel, Maker knows you owe me nothing. If you want to fuck Michel, then go to it.’

‘I didn’t say I didn’t feel all those things for you.’ I replied heatedly ‘and from what I recall there was much more that I wished to experience with you. A future? Children? Things that I am beginning to understand you do not entertain lightly, and perhaps with good reason. No matter.’. It was my turn to laugh with a bitter cynicism, for what else could be done with the ludicrous truth before me. ‘I loved you the first time I laid eyes on you,’ I added quietly ‘do you remember where?’

A flash of amber and a small curl on his scarred lip met my eyes.

‘How could I not?’ he replied softly ‘Fighting a hoard of shades and wraiths from a rift in the sky, and before I know it Varric, Cassandra and Solas come to our aid. And you. A mere figure in the corner of my eye, and yet when my blade ran through that last despair demon, I turned to see you standing there closing the rift with this wild surge coming from your hand. A power that I had never beheld. It was shocking to witness, and yet then there you were so humble and lovely, amidst all that death and rubble. Cassandra introduced us and you were polite as ever despite me being a brute and saying-’

‘I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.’ I replied dryly ‘I vaguely recall something romantic like that.’

Cullen chuckled, rubbing his neck ‘I confess it was not the best first impression on my behalf.’

With a small smile on my lips, I shrugged ‘Perhaps not the words, but you were the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. And when you walked away I saw the compassion in your actions. You ran over to a wounded soldier and wrapped your arm around him to help him walk back to safety. That spoke to me in leaps and bounds, more than words ever could.’

‘What do we do now?’ muttered Cullen ‘Reminiscing does not help the present situation.’

‘No indeed it is the only thing that is helping this situation.’ I scoffed ‘I fell in love with a good man who looked out for those around him. Plagued by too many chaotic moments perhaps, but that is not your fault. As Leliana said to me, you are a good man that has had terrible things happen to you in the past. She said you were one of the strongest and most selfless people she knew.’

A sad smile on his lips, Cullen raised his melting amber eyes to mine. ‘Thank you.’ he murmured quietly.

‘So now I suppose we try and work through this.’ I added determinedly.

‘What!?’ remarked Cullen looking perplexed, if not livid, at my words ‘Makers breath Ophelia! Did you not hear what I just told you? I have been involved with Leliana for nearly twelve years! How can you work through such a deceit?’

Feeling a little annoyed, I glared at the man who was looking at me as if I were not sound of mind ‘You have a funny way of reacting to forgiveness.’

‘I cannot believe it in good faith is all.’ reproached Cullen ‘You should be furious and half way to Kirkwall as we speak.’

‘I heard you last night in the hall.’ I replied seriously ‘You wanted to run away with me and leave it all behind. You, a leader that would never leave his men and women behind. A man that would never abandon his soldiers and templars for anything in the world. A man who would never ignore the visions of the Maker. Yet you were willing to do that for me. You were willing to let them all go for a chance of us being together. It tells me a lot about how you feel, more than idle words of reassurance ever could.’

‘I meant every word, however I also knew I had to tell you of my past.’ replied Cullen gravely ‘Do not think I ever would have run off and hidden this from you.’

‘I believe you.’ I replied.

‘And how do you feel knowing all this?’ he asked solemnly.

‘I’m furious. Furious for you lying to me, and furious at Leliana for taking advantage of your traumatic past.’ I responded.

Cullen looked annoyed at this last observation but remind quiet.

‘I’m not going to run away to The Hanged Man and cry my eyes out,’ I continued ‘or hide behind a flagon and drink away the hurt. It is time to choose what we do. For you to choose what you want to do. We can both choose where we go from here. What do you want Cullen? In all honesty?’

‘I want you.’ replied Cullen, looking over to me ‘I also want to act as Commander for the Inquisition and run the Templar Order. What about you?’

‘I want you also.’ I confirmed, adding strongly ‘I also want to continue leading as the Inquisitor….and to run the Mage Order.’. Holding my breath, I waited for the onslaught to begin once more.

‘Mage Order?’ remarked Cullen with a frown ‘What Mage Order?’

‘The one I am going to build with Athalwolf.’ I replied adamantly ‘An Order of mages working together for the benefit of Thedas.’

Cullen raised his brows in surprise before shrugging, perhaps already defeated by everything else. ‘Who am I to stop you?’ he muttered, throwing a small smile towards me ‘Are you really saying after everything we could still be together?’

Raising myself to my feet, I stood before the door of the temple and looked at Cullen seriously. ‘Yes but you will have to let her go.’ I replied ‘Only then can you truly be free.’

The Commander and I held each other’s attention and exchanged nods, brief but understanding. Turning to leave, I heard Cullen call out my name.

‘Thank you.’ he remarked with a small smile before walking back to the body of Leliana.

‘You need to be alone with her, I understand that.’ I replied ‘When you have said your goodbyes, I will be here….as I always have been.’


	45. A Name

  
  


In a darkened room with heavy curtains drawn shut, a soft light emitted from the blaze in the fire pit and a lone candle on the table before him. The brown oak door had been bolted shut, along with a reassurance from the rogue on the other side that trouble would not come knocking while Jowan was weaving his magic.

In a mad flurry spilling over glass vials and shuffling through scrolls, the mage had frantically collected the materials that he needed to perform the ritual and returned back to the healing quarters. He passed a worried looking Brother Crispin clutching a poultice in his hand. Crispin conveyed his concerns that Varric did not comprehend the severity of the Seeker’s condition and that the dwarf had sent him away with instruction not to administer the poison. With a reassuring pat on his arm, Jowan promised to speak to Varric as he recommenced his hasty pace.

Throwing a quick glance to the unconscious Seeker lying on the bed at the side of the room, the mage proceeded to the headboard and pushed the sturdy frame into the middle of the room. Cursing to himself that his body was not as strong as his former one, he rubbed his lower back achingly before returning to the wooden table.

With heavy presses, expending all his guilt, fear and concern, Jowan used his mortar and pestle to grind yellow root, skullcap, persimmon, black pepper and acacia together into a fine silty powder. A dirk with a black hilt lay beside the mortar on the table, waiting patiently as the mage prepared the concoction for the ritual. A poultice to protect the Seeker from the demon he would summon, so no mischievous entity could enter into her susceptible, weakened body. Normally Jowan would never propose entertaining a demon when someone so fragile was in the room, but there was little choice. It was now or never.

Dagger in his hand, Jowan braced himself as he ran the sharp blade across the soft flesh of his upper forearm and blood trickled into the mortar. No matter how many times he had let his blood, he always winced from the sting. Stirring the crimson droplets into the powder, it formed into a thick brown paste that looked similar to the red clay found on the banks of the Galeran River, a river that ran all the way from The Southron Hills out into the Amaranthine Ocean.

Seizing a large bowl of powdered white salt, the mage commenced pouring the crushed rock crystal into a circle around the Seeker’s bed. A simple method to ensure any demon summoned would not be able to cross over and escape into the realm. Jowan often found it ironic that the most simple of substances contained the most powerful of properties. Every man, woman and child in the realm had salt at their table, and yet while they piled it on their oiled bread and potatoes, most were none the wiser that they held a demonic shield in their hands.

Scooping the sludgy paste on his fore and middle finger, the mage began to place dots of the concoction on the Nevarren’s temples, inner eye, wrists, knees and base of her feet. Her breathing was weak as she wheezed for air, unconscious perhaps to her predicament but nevertheless struggling to stay alive.

Drawing a deep breath, Jowan begun the chant of summoning as he commenced to walk around the circle slowly. Over and over again, the words began mere whispers until he was calling them loud into the air Duirth di monantan ro-argth. Duirth di monantan ro-argth. Duirth di monantan ro-argth. DUIRTH DI MONANTAN RO-ARGTH.

Waiting in anticipation for a plume of shade smoke to appear, the mage was surprised to be greeted with…nothing. The rite had been performed and yet no demon had materialised. Over the countless times Jowan had performed this particular spell, never had nothing happened. Casting his dark eyes around the room, he felt a shiver in the air. A mere stirring in one’s stomach. A small tingle across one’s skin. There was an eldritch atmosphere in the hushed room, as if a presence lingered even though no one answered his call. Although his eyes told him otherwise, Jowan knew he was not alone.

‘I seek a demon to aid in the healing of Cassandra Pentaghast!’ called out Jowan, thrusting his hands up into the air as a magical surge was released from them ‘The veil is open so reveal yourself.’

The fire crackling in the room began to spit and hiss, before growing softer and softer until it diminished into smouldering embers, red hot and glowing. Turning his attention to each corner of the room, Jowan could hear a low and malicious laugh all around him. A malignant entity to be certain, although what or who was something Jowan could not say.

‘Jowan, Jowan, Jowan. My dear little shemlen.’ whispered a low and malignant voice ‘I had missed your company ever so much.’

Casting his eyes to the wall where the bed had been pushed against, Jowan’s attention was brought to a figure of an elf that had appeared. An elf that was standing on the outside of the circle. Delicate in form yet extremely tall in stature, the elvish man had long blond hair tied back in a braid, and held a pair of jet black eyes. With a scrutinising scoff, Jowan did not have to be a maleficar to know that this was no normal elf.

‘A demon to be sure, but you are no demon from the Fade.’ determined Jowan ‘Be careful on your next move malicious one, I can kill you easily enough even when you are outside the circle.’

The elf smiled graciously, extending his arms to his sides before playfully bowing before the man. Rising once more, the elf looked calmly to Jowan. ‘No trouble shall come of me, I only mean to talk.’ reassured the figure ‘Who knows, perhaps we may even strike up a deal?’

‘I called for a demon in the Fade, not you Imshael.’ remarked Jowan in displeasure, his eyes flickering dangerously at the demon before him ‘Do not think you can fool me with your latest elvish disguise.’

The elf revealed a hint of surprise on his face before laughing in amusement ‘My my my you are observant, and here I thought my outfit was rather good. Of course yours seems so much the better. Why, you’ve managed to fool the entire Inquisition!’

‘You and I have nothing else to talk about,’ dismissed Jowan, flicking his hand towards the elf ‘be off with you wretched creature.’

Imshael brought his slender hands to his mouth, in a mocking display of shock. ‘Indeed I am the only demon you will be able to talk to, now that Corypheus has labelled you a traitor to the cause.’ sneered the elf.

‘What?’ remarked Jowan sharply.

‘Did you not think news would spread far and wide that you are now comfortably serving the Inquisition, laying aside your pledge to aid the Elder One?’ asked Imshael with a smirk ‘No demon will deal with you now, my little fraudulenti.’

The mage scoffed, eyeing the elf with disdain ‘You have high opinions of your comrades if you think every demon in the fade will shun me because I do not dance to the tune of Corypheus.’

Running his fingers along the table where the poultice had been prepared, Imshael paused to dip his finger into the concoction in the mortar. Bringing it to his lips, he tasted the paste in apparent pleasure ‘It never ceases to amaze me how something so horrid in the fade can be so delicious in the real realm.’

Crossing his arms, the mage now glared at the elf. ‘Imshael do not test my patience. It never amazes me how all demons seem to enjoy the sound of their own voice more than self-preservation. Explain yourself or die, the choice is very simple.’

The elf shrugged ‘The Elder One has gained the loyalty of the demons in the Fade, as you well know. However their loyalty has grown in strength. They all wish to be apart of his demon army now, for he and he alone would see that they are released. Even we demons have our own causes, Jowan. Why else do you think I have come when you called for help, and not another desperate spirit?’

‘A good question.’ replied the mage dryly ‘Are you not also a faithful subject to the Elder One?’

The elf chuckled, looking down at his body with a smile ‘Thanks to you I am free already! I have little concern in doing any favours for the Elder One.’

‘Are you here to aid me or just bore me with your drivel?’ muttered Jowan, turning his attention to Cassandra who remained unconscious ‘I need help in healing this woman. Will you assist me or not? Speak quick, I tire of your drab conversation.’

The flame from the candle on the table flickered aggressively as the elf grew stern, his smile dropping away into a scorn. ‘You need me Jowan, do not play the supercilious card with me.’ warned Imshael ‘I suggest a favour for a favour, for I am in need of something as well.’

Jowan held Imshael’s glare with his own black eyes ‘What favour would that be?’

‘Michel de Chevin.’ answered the elf, a grin growing on his lips.

‘No.’ replied Jowan dangerously ‘I am not making human sacrifices.’

‘Yet you were ever so solicitous with Michel on our last meeting?’ replied Imshael in mocking surprise ‘My my my, how you have changed!’

The mage scoffed, looking at the elf in disgust ‘Yet you have remained the same annoying entity I see. Forget it, you cannot have Michel’s life.’

‘Dear Jowan, oh you make us out to sound so beastly.’ remarked Imshael ‘Fear not I do not want your Maister of Blades, only a hint of information. A tiny whisper, ah for there are whispers running through the wind. They tease me ever so much, and I would seek an answer.’

Jowan began to look more that a little annoyed ‘You do not know how much I loathe small talk and riddles. Speak.’

Raising his arms leisurely up and twisting his body into a stretch, Imshael appeared unconcerned by the mages threats. ‘There are rumours that Michel is part elf, and perhaps I already suspected as much.’ explained Imshael ‘What I want to know is; which clan does Michel de Chevin fare from.’

‘So you can go and eradicate the clan, no doubt.’ scorned Jowan ‘I know your history with Michel de Chevin. He was hunting you before he joined the Inquisition. I will not be the means by which you seek your pathetic revenge. The answer is no.’

The elf smiled, looking down towards Cassandra with a great deal of interest. ‘Naturally I would give you my word not to lay a finger on any of their lives, but people are so cruel these days…not trusting demons.’ replied Imshael ‘Of course sometimes a leap of faith is required.’. The elf raised his black eyes coldly to Jowan, drawing his long limb to point at Cassandra’s body in a harsh and severe manner. ‘She will die, you know this.’ informed Imshael darkly ‘Take my word or not, but know that you hold the key to Cassandra’s life. The choice is yours.’

‘Why do you want to know what clan Michel de Chevin is from?’ asked Jowan suspiciously ‘What concern is it of yours? If indeed you do not wish to harm his people, then why would you seek that information?’

‘Ahhh where to begin?’ chuckled Imshael ‘It would take too long to explain and my reasons have always been my own. Let us just say Michel is special. His is a presence that you can feel without seeing. All those years ago when I met the chevalier he left such an impression. I need to know more about the man, and this information would be ever so helpful. Such a curiosity could easily be sated, and in turn I will save this lovely woman.’

‘I need your assurance that no harm comes to the clan.’ remarked Jowan shortly.

Imshael flashed his shadowy eyes to the mage ‘Agreed.’

Raising his left palm, Jowan muttered a few words under his breath and a swirling orb of marbled black and red light presented itself in a glowing ball. Imshael hissed as he saw it, and took a few steps back, drawing his hands to protect his eyes.

‘Do you know what this is?’ asked Jowan calmly.

‘She will die if you choose this path you ninny!’ screeched Imshael, bending over in pain. As Jowan took a step forward, the demon wailed out in agony.

‘It would be unwise to resort to name calling at the present moment Imshael.’ remarked Jowan with a cruel smile ‘Promise me no harm comes to Michel’s clan.’

‘Yes, I promise!’ grimaced Imshael, clutching his skull in pain as if he were about to rip the very flesh from his face.

The mage nodded in satisfaction, letting the orb fade away. ‘It is remarkable how much you can learn about demons over the years when keeping your enemy in your pocket.’ observed Jowan pleasantly ‘A demon taught me this spell, can you believe it? A demon willingly taught me how to torture their own kind in the most painful of ways. If you cross me, in any way, I will use this on you. Do you understand?’

‘Yessss.’ hissed Imshael, casting a furious look at his companion.

‘Very well. Michel comes from the clan Banal’ras Bellanaris.’ informed Jowan sharply.

Black eyes growing wide in delight, Imshael began to laugh a gleeful guffaw that filled the room and made the fire spit and hiss. Rubbing his hands together, the demon looked joyous if not utterly ecstatic. ‘My deepest gratitude, as always.’ remarked the elf.

‘Now heal Cassandra,’ added Jowan sternly ‘but do not heal her completely so no wound remains. Give Cassandra the essence of her life back, and ensure the wound heals properly over the next few months and that she will be in full health in due course.’

With a nod Imshael drew his hands to his chest, at the same place where Cassandra was wounded with the dagger. Murmuring under his breath, a blue glow radiated from the Seeker’s chest and spread throughout her entire body before fading away once more.

‘It is done.’ acknowledged Imshael ‘She will live.’

‘Good, now go.’ muttered Jowan, throwing the demon a baleful look.

The elf grinned ‘As always, it has been a pleasure. Until next time Jowan.’

The mage cast his black eyes towards Imshael. ‘Go.’ he ordered darkly.

Sneering at the mage, the elf’s form began to blur and slowly fade away. The flames in the fire place flickered brighter once more, and began to burn strong. Imshael was gone.

Hastily Jowan began to throw the ingredients into the fire, sweeping the salt up and moving Cassandra’s bed back into the usual position. Drawing back the curtains, the soft afternoon light filtered in as the mage gently wiped the paste off the Seeker’s skin. When he reached her temples he noticed a small flutter of eyelashes as the woman began to stir. A small curl on his lips, Jowan turned for the door where he knew a dwarf would be eagerly waiting to hear the good news.

****

A cold winter sun was fading as Michel marched across the courtyard, passing by men and women huddling round in hushed whispers and cradling warm tea in their mitten covered hands. Any death could be seen as a bad omen, yet a murder of a former Left Hand of the Divine was something else in its entirety. Rumours of curses and maledictions were entertained, as were mutterings of foul magic and hexes from Corypheus himself. The scullery maids were making holy signs at every knead of their dough, the messengers were taking care not to step on the cracks of the cobblestones in the courtyard, and the peasants who sneezed in the keep took care to cover their mouth and receive a bless you for protection.

After receiving orders from Cullen to investigate the attack on Cassandra, Michel had proceeded to investigate the chambers of the Seeker. He was met with a chaotic sight of chairs scattered on their side and a table pushed hard aside to the wall. There was some blood on the crumpled bedding and on the ground beside the window lay a dagger, also coated in sticky blood. Examining the blade, the ex-chevalier was more than a little uneasy to recognise the pattern on the hilt. It was a blade of the Grey Wardens.

After leaving the chambers of the Seeker, Michel’s attention was drawn to the sound of wailing and sobbing in the courtyard. Running towards the cries of distress he was greeted by the sight of men and women crowding around the temple and murmuring The Chant of Light under their breath. One of the red eyed stable boys sadly informed the ex-chevalier that Leliana had been found dead in her chambers. Murdered.

Feeling a mixture of disbelief and shock, Michel rushed towards the rookery. He was adamant to find any clues that may shine some light on the savage attacks, and to his horror he soon discovered the room of the Spymaster was even more grisly than the Seeker’s. Leliana’s white Orlesian bed was smeared with blood, her bed sheets drenched in crimson. A ghastly sight that left the ex-chevalier nauseated, recalling a similar gruesome bloody sight when he had discovered his wife Lady Rochelle de Chevin on the stones of the courtyard at their home at Clemencia Manor. Tears in his eyes, the Orlesian found himself being pulled back to the memory of that tragic day, his eyes a blur of blue as he shook his head and willed away the painful moment. There was something familiar about death, whether it was on the battlefield or in a courtyard or in a bedroom. A recognisable dismal atmosphere, and irrespective of blood being present or not, the room felt like death itself.

Michel had noticed on the bedside table that there were two crystal glasses, and one blue bottle of La Forêt Rouge. Apparently the spymaster had been entertaining a guest that night, and perhaps that was the person who had performed the fateful deed? His heart sunk as he then noticed a dagger in the corner of the room, stained with blood. A blade he had already seen once that morning. It was another blade of the Grey Wardens. Now the Orlesian’s mind was racing with questions, and all of them surrounded the Order in question.

After leaving the chambers of the Spymaster, the ex-chevalier had passed the local Falconer, Nicolin Ives, a man who tended to and trained hawks in the surrounding forests. He was attending to the ravens that mid-morning, feeding the birds a tray of nuts, dried maize and meat. Michel soon learnt that Nicolin had been drinking in the main hall the previous night and had seen Leliana drinking there also. The falconer soon directed Michel to several people who had also stayed up late in the hall, enjoying the festivities in the early hours of morning.

Scouring the courtyard, cloisters, gardens and battlements, Michel managed to speak with every person he could find over the next several hours. He soon discovered that Leliana had been in deep conversation with Lord Athalwolf Guildersleeve in the hall, before retiring for the night. Exhausted and depleted of any more leads on the attack, the Maister of Blades decided to return to Cullen in the early afternoon.

Finding Cullen not in his study, the ex-chevalier was informed by a guard on the battlements that the Commander had been in the temple for the entire day. With a determined march Michel made his way to the temple, arriving to witness Cullen silently kneeling before the body Leliana. The Orlesian’s heart filled with remorse as he recalled the heated words exchanged the day before, the matter now shamefully unimportant in the wake of all things. All that Michel saw before him now was a man grieving, and it was a terrible sight to behold whether that man be friend or foe.

Clearing his throat at the entrance of the temple, the Commander wearily turned to look at the Orlesian. Cullen threw Michel a nod before easing himself up off the stones, and making his way to the door.

‘Michel.’ remarked Cullen tiredly, walking outside into the courtyard ‘What have you found?’

The Commander squinted, the bright sun blinding him after spending a day in the dark room of the temple. Rubbing his eyes, he finally turned to the Orlesian in anticipation.

Michel held his attention with a furrowed brow ‘I must admit I am confused as to what I have learned. It is most disturbing, and I cannot quite comprehend it myself.’ replied the Orlesian, adding in a hushed voice ‘It appears that both Leliana and Cassandra were stabbed with Grey Warden blades.’

‘Yes I recognised the blade in Leliana’s chest.’ murmured Cullen darkly ‘I had suspected as much.’

With an uneasy sigh, the Commander began walking towards the gardens of the keep as Michel followed on by his side.

‘Why would the Grey Wardens want both Leliana and Cassandra dead?’ baffled Michel ‘Were they after the lives of the entire council? What action on our behalf would render such a reaction from the Order?’

Throwing a solemn look to the Orlesian, Cullen look extremely troubled. ‘Sierra Amell has already tried to take the life of Leliana once.’ informed Cullen ‘I am most certain this was her doing.’

Michel looked shocked as he stopped in his tracks ‘Alistair’s partner at Adamant Fortress? Surely not?’

Running his hand through the long stems of lavender as they passed by a bush, Cullen roughly plucked a flower. Crushing its aromatic head between his fingers, he breathed in the calming scent. ‘It is true,’ confirmed Cullen ‘hence why Leliana was so upset the other night on hearing you mention Sierra’s name.’

The ex-chevalier paused, looking now riddled with guilt ‘Cullen I want you to know how sorry I am for the heated words exchanged yesterday. You were right, I was out of line. What happened has been plaguing me the entire day and I cannot help but feel a large part responsible for Leliana’s death. If I had not upset her, perhaps she would have not resorted to drinking heavily in the hall? Perhaps her wits would have been sharper?’

Cullen dropped the lavender to the ground, continuing to walk towards the empty stone cloisters ahead. ‘No if anyone is to blame for upsetting Leliana it is me.’ he acknowledged cheerlessly ‘She left upset because of me, I assure you.’

Michel nodded, unwilling to pursue the topic at hand. Whether Cullen was involved with Leliana or not, now was not the time to press the matter. ‘Athalwolf approached me a few hours ago and confided in something.’ remarked Michel ‘I am sure there is nothing to it…but I best mention it nevertheless.’

‘What did he say?’ asked the templar sternly.

Running his hand across his unshaven blonde jawline, Michel hesitated for a moment before addressing the question. ‘He was with Leliana, last night in her chambers.’ informed Michel in a soft voice, shifting his eyes to a few people nearby.

‘What?!!!” remarked Cullen sharply ‘What do you mean he was with her?’. The Commander grew rigid as he waited for an explanation.

The ex-chevalier nodded ‘Indeed Athalwolf said that Leliana had invited him up to her chambers and they spent some time drinking, amongst other things. He left afterwards, and returned to his chambers. That would mean the attack must have happened just before dawn.’

‘Why would he have left her in the early hours of morning?’ asked Cullen suspiciously ‘Should he not have stayed with her?’

‘I asked the same thing also, perhaps we are old fashioned?’ replied Michel with a bitter chuckle ‘Apparently Leliana asked him to go. Athalwolf said he wanted to stay but she did not want anyone knowing about their liaison.’

‘Time to find Athalwolf.’ remarked Cullen with a hint of anger in his voice. Turning sharply, he began to march towards the healing quarters.

‘You suspect something sinister in his actions?’ remarked Michel in surprise, chasing after Cullen’s rather rapid pace.

‘He was the last person to see Leliana alive.’ muttered Cullen ‘I would like to know everything that he is privy to, no matter how innocent it may seem.’

****

‘And then Aveline said to Donnick “Is that a wyvern in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”’

Propped up with a cushion in her bed, Cassandra threw a weak smile and laugh to Varric as he held her hand tight. The dwarf returned a chuckle, his face beaming with joviality as he turned the page.

‘Donnick threw the Guard Captain a saucy smile, taking a step closer to reveal the mystery. The circus had not come to Kirkwall, and yet there was a tent pitched in her office. It was fate.’

Brother Crispin shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he continued to dress the Seeker’s wound. ‘This is awfully lewd.’ he remarked in disapproval, lips pursed tight and a frown on his face.

‘Well I guess that’s my cue to stop then!’ exclaimed Varric, snapping the book shut and causing looks of concern from his audience. The dwarf yawned, unperturbed and looking more than a little nonchalant ‘Perhaps it’s better that we never know what happened in Aveline’s office.’

‘No don’t stop now!’ remarked Crispin rather hastily, eyes widening in embarrassment as he realised he had been caught out. ‘Well, ahem, I mean…if the patient is enjoying this story then it is good for her recovery. We should oblige just this once.’

Varric and Cassandra began laughing, before the Seeker clutched her side with a painful wince.

‘Okay, okay I’m continuing. No more laughing Seeker.’ warned a grinning Varric, opening the book once more.

‘Suddenly loud noises of clashing steel and split barrels could be heard from outside. The guards posted were unable to hold the intruder back as he kicked down the door to the office of the Guard Captain. “Stop!” he shouted, stepping into the room. It was Don Roderigo.’

Brother Crispin gasped ‘No, surely not! Don Roderigo died on the shipwreck of The Sea Strumpet when he was making love to Donnick’s sister and the boat steered onto the rocks of Theobald. He cannot be alive, can he?’

Varric tapped his nose with a wink, continuing to read ‘A black mane of wind swept hair and dark eyes, Don Roderigo ripped off his shirt and threw it to the ground, like a wild stallion from the Arlathan Forest. “Aveline.” he murmured, taking her hand affectionately in his ‘Death would have taken me but I said no! No I say! Not when I have love in my heart for you. Come away with me to Llomerynn, we can collect sea shells on the beach and make love on the sand. I will play the dulcimer to you beneath the silver stars, and we can serenade them in turn with our sweet, sweet love.”. Pointing his bulging arms at Donnick, Don Roderigo added ‘I challenge you to a duel, you brigand! Take off your shirt here and now. Show my love who is the REAL man that she deserves.”’

Jowan held a small smile on his face as he stood at the door watching the Seeker well and alive, and with Varric by her side. Together. Perhaps Varric’s story was not as palatable to him as some found it to be, but Jowan knew a happy ending when he saw one. Perhaps he was never destined for that, but perhaps that was never his destiny. Jowan knew he needed to atone for his wrongdoing and make Thedas a better place for mages….no matter the cost.

The rough scuffle of boot on stone sounded behind him and Jowan quickly turned around to see Cullen approaching with a rather severe expression on his face. The mage had known it was only a matter of time before he would be entertaining such an audience, and with a calm salute addressed the man before him.

‘Commander Cullen, it is good to see you.’ remarked Jowan.

‘Athalwolf a word.’ muttered Cullen, drawing his arm stiffly to encourage the mage to follow on.

Descending into the courtyard, the mage walked quietly beside the tall warrior who cast him a stern look every now and then. They passed The Herald’s Rest to where Michel de Chevin was waiting near the training circle.

‘Is everything all right Commander?’ inquired Jowan curiously, throwing a nod to Michel as he approached.

Cullen finally ceased his pacing, resting against the wooden fence of the training circle ‘Michel has informed me that several people witnessed you being the last person to speak to Leliana in the hall yesterday. Sharing wine and in conversation?’

The mage sighed, shaking his head. ‘With tending to Cassandra I was distracted. You must believe I would have come to Michel earlier this morning to inform him about it.’. Jowan ran his hand across his mouth, casting his dark eyes around the circle as Cullen glared at him. ‘Leliana invited me up to her room that night.’ confessed the mage.

‘You two were involved?’ asked Cullen harshly, his amber eyes almost bursting into flame as he spoke the words.

‘Well no, it was the first time.’ replied Jowan humbly ‘Leliana offered me a key to her room and departed. I left without the key, returned to my chambers for some wine and went up to her room. Drinking too much wine made me a little forgetful I am ashamed to say. I did not retrieve the key.’. The mage grew quiet, looking over to the soldiers parrying in the circle. Their blades clashed loudly yet did not diminish the foreboding silence. Running his hands through his black curls, Jowan added fearfully ‘Do you not see what I have done? I feel this entire thing could be my fault. I left the key in the main hall. It could have been used by the attacker.’

‘Has anyone found the key?’ asked Cullen, looking to the ex-chevalier.

‘Mistress Bernadette found a key the next morning lying on a table in the hall.’ replied Michel ‘I checked, it was the one to Leliana’s room.’

‘It could have been used and then returned.’ observed Cullen ‘Or perhaps our assailant merely picked the lock? Perhaps we will never know.’. Turning his gaze back on the mage, he added sourly ‘Why did you leave her chambers that night?’

Jowan sighed, shaking his head as if he disagreed even now with the decision ‘Leliana thought it unwise if I stayed until morning. We parted ways after we had-’

‘Fine.’ interjected Cullen shortly ‘Are you positive that you did not see anyone, anyone at all? Perhaps someone in the corner of your eye in the main hall? A shadow in the library? Were the ravens unsettled when you left the rookery?’

‘No.’ replied Jowan miserably ‘I left her room with no cause of suspicion, and returned to my own chambers. It was still dark, perhaps an hour or so before dawn?’

‘What did Leliana talk to you about when you were together?’ asked Cullen ‘I need to know everything, no matter how insignificant it may seem.’

Jowan cast an uneasy eye to Michel, before looking back to Cullen ‘Well…ah we spoke about missing Orlais and its delicacies.’

‘And?’ asked Cullen sternly.

The mage rubbed his temples ‘Ahh she was a little upset about losing someone close to her. I believe that was why she was drinking so enthusiastically.’

Michel threw a confused look to the Commander.

‘Who was that person?’ asked Cullen quietly.

Jowan threw an uncomfortable look at the Commander ‘Umm, well it was…you.’

Running his hands through his sandy hair, the Commander turned away to conceal his dark face as Jowan and Michel looked silently to the ground. The atmosphere was excruciating, if not all together uncomfortable.

‘Athalwolf, did Leliana say anything else?’ asked Michel hastily, trying to help his superior deal with the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing.

‘We talked a little about my time as a mage in Orlais, and her time spent in Orlais. Nothing of any consequence. We did not speak much after that.’ replied Jowan uncomfortably.

The Commander remained deathly quiet, his back still turned on his companions.

‘Well, ah, if that is all I must return to Cassandra.’ continued Jowan ‘You will be pleased to hear that she has regained consciousness.’

Cullen spun around in surprise ‘Cassandra is awake? I had no idea. That is excellent news.’

Jowan smiled ‘Indeed she is in good spirits. Well as good in spirits as one could hope, considering all things.’

The ex-chevalier began to smile a brilliant beam, his face lightning up for the first time that day. ‘How wonderful!’ Michel remarked ‘I must have misunderstood Molly when I saw her a few hours back. She made me believe that the situation was dire at best.’

‘I would have said the same thing earlier today, but we had a spot of luck and a patient with a will of iron.’ confirmed Jowan ‘Yes, it is truly the best we could have ever hoped for. Well, if either of you need me I will be attending to Cassandra.’

Turning, the mage calmly descended back towards the building he had come from, while the Commander and Maister of Blades watched on.

‘Michel can I be honest with you?’ asked Cullen, turning to look at the soldier by his side.

Curiously the Maister of Blades looked over to his Commander ‘What is it?’

‘Sierra was after Leliana, but she had no gripe with Cassandra.’ observed the templar ‘Something does not add up here, and that man did not put my mind at ease.’

Michel frowned, musing upon the words of Athalwolf. ‘Well he did come to me of his over volition. Surely he could have pretended not to have gone to Leliana’s chambers if he was involved? Why bother bringing attention to himself?’

The templar turned to the Maister of Blades, a knowing look on his face ‘As my mentor Knight-Commander Greagoir once told me; In the eyes of the trickster it is more favourable to appear honest than deceitful, irrespective of which one you truly are.’

Michel raised his brows in surprise ‘Yes but this is Athalwolf Guildersleeve we are talking about. He has no gripe with Leliana and Cassandra.’

‘Perhaps.’ muttered Cullen. Sighing, he nodded ‘Yes you are probably right. Nevertheless let us have our wits about us, just in case.’

‘Of course.’ nodded Michel ‘However we still are no closer to the main question at hand.’

‘The Grey Wardens.’ nodded Cullen ‘I know. Do not mention them to anyone outside the council. The less people who know about the blades, the better.’

‘I fear that some may already know.’ remarked Michel tentatively ‘The guards saw the blades before I had arrived.’

Cullen sighed, kicking the loose gravel under his boots ‘Oh course they did. I fear if this becomes common knowledge, the Grey Wardens will become less popular than they are even now.’

‘If they are behind this then there would be good cause.’ pointed out Michel.

Cullen raised an eyebrow ‘Michel you surprise me. Surely you see this has nothing to do with the Grey Wardens? No assassin in their right mind would leave a trail back to their doorstep. The Grey Wardens are being made a scapegoat in someone’s greater scheme.’

‘This just gets more confusing by the moment.’ remarked Michel ‘Why would someone want to frame the Grey Wardens. If you suspect Sierra, then why would she frame the very Order she has pledged herself to?’

The Commander shook his head ‘One way or the other, we need to find out and find out soon. I will need you to come with me to Adamant Fortress and investigate this further. We need to speak to the Wardens, and we need to speak to that evil wench.’

Michel nodded ‘Of course, whatever you need me to do to assist.’

Cullen patted the ex-chevalier on the arm in appreciation ‘Thank you Michel. We may not see eye to eye on some things, but I appreciate what you have done here today. We must be careful on our next step however. Wars have begun on less significant issues than this.’

‘A war?’ remarked Michel in surprise ‘Between who and who?’

‘Take your pick.’ chuckled Cullen bitterly ‘Although there is one group that will be centre stage, that much I can promise.’

‘The Grey Wardens?’ observed Michel with a frown.

Cullen raised an eyebrow before turning away to head off towards his study, leaving an ex-chevalier feeling more than a little worried at future days ahead.


	46. Jaded Pasts and Jagged Futures

Sitting at Josephine’s former desk, which had now been transformed into a study for the council, I hastily scribed a formal letter to be sent to the Chantry about the attack on Leliana and Cassandra. While generally at a loss on what to write on the celebration of one’s name day or indeed birthday, let alone one’s death, a pile of scrunched half written parchment balls now lay scattered on the ground. How could I advise the Chantry that their former Left Hand to the Divine had been murdered, and their former Right Hand may soon likely be dead? The concept in itself was mortifying let alone facing the harsh reality now laid out before us. Leliana and Cassandra worked hard and selflessly for the Inquisition, and they did not deserve this fate. No one deserved to be murdered in their bed. It brought to mind the cold reality the even the truly strong were vulnerable. Biting my lip, I began to write a new letter hoping this one did not receive inky tear stains like the last two had received.

The door to the main hall opened, and my eyes darted towards the ex-chevalier at the entrance. He threw me a warm smile as he entered into the room.

‘My apologies in advance, I know you must be busy.’ remarked Michel ‘Do you have a moment? I have several updates on the attacks of today.’

Eagerly placing the quill back into its glass pot, I waved the Orlesian in ‘Yes of course, please sit.’

Looking to the guards, Michel nodded ‘You can leave us for a moment.’

Ricker and Hadden threw a brief nod back and departed to the outside of the open door, leaving us somewhat in privacy.

‘You look troubled.’ observed the ex-chevalier as he approached the messy table, eyeing off the wild storm of loose papers scattered across it and spilling onto the ground.

‘What is there not to be troubled about?’ I muttered, somewhat disenchanted ‘Leliana is dead, Cassandra is fatally wounded. It keeps on running over my mind, who would want them dead?’. Sighing I retrieved my inky quill to commence writing the overdue letter. ‘We have desperately needed an ambassador ever since Josephine ran off, and now more than ever.’ I muttered wearily ‘What is happening to our war council, Michel? They are dropping off like flies. Perhaps the rumours of a curse are true.’

‘Paranoia and nothing more.’ reassured the ex-chevalier ‘The people are worried, that is all. When bad things happen people search for reason. Unfortunately in this case they have good cause to.’

‘At least if it were a curse I would have some excuse to give the Chantry for letting their two members be attacked so viciously.’ I muttered ‘I fear notifying the Chantry about this horrid affair. They will blame the Inquisition for not protecting their own, and they would be right in doing so.’

Drawing a seat at the desk, Michel drew his fingers to the warmth of the fire ‘This whole affair has been a nightmare. The blades found in both Leliana and Cassandra’s chest were ones of the Grey Wardens.’

Looking shocked, I stared at my companion in bewilderment ‘How can that be?’

‘Cullen believes the Grey Wardens have been framed.’ informed Michel solemnly ‘He also wants that information to be kept secret for now.’

‘Framed by whom?’ I asked in confusion ‘What in the good graces is happening here?’

Michel placed his hand on the desk, throwing a reassuring nod to me. ‘We will get to the bottom of this.’ he remarked gently ‘Do not let the fear of these events consume you.’. Smiling, he added a little brighter ‘There is a good news in fact. Cassandra has gained consciousness and is doing well so far.’

‘She is awake!?’ I gasped, sitting up in my seat ‘From the way Brother Crispin had been talking…’

‘Everyone is amazed she has won this battle.’ smiled Michel, pulling the iron to stoke the fire ‘It was nothing less than a miracle.’

Frowning, I turned back to my letter. Despite the marvellous news, the word miracle was fast becoming my least favourite word.

‘Ophelia.’ frowned Michel ‘Are you all right?’

‘I-‘. Drawing into Michel’s concerned blue eyes, mine revealed a heavy burden of my own. ‘This is not the time to occupy your mind with problems that are not pressing. Perhaps later.’

The Orlesian shook his head in confusion ‘Indeed there is little more I can do for the day, it is nearly sunset and we have all retired for the day. If there is something you wish to speak about?’

Placing my correspondence down once more, I ran my eyes over the room trying to fathom how I would put the entire account of events recently learnt into the right words for my companion. It was ludicrous to believe he would make any more sense of it than I. It was impossible to hope he would accept it.

‘There is something you need to know, and I need you to promise me not to reveal this to anyone.’ I remarked in a low voice, making sure the soldiers posted outside could not hear ‘It is about Cullen and Leliana.’

‘What is it?’ asked Michel, placing down the iron and turning towards me, his attention held fast now.

‘Your suspicions were warranted.’ I remarked hastily, pouring us both a chalice of water from the jug on the desk ‘You need to hear what Cullen has told me. What you suspected about him and Leliana was right, and I believe you ought to know the truth.’

The late afternoon transformed into a blue-black sky of twilight as I recounted the entire chain of events to Michel, which were greeted with a certain level of derision and doubt from the ex-chevalier. Rendering the man speechless by the end, he shook his head in disbelief. Shoulders hunched over, and hands pressed together in contemplation, Michel breathed out heavily.

‘This is troubling Ophelia.’ appealed Michel ‘For more than one reason, as you well may have ascertained.’

‘Do not think I am discounting the deceit, but having known the Spymaster surely we can see how experienced she was in controlling people?’ I replied ‘There is a reason Leliana was our head interrogator and spymaster, and controlled agents all across Thedas.’

‘The Chantry confirmed her visions were true.’ exclaimed Michel, casting a concerned face to me ‘What if Leliana’s prophetic visions were the truth?’

Looking to my companion doubtfully, I noticed he appeared more willing to entertain the notion of Leliana’s role than I had been. ‘Yes but she is dead.’ I replied ‘How can we believe in her visions if none of them have come to pass, and now cannot come to fruition?’

‘The words of the Divine are heralded by the faithful as the words closest to the Maker.’ explained Michel ‘If Divine Justinia saw Leliana as a vessel through which the Maker was communicating, surely we cannot discredit her claims so effortlessly?’

‘I may not be of the faithful, but who’s to say I couldn’t have pulled off the same game by going along with the claims that I was The Herald of Andraste?’ I scoffed in reply ‘So many people believed that I was such, and even now some people still believe. Imagine how many more I could have fooled by claiming a false title like that? No one could discount my declaration, and perhaps if I were to be as convincing as Leliana I too could have made the next Divine believe in my claims.’

‘Either way, it warrants further thought.’ pointed out Michel ‘If it were true, Leliana’s death would be more catastrophic than we could have ever imagined. She may have held the key to the future of Thedas.’

‘Leliana is dead.’ I replied in frustration ‘Even if it were true, there is no truth in it now.’

‘Is this why you can forgive him so easily then?’ asked Michel solemnly ‘For she is dead, and Cullen was preordained for something greater?’

‘Of course not.’ I muttered, looking away from Michel’s serious gaze.

‘Cullen lied to you, I will not sugar-coat that for you.’ added Michel ‘You need to see him for who he is.’

‘Cullen was a victim.’ I replied ‘Michel if you only knew the horrors that man has experienced. He was abused and-’

‘And somehow that excuses his behaviour?’ intervened Michel ‘Please do not tell me that is your way of justifying all of this?’

‘No, but it explains to me how he ended up being under Leliana’s thumb.’ I replied shortly ‘Just like we have all been controlled by that woman to some extent.’

‘Ophelia, he has lied to you from the very beginning.’ appealed Michel ‘He came down on us time and time again, and all the while he was in love and involved with another woman! Look at the way he has treated you. Sending you running for your life after you cast blood magic? Chastising you over a kiss with me?’

‘Nothing is black and white.’ I replied sharply ‘Cullen and I have both grown so much since we first met.’. Frowning, I noticed the unconvinced look on Michel’s face. ‘You never witnessed the depression I was falling into when I arrived here at Skyhold,’ I remarked darkly ‘it was well before you ever arrived. Every night I spent my hours alone and deep in drink, trying to forget all the shit that had happened to me. Cullen helped me escape from that miserable life. Yes he has behaved terribly at times, but he has also learnt from his mistakes. Cullen has loved me and given me hope at times when there was none to be had. Now all is out in the open. He confessed to everything, and so did I-‘. I broke off, turning away.

‘What did you confess?’ asked Michel, casting a doubtful eye to me ‘Has Cullen blamed you for something else now?’

Looking briefly to the ex-chevalier, I returned my focus to the scattered papers before me. ‘I told him that I love you.’ I murmured.

The half-elf closed his eyes as if in pain, running his hand through his blonde locks as he rested his elbows on his knees. Staring into the fire, he was more consumed than the flame licking the log in titian delight.

‘Yet again you choose that brute?’ murmured Michel ‘Ophelia do you think my heart is made of stone? Day after day I see you in the arms of another man. All I can think of is that perfect time when we were together, yet now it leaves me with such sadness. Look at how Cullen and Leliana have intervened on our happiness? Their true natures have been revealed and you have finally obtained the clarity that was hidden from you for so long.’

‘Your point?’ I asked impatiently.

‘You refuse to see the truth.’ replied Michel abruptly, his face looking devastated ‘It hurts me to see you with someone else, but Cullen? He promised himself to Leliana, and were she alive what do you think he would have done if she had become the Divine?’

‘I know Michel!’ I replied heatedly ‘Of course I have thought about that! Damn it I have not been able to think of anything since he told me. Do you think knowing all this that hasn’t dampened my spirits? I am darker than the day before but it does not mean I give up. No matter whether you think I am weak or pathetic, I do not think it is a weakness to forgive someone who is genuinely remorseful. And you forget, I have been hiding a great deal of my own secrets from Cullen. Cullen never slept with Leliana or stole kisses from her while we were together.’

‘So he says.’ replied Michel unconvinced ‘Of course he did pledge himself to Leliana and promise to have a child with her in the foreseeable future. Naturally that does not compare to the shock and disgrace of a stolen kiss.’

‘You mock me?’ I remarked in surprise ‘After I am trying to explain to you what I feel.’

‘Ophelia I would never mock you, I am trying to make you see the truth.’ replied Michel seriously ‘You have a knack of gliding over the callous facts, and although I applaud you for trying to see the silver lining…please ma’arlath surely you must see Cullen has acted with dishonour?’

‘Yet here I am in love with you and he. Where is the honour in that?’ I retorted, tapping my quill in annoyance on the parchment and causing a large blot of ink to form ‘Cullen has cause to be upset. I desire you. I have tried to tell myself that I can stop all these feelings I have for you, but I cannot. And that is why I am also the guilty party here. Cullen in no way has ever described his love for Leliana in the same sentiment that I feel for you. I cannot reproach the man for doing something I am guilty of.’

‘So once again you choose him.’ observed Michel quietly. Looking up, his elegant face held a coldness that I could not be sure was a noble trait or one of slight hostility. ‘I promised to protect you but who can protect you from yourself?’ asked Michel seriously ‘How can you ask me to watch you get hurt over and over again and accept it without serious question? No man than loves another should be asked to do that. No man that truly loved you would allow that to happen. Cullen has lied to you and you must tell me now that you see that!’

‘We all lie.’ I retorted, shaking off the demand ‘Cullen has lied about his past, and you concealed yours on many occasions.’. Michel threw a pained look at me and I waved my hand in regret ‘I am not blaming you, but just trying to approach this with an open mind. I understood why you never told me about your wife when we were together, and perhaps in some small way I can see why Cullen felt bound to this secret that he was told to keep silent by the Chantry. Imagine the Divine ordering you to keep your mouth shut? This is the head of an Order that he has pledged his life to.’

‘You take two examples of men who should have known better.’ dismissed Michel ‘You have never lied about your past, not everyone lies.’

‘I have not lied about my past, yet perhaps if I had lived a richer life I would have found cause to do so.’ I muttered, causing Michel to shake his head. Drawing stiffly in my seat, I pursed my lips in displeasure. ‘Perhaps I haven’t lied about my previous days, but I have lied about my feelings and allowed two men into my heart.’ I added darkly ‘That is my shame and that is my passion. That is a twisted maze to stumble into Michel. I cannot stop feeling for you both, so I am doomed to be the harlot. The deceptress. The one that everyone was right about, for I am the dark horse that no one likes. People have a good sense of folk, and I have been well disliked over the years. Take it from me, you would be well rid of me.’

The ex-chevalier desperately grabbed my hand in his ‘Do you not hear who you sound like? How many times have you told me Cullen would say the same things to you? That he was jaded and you should keep away. I refuse to acknowledge your self-hatred, it is misguided as you are at times. It is the reason you allow people like Cullen to come into your life. If only you knew what it was to be truly loved.’

‘I have felt what it is like to be truly loved from both of you.’ I replied soundly, yet sadly ‘I know the feeling all too well.’. Biting my lip, I looked painfully towards my companion, knowing he needed to hear the truth ‘I love Cullen. I have always loved Cullen.’

‘You say you love me?’ remarked Michel indignantly ‘Yet your actions speak otherwise. No, I will not play this game any longer. I am sorry Ophelia, I cannot be here. I cannot be anywhere near you and him. I beg you excuse me.’

Abruptly Michel stood from his chair, the wooden frame dragging against the floor loudly as he stormed out of the room, brushing roughly past the two guards who threw a curious look into the room.

Furiously I grabbed the quill and recommenced writing the letter, caring less about whether my words were suitable enough for the Chantry and well desiring to finally finish the task once and for all.

****

Riding hard down Gherlen's Pass, a messenger set forth towards Orlais with the letter I had written to the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux informing that Leliana had been murdered, and Cassandra injured. Eager to find the Cullen and finally have a moment alone with the templar, I was unable to locate him in any of his usual places. The temple was quiet and Leliana’s body was being watched over by some posted guards. Cullen’s study was locked, and from the lack of candle light I could only assume he was not within. Finally I decided to try The Herald’s Rest where Leliana’s informal vigil was being held by the residents of Skyhold.

Upon entering the tavern the sound of Maryden and a few other minstrels in the keep were playing an orchestra of instruments; with lutes, pipes, a crumhorn and a bladder pipe joining together in a sombre melody of tunes. Already a song had been written in respect for the bard of bards, and glasses of sugared wine were being toasted in Leliana’s name.

Making my way through the chatter of the crowded room, I cast my gaze across the tavern. There was no Commander in sight, yet uneasily my eyes shifted to an ex-chevalier sitting at a large table with some Inquisition soldiers, the Iron Bull and his mercenaries. At his side, a pretty woman with long brown hair was drinking wine and happily chatting away to the attentive Orlesian, who dashingly revealed his brilliant smile at her every musing. I recognised the woman from the merchant stand, someone Michel had been talking to in previous days when I was alone on the steps of the keep.

Making my way to the bar, I threw a nod to the innkeeper Cabot.

‘Inquisitor!’ he exclaimed ‘Aye ‘tis a sad day amongst friends, is it not eh?’

‘Devastating to lose someone so important to so many.’ I remarked soberly.

‘Aye she was the prettiest red ‘aired lass I ever saw, an’ sharp as a blade to boot.’ reflected Cabot, wiping a tear from his eye ‘The Maker got a good deal today gettin’ ‘er.’

‘That he did.’ I replied softly, feeling sorry for the innkeeper who was clearly devastated by the death of Leliana.

Turning my head towards the window, I caught a glimpse of Michel de Chevin once more. Leaning over to the woman's ear the ex-chevalier whispered a seductive sweet nothing, rendering his companion to reveal a bashful smile that she tried to conceal with her fingers. The knight playfully ran his large hands along her delicate collarbone, teasing her with his touch in a long and lingering stroke before bringing his hungry lips to her neck and planting a soft kiss on her nape.

‘Ah so what can I get for ya?’ asked Cabot, polishing a dirty glass ‘We got syrup wine, it was ‘er favourite ya know?’

Frowning I turned back to the innkeeper ‘Ah, thank you but no. Actually I was looking for Cullen. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him here tonight?’

The innkeeper rubbed his beard, pondering the question for a moment before shrugging. ‘Nay not tonight Inquisitor, best check his study.’ replied Cabot ‘Seems to be working night and day that one. Tell ‘im to get down here and have drinks on the ‘ouse. Saw the Commander this mornin’ carryin’ mistress’s body to the temple like a queen. Aye, the man’s got me respect for life now.’

Throwing an uneasy eye back towards Michel, I now beheld the pretty woman climb onto his lap as the pair locked into an intimate embrace of kisses, giggles and whispers. The Orlesian drew his hands around her waist and pulled her deep against his hips, drawing his lips to hers in a heated kiss. A few of the mercenaries cheered on beside him, yelling some profanities and whistling at the open display of their intimacy.

‘Thanks Cabot.’ I replied, throwing him a sad smile ‘Take care my friend.’

‘Aye get ee’ be, get ee’ be!’ remarked Cabot, wiping his face with the dish rag before turning to serve a drunken patron beside me.

Turning from the bar, I suddenly caught the attention of Michel. His blue eyes ran over me indifferently and yet with full intent, before turning back to the woman on his lap. Flashing her a smile, the ex-chevalier's hands and lips recommenced their exploration, a trail of blond hair spilling onto her face as he peppered her with kisses.

Shaking my head I proceeded for the door, pressing forwards in eager hope of finally finding some peace in an otherwise chaotic keep.


	47. Ambrosial Delights

Heel pressed hard as I paced across the darkened courtyard of Skyhold, with Hadden and Ricker following close behind, I had an epiphany of sorts. Or perhaps it was my mind going numb from the icy gale blowing? Either way in that moment there was an apperception that sometimes in this theatre of life it is better to step back and view the act rather than be apart of it. For when we are in the audience it is only then that we can truly see what is before us, rather than performing to convince others of what they are meant to see. True perception was allowing ourselves to espy the entire picture rather than telling ourselves to only acknowledge fragments.

To my unromantic revelation I realised how I erred I had been in the concept of love. For my entire life I had entertained the ideal of love to be a perfect creation. Something pure and flawless. A man that said the right words at the right time, and acted accordingly. Someone who was led by the head but ruled by the heart, although both were consumed only of thoughts of me. My protector and champion, a perfect being that could never be capable of disappointing, saddening or infuriating. Cullen was my saviour, holding me high and liberating me from darker days, and yet ironically he was also culpable of doing the exact opposite at times. Michel was my protector, that debonair knight of cherished folk tales that came to the rescue, and yet he too at times had left me feeling utterly alone and with him nowhere to be found in sight. I failed to see that these two people, that had such high expectations thrust upon them, were just that…people.

It was at that moment that I realised that my notion of love was ignoring one rather largish factor. That I myself was not perfect. So how in the blazes were any of us to assume love would be flawless if we were not so? Indeed love was a plethora of highs and lows, of passion and tranquillity, peace and disharmony, pushing and pulling, growing and learning. We desired and screamed and beat our hands against the wall, tears falling soft on a pillow of lust that sometimes transformed into something more. Something more profound. Love was complicated but not because it was a difficult concept. Love was complicated because we as people made it so. Our unobtainable assumptions and our unreasonable opinions on how the tune should play out perhaps misguided our expectations on what love really was. With fanciful notions of dancing to the happy tune of love, we turned a blind eye to the fact that we ended up with sore feet and shoes that were a little more worn than they were at the beginning of the night.

Faring a weary goodnight to my ever watchful soldiers at the door to my chambers, I ascended the stairs, tired step after tired step. Unbuttoning my tunic by the time I reached the top of the staircase I was already throwing the garment onto the couch with a yawn. However before the cloth had even landed on the furniture, I caught my breath in shock as I was surprised by an intruder reading on my bed.

‘By the blazes you scared me!’ I exclaimed, clutching my chest in shock ‘Also, there seems to be a stranger in my bed.’

Cullen raised his eyes from the worn page he was running his eyes over and threw me an amused chuckled ‘I admit this looks more sinister than intended. Finding myself wanting to see you and escape every person in the keep, this appeared to be the best place to achieve both.’

The templar looked exhausted, his hair dishevelled and his amber eyes dark, like raw honey freshly harvested from the hive.

‘You look tired.’ I observed, pulling my boots off achingly ‘Have you been here long?’

‘No,’ he replied languidly ‘I’ve been busy for the better last hour or so writing a letter to a contact. Leliana had an agent in Adamant that I needed to…correspond with.’

Frowning I sat on the bed, moving my way back to rest my back against the headboard beside the Commander ‘Agent? What agent?’

‘Someone in the Grey Wardens who’s loyalty lay with Leliana rather than the Order.’ replied Cullen seriously ‘Someone who can keep an eye on Sierra Amell and ensure she does not try to escape Adamant Fortress before I arrive there.’

Noticing the templar’s solemn expression, I could only anticipate what he intended to do yet I suspected his actions would be harsh in retribution.

‘If your suspicions are correct and she was behind these attacks I would assume Sierra would already be long gone?’ I pointed out.

‘No,’ frowned Cullen ‘that would look too suspicious. I suspect Sierra will remain at Adamant Fortress for the sake of appearances. Irrespective, it doesn’t hurt to have an eye on her.’

‘Who is the agent?’ I asked curiously ‘Anyone I know?’

The Commander chuckled bitterly, running his hand to knead a knot at the base of his neck. ‘A man, who like so many, have been deceived by that harpy. A man called Nathaniel Howe.’. Cullen turned his head to me, a small knowing curl on his lip ‘I suspect you may recognise the name?’

Shaking my head in confusion, I threw Cullen a baffled look.

‘Maker’s breath, you really were shut off to the realm at Ostwick.’ muttered Cullen ‘Nathaniel Howe is the eldest son of Arl Rendon Howe, the traitor who was in league with Loghain Mac Tir. Honestly have you never heard of him? He took liberty of his growing influence in Ferelden during the Blight to gain title and land, whilst taxing the people to an inch of their life. He tortured men, women and children. Don’t even get me started with what he did to the elves in Denerim. Why the man was labelled The Butcher of Denerim. Need I say more?’

Casting a surprised look to Cullen, I wondered also why no word of these events ever reached my ears at the Ostwick tower. It further supported my belief that the circle towers were nothing more than prisons themselves, intended to keep the mages as far away from the real world as possible.

‘Was Nathaniel a traitor like his father?’ I asked, noticing a troubled expression on my companions face.

‘No by all means he was an apple that landed far from that tree.’ responded Cullen ‘Nathaniel was a respectable lad who was working as a squire to a chevalier named Ser Rodolphe Varley. He was living in the Free Marches completely unaware and uninvolved in his father’s politics.’. The Commander rubbed his neck achingly as he continued ‘Sierra murdered Rendon Howe in his estate in Denerim.’

‘Of course she did.’ I scoffed in disgust.

‘No perhaps on that account she was right to do so.’ observed Cullen ‘Rendon Howe was rotten to the core. However the Grey Wardens received the entirety of the Howe family estate, seized by the crown and bequeathed to the Order. Nathaniel received word that the Grey Wardens, namely Sierra and Alistair, had murdered his father. Naturally he was more than a little perturbed by the actions of the Wardens, and returned to his family home to retrieve a few keepsakes that were important to his family name. Nathaniel was caught by the Grey Wardens and imprisoned, to await a trial by the Warden-Commander.’

Still looking confused, Cullen nodded at my baffled demeanour ‘Several months after the Blight was over, Sierra was made the Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. She was the Warden-Commander that was to trial Nathanial Howe.’

‘So Nathaniel stole a few of his family possessions, what of it?’ I dismissed ‘I cannot imagine that would have landed him into that much trouble?’

My observation was met with derision as Cullen shook his head ‘Sierra hated Nathaniel by default. His father had sent an assassin to murder her and Alistair after they escaped from Ostagar. A member of the Antivan Crows was sent to assassinate the pair, a man who ironically ended up joining their cause. Nevertheless Sierra hated Rendon for trying to claim her life in the underhanded way he did. Perhaps she saw how close she had come to death and disliked the concept.’. Cullen grew heated, if not furious 'More likely she is a fucking little vindictive bitch who cares not a jot for anyone except herself. She sentenced Nathaniel to death.’

‘What?!’ I blurted out in shock ‘For trying to claim back a few of his family heirlooms?’

‘Are you beginning to see the type of woman we are dealing with here?’ replied Cullen darkly ‘Nathaniel would have been executed had it not been for several protesting members of the Order, who I hear begged Sierra to show clemency. Apparently they saw her harsh judgement as reflecting poorly on an Order that was trying to rebuild itself in numbers and reputation. The grey wardens at Vigil’s Keep demanded mercy and in the end Sierra begrudgingly agreed to conscript Nathaniel into the Order instead.’

‘So after doing nothing wrong Nathaniel was forced to be a Grey Warden.’ I murmured in disbelief ‘No wonder he dislikes her.’

‘‘Leliana has agents all over Thedas, but she searched hard for the right one in the Grey Wardens to keep an eye on Sierra. That was over a decade ago now.’ continued Cullen ‘It didn’t take Leliana long to recruit Nathaniel. They shared a common hate, and therefore a common interest. Never underestimate the power in that sort of allegiance.’

‘So you are going to Adamant Fortress then?’ I acknowledged quietly, running my hands over the cotton sheets.

Grasping my hand in his, the templar squeezed it softly ‘You know I must do this. I am not one to stand aside to a murderer. Sierra should have been stopped years ago. Leliana and I knew that, and look what our hesitation cost us. I will not stand by and watch her destroy the lives of countless more.’

‘Then I am coming with you.’ I announced confidently, turning my green eyes sharply to the man ‘You will not have to do this alone.’

‘No.’ replied Cullen strongly ‘Absolutely not. I will not put you in danger by allowing you to join me on this mission.’

‘Don’t you see there is more to lose than what we have already lost?’ I appealed to the Commander ‘Cullen I don’t want to lose you in addition, and what you are planning to do is more than a little risky. What will happen if Alistair or any member of the Grey Wardens learns of your intentions? Your head will be on a pike before you know it, and then they’ll come after the Inquisition.’

‘All I need is to speak to that malificar and I will know whether she is behind this attack.’ muttered Cullen ‘Trust me Ophelia, I will know. I can take care of the rest, you do not need to be there to witness it.’

‘What if she is responsible?’ I asked ‘What will you exactly do?’

With a flinty gaze of harshness, Cullen held my attention severely ‘Then I will kill Sierra Amell.’

Frowning I knew that my understanding and acceptance of this murder was a little unnerving. Considering my previous opinion of the woman, I wasn’t surprised…yet it felt a little alarming nevertheless.

‘Sierra is a blood mage.’ I warned ‘Cullen you are going to need all the help that you can get if you propose to do this. You need a mage on your side.’. Refusing to yield, I held the man’s gaze with absolute confidence. We both knew that there would be no stopping me from joining him on this endeavour.

Prodding my cheek playfully with his fist, the templar sighed. ‘I suppose there is a first time for everything.’ remarked Cullen cynically ‘Notwithstanding your well-intended support, I mean it Ophelia. If there is even the slightest chance of danger, you are to leave immediately. You must promise me this or I cannot allow you to come along.’

‘Fine.’ I replied rigidly, knowing that no matter what the risk I would stay beside the templar until the very end.

Cullen threw me an appreciative nod ‘Thank you.’

Grinning, he nudged me playfully with his shoulder as we sat there, side by side.

‘You look like the cat that got the cream.’ I observed suspiciously.

‘And here I could have replied to that with a witty one liner with a comment even you would have been proud of.’ chuckled Cullen ‘No Ophelia, I am glad to see you that is all. To be here with you after everything that has happened. I did not dare to think it would be possible.’

‘And yet here I am.’ I replied, feeling just as content and thankful to have the Commander beside me.

Leaning over to me, Cullen placed a kiss on my lips and we both entwined our arms around each other affectionately.

‘I am glad for it.’ he whispered.

Pulling back, the Templar threw me a wayward look as I threw him a mischievous flash of green eyes. I knew that look all too well, for no doubt his mind was being entertained with immoral thoughts, delectably corrupt and sinfully exquisite.

‘Do you wish to play a game?’ asked Cullen innocently, although a deviant smile held his lips.

‘What game is that?’ I inquired, holding a similar devious curl on my lip.

‘It’s quite simple really.’ remarked the templar, retreating from the bed serenely as he made his way to the chair where his red jerkin was draped over.

Reaching into the pocket, the Commander produced a black velvet pouch. Juggling the pouch in one hand, Cullen returned to me with a fiendish smile on his face. The templar mounted the bed, resting on his knees before me as he poured the contents of the pouch into his large palm.

There were ten marbles; five black and five white.

‘Black is for punishment and white is for pleasure.’ he remarked pleasantly. Pouring them back into the pouch, he added rather deviously ‘You choose a marble my love, and then I will administer the result.’

Raising a brow, I was met with a cheeky laugh from Cullen as his eyes danced wickedly with sordid thoughts I dared not imagine.

‘I would like that, Master.’ I replied softly, relishing the flutter of excitement running through me.

Cullen drew his breath short, a sharp inhale of pleasure upon hearing the words he longed desired. Drawing up to me, the templar ran his pink lips feather light across my neck. ‘I suppose you do not have to guess that I find both colours highly enjoyable.’ he murmured ruthlessly ‘Although between you and me, I have an overwhelming to see a shade of pink tonight.’

Standing over me, dangerously close, Cullen held out the pouch with a smile ‘Your turn, my pet.’

Reaching into the pouch, my fingers met the cold glass balls that all felt the same. Grasping one of the marbles, I pulled it out and Cullen smiled wickedly as I bit my lip.

‘Tut, tut, tut.’ chastised an amused Cullen ‘Black. Unfortunate for you, and yet quite the opposite for me.’. Crossing his arms sternly he retreated from the bed. Standing before me Cullen looked at me with a straight face. ‘Take off your clothes and get on all fours on the bed.’ he ordered sternly, as if speaking to one of the recruits. With a diabolical glint in his eye, the Commander added softly ‘Do not make me wait longer than I have to. That would displease me.’

Pulling off my top and casting it aside, I grinned as I eased my pants down, revealing my flushed bare skin to the Commander. Running his amber eyes up and down my figure, slowly examining me with a great deal of interest, Cullen finally took slow steps towards me as I smirked. Without warning the man suddenly wrapped his hand firmly around my neck. It was my trigger to submit, and I confess I loved him for doing it.

‘I gave you an order and you dare grin at your Master.’ he whispered dangerously ‘I could punish you for being so defiant.’

Wiping the smile off my face in veiled excitement, I replied softly ‘I’m sorry Master.’

‘Lower your eyes when addressing your Master.’ commanded Cullen darkly, caressing my cheek softly. Looking down to the ground, Cullen leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. ‘Good girl.’ he whispered.

Placing his hands on my shoulders, the templar pushing me roughly back onto the bed. I gasped in surprise, looking up at him as he sternly stood before me still fully dressed in his white tunic and black pants. Quickly I turned over to get on all fours as directed.

Waiting in anticipation for a slap on my arse, I caught my breath as I felt my slit being parted by a hot and wet tongue. In one lascivious long and draw out lick, I groaned at the assault.

‘You are under no circumstances allowed to come. Do I make myself clear?’ ordered Cullen as he slowly eased one thick finger into me.

‘Yes Master.’ I murmured, gasping as I suddenly felt him assault my labia with another several licks whilst being impaled.

Staring down at the bed sheets before me, I could feel Cullen’s rough hands pry me apart with one hand while using the other to lightly run over my clit with his finger. It quivered at the sensation and I could feel the deep well of desire begin to fill my belly. The templar began to place kisses on my buttocks, his light lips trailing across my skin as I felt his warm breath trail across my lower back. Every now and then his rough fingers would return to my pearl, delicately strumming the nub to tease me and cause me to moan. Occasionally he would tease my bud with the point of his tongue, sending me wilder with desire.

Finally the Commander climbed behind me, the prod of his member coming through his pants and pressing against my arse. I sighed as I felt his strong hands move around and paw at my breasts, tweaking my nipples between his course fingers, pulling and pinching while I moaned under his ministrations.

Shivering, I could feel the templar releasing his cock from his pants before pushing his warm and firm erection to my wet cunt. Desperate to feel him inside me, I mewed as I felt his head splay me open. Cullen's delicious thickness eased into me as he moaned beside my ear, mounting me until he was fully engulfed. Tightening around him, I relished each stroke more and more, my breathing growing faster and my heart beating more rapidly as Cullen began to fuck me rhythmically. With firm hard thrusts he began to penetrate his stiff and stony cock deeper upon each penetration, knowing this was exactly what I craved…and I did. Too much. Before I knew it I was teetering on dangerous territory, a place that my master had forbidden me to venture.

Cullen could feel me tighten but he refused to cease his pace.

‘Remember, you are not allowed to do what you are thinking of doing.’ he warned, a severe tone in his voice.

Moaning out in frustration I began to feel discomfort as my pleasure boiled and hissed, wanting to erupt but not being permitted. Eyes glazing over, I tried to focus on anything that would stop me as Cullen continued to fuck harder and harder. The Commander knew I wanted to come and yet he refused to assail the assault. I tried to ignore being impaled by his meaty member, so stiff and thick and generous. I tried to ignore the aroused groans beside my ear from the Commander. I tried to ignore his sweet scent that made me want him to fuck me whenever I came close to his skin.

Cullen’s strong hand reach over to my clit, his finger torturously massaging the engorged bud between his fore finger and thumb as he continued to fuck me hard. Whimpering, I threw my head down and tried to breathe through the excruciating sensation. Cullen chuckled wickedly behind me.

‘You drew a black marble my pet,’ he remarked mischievously ‘this could only end in your punishment.’

‘Please can I come Master?’ I whispered breathlessly into the cotton sheets, my fingers desperately clutching the fabric as Cullen continued to thrust deep and firm, drawing his hard prick out to the tip before ramming it back in with a deep throaty moan on every thrust. Almost hyperventilating from my own heavy breathing, I tried with all my might to stop from coming.

‘Don’t you dare come.’ ordered Cullen heatedly, running his finger over my clit once more as I cried out ‘Your Master has forbidden you and you will obey. You need to learn to control your climaxes. Your body is mine and only I can tell you when to release yourself.’. Leaning heavily over me Cullen fucked me harder ‘Now-take-your-punishment.’ he ordered in deep, unforgiving impalements. Shuddering I kept deadly still, knowing any more movement would send me over the edge. Any breathing. Anything at all. Cullen pushed himself deep within me and held himself there, leaning down to my ear.

‘I may fuck you up the arse soon.’ whispered Cullen darkly, remaining deep inside me as I gasped short breaths ‘I am going to spread open your exquisite cheeks and rub my throbbing cock head on your delicate rosebud, teasing it over and over and over again as it pulsates from the slight pressure I place on that delicate pucker. Taunting and delighting your entrance until your little bud begins to throb and entertain the thought of welcoming me in. Slowly I am going to ease my mushroom past your ring of muscle and feel the tightness engulf my prick as you slowly accept me as your Master. I want to hear you gasp, moaning a guttural whimper of pleasure and uncertainty as you adjust to my girth, knowing it feels so different. So pleasurable. So full and tight as I slowly ease forwards, inch my pleasurable inch. Hearing your gasps and me replying with groans until my final grunt arrives as I fill your passage with my entire unforgiving cock.’

I could feel myself ecstatically writhe under his words, entertaining thoughts I had been so curious and yet timid to try, even though we had toyed with the concept for some time now.

Cullen placed a deep kiss on my neck ‘But I am not going to do any of that until you ask me to do it. Nay, not even then will I do such delightful acts. You need to ask me until I am fully convinced that you desperately need me to do that and exactly that to you.’

Pulling out to the tip of his cock, the Commander thrust one more time before withdrawing from me, leaving me shaking on the bed. The desire was so intense it felt painful, and I would have done anything in that moment to come. In ragged breaths I remained still on the bed, unaware that Cullen had retrieved the pouch and returned to my side.

‘Pick a marble my pet.’ murmured Cullen ‘You’ve played this game so well thus far. Do not disappoint me.’

Begging for a white, I reached into the pouch and clasped onto a cold ball. Pulling it out, I caught my breath in anguish.

‘Black.’ smiled Cullen wickedly, his erection growing incredibly hard as he looked down at me.

All I could think about was release, and once again I was about to be denied.

I watched apprehensively as the templar walked to our wardrobe. Cullen slowly pulled off his white shirt, his chest bare and sculpted as he removed his trousers just as slowly. All muscles and bulk and sun-kissed skin scattered with light white scars, it took all my willpower not to rush over and run my hands over his tight buttocks, strong muscular thighs and that amazing rippled abdomen. A warrior’s naked physique was a marvellous thing to behold. The Commander rummaged in the cupboard before procuring a black scarf of mine and returning to me. Easing his naked self onto the bed, Cullen wrapped the material around my eyes and tied a knot at the back.

‘Lack of senses can heighten others,’ he murmured ‘and I want you to feel this sensation.’

Grabbing my hand, he led me off the bed and I followed him hesitantly, unable to see. After a few paces he stopped. ‘Stand still with your hands above your head, linked together.’ ordered Cullen sternly ‘You are not to move unless I say. You are not to speak unless I ask you a question. If you make a sound, I will be very angry. Do you understand?’

‘Yes Master.’ I replied with a shiver.

The act of pleasuring me without letting me come had already heightened my senses, and now with the blindfold on I was already over the edge. I could not fathom how it worked but Cullen’s warm breath on my skin felt like fire, and his touch sent electrical charges into my skin. Waiting in the dark, I could shuffling that sounded like Cullen walking around me. The time continued to pass, painfully slow as I stood there and waited…and waited…and waited.

Gasping, I felt a sharp cold tip run against my buttocks, swirling in a figure of eight from cheek to cheek. Cullen breathed deeply as he continued to trail the object lightly across my skin, sending my nerves screaming with fear and excitement.

‘There is something about running a blade across your pale flesh that makes me want to fuck you very roughly.’ he murmured huskily, moving around to stand before me. The tip of the blade touched my breasts, running down to the peaks of my nipples where I drew my breath sharply, anxious over feeling the sting of steel.

‘You do not need to fear me.’ whispered Cullen next to my ear ‘Although I confess I would love to make a small cut across your ass and brand you as mine forever. Is that fiendish? Perhaps…yes perhaps I am just a little.’

The blade trailed from my breasts down to my stomach and then further to my thighs, the Commander pressing a little harder into my soft delicate flesh and causing me to flinch. I dared not make a sound, and yet I was so aroused I wanted to scream.

‘What are you thinking my pet?’ asked the templar softly, curiously, stroking my thigh with his fingers before replacing the blade and swirling a little harder against my skin.

I knew what I was thinking. It was the only thing that had been going through my head since he had placed it there, like a seed of perversity now growing in a fertile field.

Feeling a firm grip wrap around my throat, Cullen drew his mouth to my ear. ‘I asked you a question.’ he growled ‘What are you thinking?’

Catching my breath, I replied tentatively ‘I want you to fuck me in the…you know.’

Cullen chuckled, lightly tapping me on the buttocks. ‘Well if you cannot say it then how am I ever to know what you are talking about?’ taunted the Commander ‘Tell me, my sweet one, where would you like your Master to fuck you?’

The heat in my cheeks was unbearable as I stood there in the painful silence, knowing I had to speak what I was thinking. Thoughts that had been thought a thousand times before. Unspoken desires that I had fantasised about in my mind but never considered would happen on this night of nights. Every part of me was on fire and all I wanted was Cullen fucking me one way, and one way only.

‘I want you…’ I began ‘…I want you to fuck me in the arse, Master.’

Cullen chuckled, patting the flat side of the blade lightly against my wet cunt. I drew my breath sharp at the cold sensation, quivering from the thrill. ‘Are you sure you would not rather me fuck you here?’ he asked light-heartedly.

‘No Master.’ I replied shakily, feeling the moisture pool between my legs as I stood there with a blade flat on my lips. My heart was racing as Cullen went silent, and suddenly pulled the blade away.

Silence.

The moments dragged on and on and I could hear nothing. Perhaps he was just watching me there, naked and blind folded with my arms above me. Was he stroking himself? Was he about to touch me with that sharp blade again? Or was he about to do something else? I knew I couldn’t call out to him but the suspense was killing me and I had to know.

Suddenly a pair of hands came and undid the blindfold behind me, dropping the scarf to the floor as I was spun around to meet the smouldering eyes of Cullen.

‘Is this what you really want?’ he asked seriously, his amber gaze drilling into me ‘You need to be honest with me, this decision is about you and not me.’

‘I want this Master.’ I replied, locking my green eyes into his before letting them fall to the floor again.

Cullen grinned, placing a pleased kiss on my lips. ‘You are getting good at this.’ he murmured ‘And making me ache with a desire that is starting to hurt me and my loins. Who is the Master here now?’. Drawing his mouth to my neck, the Commander began to deeply kiss my skin with hard kisses ‘Your punishment is over. Time for pleasure.’

Pulling away from my body, Cullen walked to the nearby bookshelf and procured some almond oil in a small vial, something he often used to massage the knots out of his back after a hard day of training. Returning to me, Cullen began kissing my mouth again before pouring some of the oil over my breasts. Placing the vial down beside the bed, the Templar began to massage my breasts with his hands. Deep caresses that ended with light and playful pinches, causing more arousal and more whimpering in delight. Gently he moved forward, and I moved backwards, falling back onto the bed as the Commander climbed over me, his erection pressing hard against me. Tenderly he encouraged me onto my belly before climbing over me and kissing the back of my neck, which tingled every time his lips met my skin.

‘Are you ready for me?’ he murmured between kisses that trailed slowly down my spine.

I shivered as he planted wet kisses lower and lower, down my back and to the base of my spine. Feeling my cheeks parted by his strong hands, I drew my breath as I felt the warm breath of Cullen inches away from my pucker. With one erotic kiss, he planted his lips on my rosebud before retreating. My heart was pounding furiously as I felt the cold liquid of the sweet almond oil trailing down the crack of my buttocks. I knew the answer.

‘Yes Master, I am ready.’ I replied, my heart feeling like it would explode.

Pouring oil over his thick fingers, Cullen arrived at my rosebud and gently applied pressure.

‘Relax.’ he purred ‘We have done this part many times, we both know you can take more than this.’

Kissing my neck again as he gently pressed his fingers into my ring I moaned as I felt the Commander’s oiled fingers ease into me. Cullen moaned, pulling back his body to what I could assume was to watch, men being such visual creatures and all, as he eased his fingers in and out of my rear. The Commander continued to stroke, eager to warm me up before the magnum opus of Cullen presented itself. My back arched in delight as I felt the man stretch me open with his digits, the templar drawing near to recommence kissing me in the nape of my neck.

Cullen groaned as he finally withdrew his fingers. ‘I have been long desiring this.’ he murmured huskily, grabbing the vial of oil. I could feel droplets splash against my skin, and finally realised the Templar was pouring the oil directly on his hardness. ‘We shall go slowly my pet,’ informed Cullen ‘and if you feel any pain, any discomfort, you will tell me to stop. Do you understand? No pushing through the pain, this is not a punishment.’

‘I promise Master.’ I replied, biting my lip in overwhelming anticipation. The taste of a copper tang filled my mouth as I realised I had drawn blood from my lip.

‘Bend a little more forward.’ instructed Cullen gently, softly pressing my face down so my hips rose higher to meet him.

Resting on my forearms, my back was arched beautifully like a cat, waiting in delighted readiness.

The Commander positioned his warm hard cock at my pucker and slowly began to push his bulging head at the pulsating ring, catching his breath as he bathed in the first sensation of engulfment. Claiming something for him and him alone. I found myself still riding on a high from being denied to come. That was allowing me to put up little resistance where some usually would have been met with such a large intruder placed at the entrance of my rear end. The torturous game of depriving release had made me ravenous for stimulation and I craved his dick to impale my knot. The slippery head eased forward, painfully slow but torturously gratifying, until finally his warm head popped through into my passage, causing me to cry out in surprise and the Templar to moan in pleasure. Cullen was careful to stop and wait for me to adjust to his size, holding still as I moaned beneath him.

‘That’s the way.’ Cullen purred, kissing my back enthusiastically as he kept his member still ‘Take your time my darling.’

Biting my lip, I felt completely stretched to my limits like something shocking, and yet that warm buzz of pleasure filled me so intensely that I soon found myself pushing against the Commander’s cock, begging to be filled further. The sensation was incredible, like nothing I had experienced with the templar’s naughty fingers. From the eager hands running over my hips, and the heavy breathing from behind, I could tell Cullen was revelling in the sensation as well.

‘More Master.’ I begged, pushing back against him.

Cullen breathed in deeply as he held my hips firmly, preventing me from ramming into him. Stroking my back to pace both me and him, he chuckled. ‘Slowly in,’ murmured Cullen ‘trust me….oh….Maker….’

The Commander suddenly was at a loss for words as he embraced the feeling surrounding his shaft as I accepted him in a little further. I could feel him tighten as he eased his cock into my passage.

‘You are going to make be explode.’ he muttered, running his hands around to stroke my clit as he eased in even deeper.

Moaning, I let myself succumb to his exquisite impalement and flicking of my pearl. Feeling so full of his cock burying itself deeper and deeper within me, I bit my lip as Cullen finally groaned a long sigh of ecstasy as he buried himself to the hilt. Never had I felt so full and so satisfied.

‘This is utterly poetical.’ he murmured ‘Your graceful arse being filled with my manhood, so tight and warm and exquisitely perverse. You make your Master so very, very pleased.’

The templar began to slowly move his hips back and forward, a gentle thrusting as I started to cry out rather loudly. Being fucked by Cullen like this was unimaginably delectable and erotic. The searing heat within me, his scorching prick packing my bottom with a furious passion. The Templar groaned as he began to thrust a little firmer, the slap of his balls rubbing my clit beautifully and causing me to whimper louder in pleasure.

Cullen was soon drowning in his lust but I knew he was holding back on my account. The initial shock of his intrusion had dissipated and left me with a hunger that I needed to be satisfied. I wanted him to unleash himself on my pucker, and I pushed hard against his cock.

‘Fuck me harder Master, please make us come.’ I begged.

‘Maker’s breath how I adore it when you plead like that.’ he remarked huskily. Cullen’s breathing grew shorter and shorter, as if he was on the verge of spurting at any moment. Resting his weight firmly on his hands placed on either side of me, the Commander began to thrust his phallus hard up into my arse.

‘Do you want Master to come inside your rear?’ he asked wickedly, withdrawing his cock to the tip before impaling me firmly. I cried out at the sensation and felt searing pleasure stealing the words from my mouth.

‘Y-yes...Master.’ I whimpered in delight as Cullen maintained the long, firm penetrations.

Being fucked faster now, I began to cry out in pure unbridled delirium. The sensation was so overwhelming I found myself biting into my hand, a drawn out groan coming deep within me. Cullen grunted furiously behind me, fucking me with chaotic enthusiasm. His hips met my buttocks again and again, the meaty hardness of his wild dick ramming up with every growl released from the templar’s lips. Neither of us could hold on, it was all too intense.

‘Come my pet, let yourself go for me.’ ordered Cullen sternly, thrusting hard into my passage as he began to rub my clit in circles. I let out a scream, surprising even myself as I came over and over again, quivering and shaking from the orgasm engulfing me only to be replaced with another one…and another one. The templar let out a roar as he sated himself, releasing his seed deep into me in a serious of animalistic grunts. His fingers dug deep into my flesh, securing his groin hard against my buttocks. After several moments of deep jerks, the Commander slowly eased out of me.

‘Kill my parrot Cullen, that was intense!’ I cried out, the sensation still surging through my body as I revealed a reddened face to the smirking man.

The templar chuckled before collapsing on the bed, looking utterly spent and satisfied.

‘Ophelia I think you just bewitched me.’ he remarked euphorically, amber eyes glazed as he stared up at the ceiling and his chest rose up and down furiously. Beads of sweat lay on his brow and I could see his chest pounding. ‘Maker’s breath there are no words to describe how arousing that felt.’. Looking across to me, he raised a mocking brow ‘Kill my parrot?’

‘The Hanged Man.’ I replied with a grin, shaking my head ‘Never mind.’. Climbing towards the templar, I leant over and kissed him deeply. ‘Thank you for that fucking lovely experience.’ I chuckled.

Cullen raised an amused eyebrow at me ‘Rather delightful was it not?’. The templar sighed in contentment, bring his hands behind his head ‘I will be dreaming sweeter dreams tonight than I had ever hoped for.’

After a while of us lying there trying to catch our breath, I noticed a furrow on the brow of the Commander.

‘Everything will be all right, you’ll see.’ I reassured ‘Even if we have to make it so.’ Affectionately I ran my fingers along soft skin of his temple, trying to soften the crease lines of worry.

The Commander smiled, lacing his fingers through mine ‘A witch and now a mind reader. Naturally there is cause for concern, but I tend to agree with your beliefs. One way or another, we will have our vengeance.’

Biting my lip, I once again tasted the tang of blood and brought my finger to my lip where it revealed red. Casting a concerned look at the crimson, I knew that the only way to make things right was to spill more blood. And something about that still made me very uneasy…


	48. La Petite Morte

Before joining the Inquisition letters had been somewhat of a source of excitement and wonder for me. Never receiving any correspondence myself, I was able to experience the thrill vicariously through the other mages in the tower who would occasionally receive a letter from family and friends, baring wonderful news and delightful gossip. On the odd occasion the letter was secured with a package wrapped up in brown string and enclosed were often biscuits and a thick knitted shawl or socks. Trifle keepsakes that rallied the spirits of the recipient. I secretly longed for the day when a messenger would arrive before me and deliver into my hand one of these wonderful letters that inevitably came with good tidings.

Once again I found myself shaking my head at my deluded beliefs.

Staring down at the well-read letter before me, I glowered at the parchment with as much displeasure as I could muster. Delivered into my hand an hour ago by an official Chantry messenger, the correspondence had come all the way from The Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. A letter written by the Grand Cleric herself informing me that she was well aware that Grey Warden daggers had been found in the attack on Leliana and Cassandra.

Cursing under my breath, I knew the Inquisition was now placed in a critical situation for a number of reasons. Our secret of the Grey Warden blades no longer remained classified, and this in turn meant the Chantry would now seek reprisal for the act. From the tone of the letter we could be under no illusion that the Chantry believed the Inquisition had deceived them in not revealing the information about the blades. Again the Chantry had underhandedly now informed us of two groups that it was more than a little displeased with; The Grey Wardens and The Inquisition.

Even more unnerving was the fact that this unfortunate letter also revealed that there were agents of the Chantry in Skyhold that were sending information back to the Grand Cleric, unbeknownst to any of us. No one except a few people knew about the blades, and yet the Chantry had instantly been made aware of the fact. We had a leak, and no spymaster to help us find out who that person was.

Of course none of the above matters concerned me as much as the last paragraph in the letter. A paragraph that chilled me to the bone, and left my hand shaking as I beheld words of the crisp, unforgiving parchment.

Skyhold

Frostback Mountains, Orlais 

To the Inquisition,

In light of recent tragic events please be informed that we have received word of a disturbing nature. It has come to our attention that the Grey Wardens were involved in the murder of the former Left Hand of the Divine and the attempted murder of the former Right Hand of the Divine.

The Chantry expresses its great disappointment at the concealment of this information and requests immediate disclosure of all details the Inquisition has in regards to the attack. For the sake of peace we implore that you do not delay in this request.

We have received word that the body of our Sister Leliana has been sent to us herein Val Royeaux. The Chantry thanks you for sending her remains, and will ensure Leliana’s final resting place is here at The Great Cathedral.

In deep sadness and remorse, please be informed that the Election of the Divine had recently been concluded prior to Leliana’s death. The Grand Clerics came to a unanimous vote and Leliana had been declared at the Grand Consensus to act as the next Divine. An untimely decision that unfortunately never met the ears of the prospective or allowed her to take seat on the Sunburst Throne, although we all hold her revered position dear in our hearts. Her Most Holy will be honoured as Divine Victoria and laid to rest in the catacombs of the Stonegate.

May the Maker watch over Divine Victoria.

Grand Cleric Marcelline

The Grand Cathedral, Val Royeaux

9:42 Dragon, Verimensis

Shaking my head in disbelief, I knew this news would not bode well for anyone, least of all Cullen. Leliana had been correct in her vision. She had been destined to be the next Divine.

As I continued to stare hopelessly at the letter before me, a rather grimy youth appeared at the door. Standing with unlaced boots, black pants that were too short for him and a brown top that I suspected was once white, the young man cleared his voice with a raspy cough before announcing ‘Inquisita’ I got a missige.’

My heart dropped at the thought of any more news. Damn all letters, they were nothing but sealed messages of doom. ‘If it’s from the Chantry, please just send it back.’ I muttered cynically, rubbing my temples to alleviate the throbbing headache drumming in my head.

The boy looked puzzled, scratching his neck where a dirty neck kerchief was tied in a shabby knot ‘Nay ma’am, ‘tis Lord Athalwolf wanten’ words with ya. ‘Ee asked for ya to meet ‘im in the spell barracks.’

‘The mage tower?’ I remarked dryly.

Looking at me as if I was an imbecile, the youth nodded slowly ‘Aye ‘tis wot I said.’

Rubbing my eyes tiredly, I folded the letter from the Chantry and placed it into the young man’s hands ‘Give this to Commander Cullen directly. Don’t make any detours for card games, pleasantries, ale or anything else. Just make sure the Commander gets this right now.’

Running his sleeve across his nose, the youth nodded with a sniff before running off, leaving me to set out towards the mage tower.

Somewhat thankful that I was being distracted as Cullen received confirmation of Leliana’s new title, I made my way across the windy battlements on the long trek towards the mage tower. This news would only further fuel the opinion of Cullen, and even Michel, that Leliana may have been a prophet of the Maker. Despite her being deceased, she still left me feeling uneasy in the wake of this recent news. It was unsettling….

Appearing at the tower door, I was greeted by several mages slumped over a tired wooden table reading aged tomes with dog eared pages. Looking utterly bored and out of their depths, they pointed me upstairs in the direction of Athalwolf’s study, and I ascended the creaking stairs to the third story.

Arriving in his room, my eyes were drawn to an animated mage by the desk who beamed at me like a dog stumbling across a juicy bone.

‘Ophelia! Come in! Come in I say!’ cheered Athalwolf ‘I have wonderful news!’

The mage clapped his hands in delight as he beckoned me in, a definite excitement revealing itself in his voice and manner. Never had I seen black eyes filled with such light, shining with hope and determination.

Chuckling at my euphoric companion, I entered into his study that was as cluttered and messy as my own. Parchments and scrolls were piled high on his desk, a small plate of cinnamon bread sitting on top of the largest stack, while numerous glass flasks of strange coloured murky liquid lay scattered on the ground in between large dusty tomes and journals. Every inch of bookshelf and surface was covered with vials of dried herbs, a variety of stones, pots of dirt and brilliant coloured crystals; the bend in the wood straining under the weight of clutter and calamity. 

‘So here is where all the cheer from the keep has run off to.’ I observed, eyeing off my companion with amusement.

‘Something remarkable has happened!’ announced Athalwolf, rubbing his hands together in glee.

‘Did Severin finally separate the elfroot from the blood lotus’ I asked with a grin.

Athalwolf scoffed ‘Ho ho! I wish it were so. No, I gave up on that lost cause after the hundredth warning. The apprentice is a meathead, I have come to accept it.’. Grinning at me he delved into his black robe pocket and produced a pristine white letter ‘I have had word from Father!’

Casting him a confused look, I remarked hesitantly ‘Congratulations on corresponding with your family?’

Athalwolf groaned, playfully thrusting his arms out before him and pretending to strangle me. I chuckled at my companion, placing my arms defensively before me.

‘I’m sorry don’t hurt me!!!’ I cried out jokingly ‘Fine. What is so pleasing about receiving a letter from father.’

‘On any other day, nothing.’ mused Athalwolf. Throwing me a mischievous look that could only be interpreted as trouble, he added ‘I sent a letter to Father a few weeks ago requesting a wee favour.’. Running his hands through his black curls, Athalwolf looked up to me curiously ‘I am not sure how much you know about the Guildersleeves. We are somewhat…well off.’

‘Says the son of the wealthiest family in Thedas!’ I scoffed, rolling my eyes in disbelief.

‘Was it the golden carriage that gave it away?’ mused Athalwolf, a wide white smile revealed ‘Or the diamond encrusted staff I carry?’

Running a judgemental eye up and down the mage, I held a smirk ‘No I rather think it was extensive wardrobe of splendid clothing you shamelessly flaunt around Skyhold Mister I Wear Finely Crushed Black Orlesian Velvet With All The Trimmings.’

The mage grinned, looking down at his black velvet robe fondly ‘They say the epitome of good manners is to dress splendidly.’

‘You need to socialise with Dorian more, he’d love you for saying that.’ I retorted in amusement.

Athalwolf nodded ‘Well he is a mage that has remarkable manners. But now wait, you are distracting me from the important news! It is official! Father has offered me Riddlehamhope Castle. It is situated just outside Lydes in The Heartlands. It is my estate now!’

‘Uhhh…congratulations on becoming a property owner?’ I replied uncertainly, shaking my head as I began to laugh. ‘Somewhat wealthy he says…as his father hands him the keys to a blasted castle!’ I chortled, casting an incredulous look to my companion.

Athalwolf groaned, thrusting the letter to playfully tap my on the head ‘No numb-nuts! Do you not see? This estate is for us! We can build the Mage Order here at Riddlehamhope Castle!’

Pausing with a furrowed brow to take in the offer, now unfolding as the largest blessing in disguise, I suddenly rushed towards the mage and threw my arms around his neck.

‘Athalwolf…you are a saviour!!!!’ I cried out ‘Bless you, bless you dear man! Do you know what this means? We finally have the same standing as the Templars! Well in regards to having our own land to establish the Order. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!’

Pulling away, we were both grinning like mischievous children in the revelation of what had fallen to our feet.

‘No, thank you!’ replied an ecstatic Athalwolf ‘If not for your support of the mages none of this would have been possible. If the Templar Order can set up their headquarters in Ostagar, then we should appear legitimate also and set up somewhere that is not inside Skyhold in a tilting rundown shambles. It will show the legitimacy of our endeavour, and give somewhere for the mages of Thedas to reside. Oh Ophelia if you could only see the place! It is grand! Grand I say! We could house and train so many, and under the protection of a strong stone castle.’

‘I had no idea Lord Byron was so sympathetic to the mages cause?’ I remarked, somewhat astonished.

Athalwolf slyly pulled a curl back behind his ear, a knowing smile on his face. ‘Father is a chevalier, there is no common ground between him and I. However I may have sent a letter to Mother as well, stating how important this endeavour was to me. Mother is very sympathetic to mages.’

‘Is she a mage herself?’ I inquired with a curious smile.

‘Grand-mère was a mage.’ replied Athalwolf ‘Who I am told I remind Mother of in looks and character. Where Father could refuse me, I knew Mother could not.’

‘Brilliant.’ I chuckled clapping my hands in applause ‘Here’s to many more years of playing your parents against each other, it seems to serve us rather well!’

Athalwolf waved the letter excitedly in his hands ‘Let us ride out there tomorrow! I need to show you the place immediately.’

Biting my lip, my companion sighed in disappointment and emitted a groan of frustration. ‘Can it not wait?’ pleaded the mage.

‘Cullen and I set out to the Western Approach tomorrow.’ I remarked dismally. Frowning, I suddenly looked up ‘Why not come along with us? We pass by Lydes on the way to the Western Approach, I’m sure our party would oblige one small detour?’

Athalwolf raised an unconvinced eyebrow ‘You propose to show the head of the Templar Order where we intend to set up the Mage Order?’

‘Why ever not!’ I chuckled ‘It’s not a secret lair, it’s the official residency of the Mage Order! Who better than the head of the Templar Order to witness the headquarters of our Mage Order. Cullen can return to the templars and further add validity to our cause without even knowing it, just by saying that he bore witness to the place where the order will be set up. Yes, let Cullen and everyone see Riddlehamhope Castle!’

‘I suppose….’ replied the mage doubtfully before beaming once more ‘Fine! It must show how excited I am that I cannot wait and would rather play host to Knight-Commander Cullen than wait another few weeks. It is done, I shall join you on your journey to seal the rift in The Sulfur Lakes.’

‘Ah about that.’ I remarked, lowering my voice ‘Can you keep a rather largish secret? The thing is, Cullen made up that story about the rift so no one would know the real nature of our journey. We are actually going to Adamant Fortress to talk about the issue of finding the Grey Warden blades in the attacks against Leliana and Cassandra.’

Athalwolf grew a little more serious, his face not as vibrant as before. ‘That…sounds like a bit of an awkward trip then.’ he murmured uneasily.

‘An understatement if ever there was one.’ I sighed.

‘Perhaps I should allow you to conduct your business and await your return?’ added the mage, folding his arms against his chest.

Waving my hand, I tried to dismiss the mage’s sudden melancholy ‘Oh no you don’t! You were determined to show me this place moments before, you are coming! I won’t lie, there may be some tension in Adamant but we do not intend to stay there long. Say that you will come?’

Athalwolf hesitated, looking more unwilling to depart upon knowing the real nature of the journey. I nodded in encouragement.

‘Please?’ I begged ‘I desperately want to see this castle.’

Rubbing his eyes, Athalwolf broke into a small smile. ‘Fine, fine.’ sighed the mage, casting his dark eyes upon me ‘Of course! I shall begin packing my things now.’

‘Good man!’ I grinned, departing with a nod ‘Best get some rest, we set off at dawn.’

~o~o~

In the cold winter morning as the first rays of sun arose, our party saddled their horses and rode out down Gherlen’s Pass. Wanting to make good time, the first half of the day was spent riding hard and fast, reaching the Imperial Highway as late afternoon arrived. Being able to focus on a strong gallop was welcomed, considering the atmosphere was a little lacking in warmth that had nothing to do with the weather. Cullen had been deathly quiet since being advised of the news that Leliana was to be the next Divine. It was not anger he revealed, nor was any animosity directed towards me, but there was a definite sadness that filled the templar and I knew Cullen needed time to reflect upon such matters in solitude. He said nothing but thought much, and perhaps I feared what those thoughts might be.

Meanwhile Michel de Chevin, The Iron Bull and his Charges; Krem, Stitches, Rocky, and Skinner, had also joined the entourage to Adamant Fortress. Cullen was determined to keep the mission silent, and did not want to bring along the usual Inquisition soldiers on this particular journey. However he was determined to bring along the Maister of Blades and this did not put my mind at ease. The moment the ex-chevalier and I crossed paths at the stables at the keep that morning it had been awkward and uncomfortable. Michel refused to look at me in the eye, and I began to follow suit soon after. During our journey down the mountain things inevitably got worse, as we both avoided riding beside each other or exchanging even one word. It seemed childish, but we both were hurt and unwilling to resolve the matter. A matter that seemed unresolvable.

After covering nearly a full day of traveling our horses were tired and slowly trotted along the wet gravel road of the Imperial Highway, wearily passing by the occasional weatherworn merchant caravan and fatigued traveller. Cullen led on at a distance, lost in his thoughts, while the Iron bull and his mercenaries rode behind, laughing and joking along the way.

‘Hey Maister, you got a pretty good thing going there with Gwendolyn’ remarked the Iron Bull bluntly ‘I know about half a dozen guys who were after her before you jumped in.’

Krem chuckled as the ex-chevalier nodded silently at the comment, keeping his head forward on the path before him.

‘Ah Chief you’ve gone and embarrassed him.’ jested Krem, sweeping his crop of brown hair off his forehead as he watched the ex-chevalier’s aloof response with amusement.

‘Embarrassed. Right.’ replied the Bull, looking unconvinced ‘We’re talking about the man who has mastered the art of charming and seducing women. Besides it was a compliment, Krem de la crème.’

‘Compliment, right boss.’ dismissed Krem ‘A compliment would be saying Gwendolyn is a nice girl.’

‘She is.’ agreed the Bull ‘She also has the best tits in the keep and Maister over there gets to run his mits over them whenever he likes.’

‘Good point.’ chuckled Krem ‘Mits on tits, nothing better than that.’

Michel laughed softly at the pair, throwing a glance towards them ‘I will be sure to relay your compliment to Gwendolyn and hope she sees the promise in those observations.’

‘Speaking of hands, I need to learn that thing you did to those girls from the other night.’ frowned the Iron Bull ‘What did you call it?’

Michel grew quiet again, a slight kick in the sides of his horse as he seemed to hasten the pace of his animal. ‘I do not think I recall the incident.’ he muttered.

‘Oh ha ha that’s right!’ chuckled Krem, slapping his hand on his thigh ‘Come on Maister, you remember! You did it to about four or five lasses the other night just to prove a point on how a chevalier can woo a woman. Remember Chief here claimed you were full of shit? Boy you showed him eh?’

‘One kiss was all it took to make them fall under your spell.’ recalled an impressed Iron Bull ‘I’m not a fan of magic, but that is a trick I need to learn.’

‘No magic involved.’ replied Michel lowly ‘Just one too many drinks and too much bravado.’

‘Ah it was good stuff whatever it was.’ remarked the Iron Bull in admiration.

Krem clicked his fingers ‘La petite mort. That’s what you called it! What does it mean again?’

Michel shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. ‘The little death.’ replied the ex-chevalier, gripping his reins tight ‘That moment experienced during…intimate release.’

The Iron bull laughed loudly, his voice echoing across the plains ‘You mean getting off? Ahhh you knights sure have a strange way with words.’

The Orlesian tilted his head to the Qunari ‘La baiser de la petite mort is the kiss of little death. A chevalier’s kiss on the hand of a lady is likened to it. Silly tales spun in the Orlesian courts by courtesans with wild imaginations and nothing more.’

‘Bullshit!’ replied the Iron Bull ‘Krem and I both saw you try that kiss of yours on the back of the hands of several women. It was like you were hypnotising them with your eyes while you planted one on their hand. Had them fucking melting on the spot.’

The group chuckled in approval as Stitches blew a kiss to Krem and Skinner.

‘Wouldn’t mind learning that one me’self.’ remarked Krem ‘Can’t let Maister here steal all the lasses now, can we?’

‘Too late for late, Krem brûlée.’ chuckled the Iron Bull.

Pulling my reins back, I slowed my pace to distance myself from the conversation before me. I was surprised my eyes were open considered how narrow they had grown, responding somewhat with disdain to the banter before me. Athalwolf had also remained quiet by my side, and slowed his horse to match my pace.

Throwing his sympathetic black eyes to me, he remarked in a low voice ‘Between you and me, Gwendolyn is a lopsided tart from South Reach with terrible taste in clothing.’

I chuckled, feeling a little better at the observation. Not that Michel’s choice of partner, or partners, were any concern of mine but it eased the discomfort I felt nevertheless.

Shaking my head, I replied softly under my breath ‘I don’t even know why it bothers me.’

The mage shrugged ‘Feelings are complicated like that.’

Turning to my companion, I pondered a moment whether to ask the question that had been weighing on my mind for some time. ‘Forgive me for prying and tell me if it’s none of my concern, but you and Leliana. Were the two of you involved for some time?’

Athalwolf shook his head solemnly, his eyes cast down to the ground before us. ‘No.’ he replied seriously ‘In fact the first time we struck up a friendship was that night over some wine. It was foolish. Now I am left with a terrible regret I cannot take away.’

‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ I replied forthrightly ‘there is no knowing what may have happened if you had stayed with Leliana that night. Who knows what the outcome may have been? You may be dead yourself now.’

‘The morbid reality of my self-preservation is the only thing that justifies my actions.’ muttered the mage darkly. Turning up to meet my eyes, he nodded ‘Your kind words are always appreciated, as is the friendship we have.’. The mage smiled ‘Sometimes it feels like we are two peas in a pod, you and I. A couple of eccentric mages trying to save the realm, and our own kind along the way.’

I looked over to him fondly, and then shook my head ‘Never mind…’ I replied sheepishly.

‘What?’ remarked Athalwolf, now looking amused ‘Were you about to tell me how magnificent I am?’. Playfully pushing me in the arm, he began to chant ‘Ophelia thinks I’m brilliant, Ophelia thinks I’m fantastic…fa la la la laa la la la laaaa!’

‘Be quiet you doltish pickle!’ I retorted with a chuckle ‘I was about to say that you feel like the sibling I never had. Cross my heart-

‘-and hope to die?’ mused Athalwolf ‘Stick a needle in your eye?’

Grimacing, I placed a hand on my temple. ‘Let’s hope not!’ I chortled. Looking over to the mage I added seriously ‘The circumstances around how you arrived at Skyhold were abhorrent. But I am glad you are here with us, Athalwolf. And now us working together to establish the Mage Order. There is no better person I could have asked for to work side by side in this endeavour for the benefit of all mages.’

Athalwolf threw me a gentle smile, patting my arm softly ‘Me too Ophelia, I could not have asked for a better mage to work with, or friend. We have a promising future ahead of us and I am thankful for that more than you could possibly imagine.’ The mage’s attention suddenly drew ahead, examining the landscape before him. Athalwolf kicked his feet in his stirrups ‘I need to talk to Cullen about the path to take to the castle, there is a road up here that can save us some valuable time.’

Watching the mage ride on, I unfortunately found my horse drifting up to meet up with the Chargers once more. Pursing my lips, I pulled the reins tight but the mare reached the Orlesian’s horse and was determined to ride beside.

‘Ah, here’s a woman’s opinion we can get.’ exclaimed the Iron Bull ‘Boss, tell us straight. Does the whole chevalier thing work on all women, or would you rather a beast of a warrior? Rippled and muscles. You know, with horns and stuff.’

‘That’s chief’s subtle way of askin’ whether you’d choose him or Michel.’ whispered Krem, flashing me a playful wink.

My eyes passed briefly over the ex-chevalier, whose blue eyes flickered into mine for a moment before turning away.

Shrugging, I turned to the Iron Bull who was grinning in anticipation. ‘I’m not the type of woman to fall for cheap parlour tricks,’ I remarked bluntly ‘I’m afraid I would disappoint any chevalier for trying.’. With mocking observation, I added ‘And yes Bull, you are a beast of a man that I could never resist. Please stop me from tearing off my clothes off right now.’

Krem burst out laughing, and the Iron Bull joined him, overly amused at the reply as his clapped his large hands together. However Michel remained quiet, maintaining a stern look ahead and a tight jaw.

I cared not.

Kicking in my heels with furious determination, I rode past the ex-chevalier and up to the front of the line where Cullen led the group.

Michel had told me he refused to play games, and by the Maker I was not about to entertain the same with him. Shaking my head, I tried to ignore the taunting voice at the back of my head that whispered to me that unintentionally what we were both doing, was indeed, a game in itself. Our proclamations had proven false, and we were once more entertaining a game that was hurting each other.


	49. Revelations

_When the lamp of the thirteenth seal was lit the breath of the life returned._

_The Maker outstretched his benevolent hand and paid heed to the mortal cries._

_For he had seen the sun grew cold, the land turn barren and a river of blood flowed freely._

_Three false godheads would threaten Thedas as tears of fire fell from the skies._

_And the faithful beheld what they knew was to come, and the faithless were given a sign to believe._

_And so it was…._

_The phoenix rose at the breaking of dawn. The first bell tolled in her eminence._

_For she would return as a symbol of peace and figure of righteousness._

_In His name, she would strike the unworthy and cleanse the realm once more._

_Light would consume shadow and shadow would consume light._

_And the faithful beheld what they knew was to come, and the faithless were given a sign to believe._

_And so it was…._

_Darkness surrounded the traitor as his flesh melted away, revealing charred bone and ash._

_For he came from the blood of the cursed and spoke in the tongue of the Tenebris Sunt._

_In righteous flame he was cleansed and reborn into the flesh of the pure._

_The searing pain forced him to rise from the ashes into a sea of red._

_And the faithful beheld what they knew was to come, and the faithless were given a sign to believe._

_And so it was…._

_And the traitor became the Left Hand and served as her most faithful._

_And the lover became the Right Hand and served as her most loyal._

_To bring peace into the realm once more, an era of halcyon._

_As the Maker saw it, so shall it be._

_And the faithful beheld what they knew was to come, and the faithless were given a sign to believe._

_And so it was…._

Green eyes flashing open, she drew a deep sharp breath into her chest as it expanded with air after thirteen days of being without.

Awaking from a dream so beautiful, she found her back pressed hard against a cold white marble slab. Her eyes beheld the gilded rib-vaulted arched ceiling painted with a mural of Andraste at the stake, a burning blade in her heart. A magnificent circular window from the upper wall shone brilliant rays of red, blue and purple light through the stained glass down across the dark room. A recognisable and illustrious piece of art, and one she knew well, for it resided in the Stonegate Catacombs in Val Royeaux.

Several cries sounded across the room, with fear and disbelief the worshippers fell to their knees as Leliana rose from her resting place. A heavy metal candelabra fell loudly onto the stone floor as it was knocked over by one brother that fled from the catacombs in sheer terror.

The eyes of the faithful lowered in reverence, the murmuring on their lips repeating over and over again; Behold the resurrection of Divine Victoria. Glory to the Maker. Behold the resurrection of Divine Victoria. Praise be her name.

####

Having seen a few castles over the years, Riddlehamhope Castle did not disappoint in comparison. Built entirely of Orlesian bluestone, a common yet strong material used to build many of the chateaus and castles in Orlais, it was a solid and impressive fortification. Well over five hundred years old it appeared as sturdy as the day it had been built and well designed to defend itself. The castle was surrounded by a loop of the Odet River that served as a natural moat to protect from enemies. It had three enclosures; the outside being for defensive purposes, the middle being used for everyday life and protection of surrounding villages in times of war, and the inner being for immediate protection of the keep. Similar to the design of Skyhold, although much smaller in scale. A large tower resided at each corner of the outside layer of the fortification and extended over the walls; and within each encased a tall spiralling staircase leading to the top.

Riding over the large drawbridge we found ourselves in a spacious bailey within the castle, the courtyard open and welcoming for many numbers to entertain. There was a Great Hall, and while considerably lesser in size than that of Skyhold, it was a warm and welcoming place to spend the cold Lydes nights. Vast were the number of rooms to house our intended mages, large were the keep’s herb and vegetable gardens, bountiful were the wells, and the kitchen was substantial and capable of feeding many.

Although the castle was now empty, there were groundkeepers and a few staff that resided on the premises and they happily greeted their new master Lord Athalwolf and provided a tour of the grounds and inner keep to our curious party. Walking around the ramparts afforded us a spectacular view of green meadows and surrounding oak forests of The Heartlands. There was a local village nearby, and healthy crops growing wheat and maize. The grass was fertile and the mooing of cows could be heard in between the occasional bleating of sheep. Idyllic and peaceful, I anticipated visiting the place more often than now.

Even Cullen appeared impressed with the structure, remarking in jest that it was worthy of king rather than a rag-taggle bunch of mages. However we were soon reminded by the Commander not to dilly-dally, and return to our travels. Although disheartened to leave our new guild so soon after arrival, Athalwolf and I were unable to wipe the content smiles off our smug faces as we trotted along towards the Western Approach.

Three days further of steady travel and we finally met the red sands of the desert and begrudgingly pushed forward, none of us too fond at the prospect of returning to Adamant Fortress. Squinting our eyes against the hot desert sun and flying grains of sand in the warm breeze, we finally spotted the familiar fortress in the distance. However unlike previous journeys, we were greeted by a group approaching flying the banner of the Grey Wardens behind them. To our surprise we were diverted and led to the nearby ruins of a Tevinter ritual tower, where we were politely informed that refreshments were awaiting our party.

Gathering around the crumbling heap of sandstone and stairs, once a mighty Imperium structure dedicated to magical experimentation now resorted to ruin, we waited for some time in growing anticipation. It was an odd place to greet one’s guests and we were more than a little puzzled as to why we had been directed here of all places.

Casting his eyes across The Sand Flats, Cullen refused to relax as he paced across the stone platform. Watchful and silent, he would stop every now and then to scrutinise the horizon before returning to a heavy stride. While the Iron Bull’s mercenaries took delight in the spiced bread, sops, a white lumpy pottage, and mead provided by the Wardens, the rest of us were a little more on edge at the unfamiliar surroundings.

‘Hey Boss I don’t like to be one to say this, but something doesn’t feel right about this.’ muttered the Iron Bull as he stood alongside the Commander ‘I’m not the one for playing host but I’d be betting it doesn’t usually take place in the ass-end of some Imperium ruins.’

Cullen nodded, wrapping his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword before resting upon it. ‘I’d be inclined to agree with you.’ replied the Commander ‘The hospitality of the Grey Wardens is somewhat lacking considering former receptions. If I had to guess, I would say they wanted us as far away from Adamant Fortress as they could politely manage. The question is, why?’. His attention caught something in the distance, and the Commander clicked his fingers to the others.

‘Riders ahead approaching.’ remarked Michel de Chevin sharply, standing to join Cullen at the edge of the platform ‘Three Wardens by the look of it.’

‘You might get your answer sooner than you thought.’ observed the Qunari cynically. Casting his eyes to his mercenaries gorging themselves, the Iron Bull snapped his fingers at the group ‘Chargers, cups down and eyes sharp.’

We watched on uncertainly, hands at the ready of our weapons until the faces of the three people on horseback became clear. It was Warden-Commander Alistair and two other Grey Wardens.

His reddish brown hair was messy and Alistair appeared more than a little fatigued as he dismounted by the stone ruins, a stern look on his face as he approached. Shaking our hands one by one, the Grey Warden no longer held the joviality of former days. Something was wrong. Something had changed.

‘Inquisition please accept my personal condolences for the death of Leliana.’ Alistair remarked solemnly ‘We were all grieved to hear about it.’. Looking around at the party who examined him with growing suspicion, the Warden-Commander sighed in understanding. ‘You must excuse me for arranging to see you away from our fortress.’ apologised Alistair ‘Considering matters I felt there was little choice but to receive you away from the Order.’

‘We have come only to talk, Warden-Commander.’ acknowledged Cullen.

Michel and I noticed the reaction of Alistair to the formal address bestowed by Cullen. Although title was a form of respect, in this case it was being used as a form of distancing ourselves from their friendship. We knew it, and so too did Alistair.

The ex-chevalier added quickly with a smile ‘Yes Alistair, we have only come to speak about a few matters that can no longer be swept aside, however much we wanted them otherwise.’

‘I suspected as much. Please let me speak plainly then.’ responded Alistair directly ‘We received a letter from the Chantry informing us they were aware of evidence that connected the Grey Warden’s to the death of Leliana and attempted assassination of Cassandra Pentaghast. As Warden-Commander I must officially inform the Inquisition that we were not behind these attacks.’

‘Please believe us when we say the Inquisition does not think the Grey Warden Order was behind this.’ I replied swiftly, casting my eyes to my companions who all nodded apart from Cullen ‘I think we all can agree on that much.’

Alistair continued solemnly ‘And yet your arrival to Adamant perhaps sends a different message? The Inquisitor and the Commander of the Inquisition come here personally to meet with the Grey Wardens with no notice and in regards to a matter that in your eyes warrants no suspicion on our behalf.’

‘Alistair this is no army we have brought to your doorstep.’ I dismissed lightly ‘We were pressed to meet with you after receiving a similar, albeit threatening, letter from the Chantry. They sought to blame the Grey Wardens, and the Inquisition for not informing them about the blades.’

‘Although we concealed the fact from the Chantry, anticipating that it would cause more trouble than good, we cannot ignore the fact that there were Grey Warden blades at the sight.’ observed Cullen ‘As Commander of the Inquisition I need to make sense of what and who we are dealing with, as does the Grey Wardens. Our very own Council members were murdered and attacked, and your Order it seems has been framed.’

The Warden-Commander cast an annoyed look to the Commander. ‘Did you not think to inform me of this matter?’ asked Alistair irritably ‘The first time we received word of this was from the Chantry. Did you not think an attack that involved our Order should have been brought to our attention?’

‘That is what we were trying to do now.’ replied Cullen dryly.

Alistair clenched his jaw, refraining from further hostility and turned to his men ‘I need a few moments to speak with the Inquisition Council.’. He flashed an eye towards the Iron Bull and his mercenaries ‘Make sure the Inquisition soldiers enjoy the refreshments.’

Rubbing their hands in delight the Chargers recommenced their feasting, as the Iron Bull crossed his hands in front of him and watched on with a zealous guardedness.

Alistair turned back to me ‘If you, Cullen and Michel would ride with me? I have matters I would speak of.’

Throwing a nod to Athalwolf, who threw me back a knowing nod of his own before turning to sample some of the spiced bread, we commenced to ride over the red sands once more. Weaving our way along the great chasm of the Abyssal Rift, Alistair finally directed us to a small secluded area surrounded by tall rock and shaded by the cliff side. It afforded a magnificent view of the surrounding plains that left one feeling significantly smaller in the larger scale of life.

Alistair paused to look out across the view, breathing in the warm air through his nostrils. ‘No matter how much I miss Ferelden I could get used to living in a place like this. If I knew in my heart that we were accomplishing something for the greater good, anything can be sacrificed. And yet there is one thing that even I am not willing to sacrifice.’. Casting his attention to us, Alistair added darkly ‘I know who you suspect is behind this attack on Leliana and Cassandra. I assure you she is not involved.’

Michel and I grew uncomfortably quiet, unable to find words to counteract that remark. Shifting our eyes to the view before us, we painfully waited for the Commander to address the situation.

Silently pondering the words with a nod, Cullen finally responded ‘Naturally you must see why it would appear otherwise?’

‘Sierra was here at Adamant when the attacks occurred.’ retorted Alistair ‘I know she and Leliana did not see eye to eye but-’

Cullen scoffed at this remark as Alistair grew more serious.

‘I know Cullen.’ he remarked determinedly ‘You forget, I was there at the temple of Sacred Ashes all those years ago. I witnessed what Sierra did to Leliana. I am not here to dismiss what has happened, only to refute your false suspicions.’

‘And yet you truly believe that there is no possibility that Sierra may have been involved in this bloody murder?’ asked Cullen in disgust ‘Alistair this is not a personal attack against you or her. Sierra is a suspect and I would seek to speak with her, like any other.’

‘She is not in Adamant at the moment.’ replied Alistair sternly.

A threw an uneasy eye to Cullen, who sighed heavily. ‘No Alistair, she is here.’ replied Cullen tiredly ‘I understand why you are trying to protect Sierra and would not cast judgement in your concealment, but we have word that she remains here at Adamant Fortress at the present.’

‘So the Inquisition is spying on the Grey Wardens now?’ observed Alistair heatedly, the grip of the leather rein tightening in his hand ‘And you wonder why we have not welcomed you into Adamant Fortress as guests?’

‘All we want to do is talk to Sierra.’ added Michel gently, throwing a reassuring nod to the Warden-Commander ‘We need to understand what has happened.’

‘If she is innocent then there is nothing to fear.’ added Cullen ‘Your actions of keeping from us cast her in a guilty light, if anything.’

‘No Commander, my actions are that of a man that is protecting his beloved.’ muttered Alistair, his face looking dark. ‘I would not trust you in determining her guilt more than I would trust any biased persecutor. Sierra has made mistakes in the past but that does not mean she can be accursed for every misdeed that happens to Leliana.’

‘Misdeed.’ spat Cullen ‘Leliana was found dead in Skyhold with a Grey Warden blade stuck in her chest and you expect me not to question the last person who did that to her with a Grey Warden blade twelve years prior? A failed murder attempt at that, and one Sierra was never held accountable for. Call in coincidental if you must, but allow me the benefit of the doubt.’

‘Alistair we mean no ill-will.’ I added genuinely, feeling the coldness of betrayal seep into my skin as I uttered the fictitious words. ‘If indeed you say the Grey Wardens are not involved, we still need to talk to anyone who had qualms with Leliana.’

‘Half of Thedas would have had issues with your Spymaster.’ exasperated Alistair, growing more impatient at our appeals ‘It is no secret that she entertained more enemies than friends.’

‘Such is the way of life?’ pointed out Michel ‘It makes no excuse for the crime committed against her.’

‘If Sierra was found dead with a blade of the Inquisition in her chest, would you not expect of us the same courtesy?’ argued Cullen strongly.

The Grey Warden chuckled bitterly ‘Cullen you compare apples with oranges. Were Sierra murdered and I marched over to Skyhold demanding to interrogate Ophelia here, I wonder how you would really react?’

‘If Ophelia had attempted to murder Sierra in a previous incident I would say you had good cause.’ chortled Cullen ‘That of course is assuming that I did not let my personal feelings interfere with what is right and dutiful.’

The Grey Warden shook his head, throwing a cold look towards the Commander ‘No I am sorry but we do not see eye to eye. In regards to the Grey Warden blades, I am officially informing the Inquisition that we were framed by a third party. The Grey Wardens would never attack any member of the Inquisition. In regards to Sierra Amell being the perpetrator, once again you are wrong and I will not have you drag her into a witch hunt to appease your grief.’. Alistair threw a short nod of farewell ‘Ophelia. Cullen. Michel. I am sorry we could not provide any further aid in this attack. I wish you well in the pursuit of your attacker, but rest assured you will not find them here at Adamant Fortress.’

Kicking in his heels the Warden-Commander rode off and down towards Adamant Fortress, leaving us with annoyed frowns and little more.

‘Unbelievable.’ remarked Cullen dryly as he watched the riding figure grow smaller in the distance ‘And he wonders why we refrained from sending word of our arrival? A few more days’ notice and we would have been received by a pack of darkspawn and refreshments from our delightful hosts.’

‘He is defending his beloved.’ pointed out Michel ‘Personal matters will trump political.’

Cullen raised his brow but remained silent, a cynical look his only reply to the ex-chevalier’s observations.

‘Come on.’ I sighed, turning my mare around ‘Let’s hope Rylen has made up the beds in the guest quarters.’

####

The metal gates of Adamant Fortress were closed to us that night, but across the sandy plains the gates of The Griffon Wing Keep welcomed us warmly. The Inquisition soldiers cheered us in from the battlements above and gathered in the merchant yard as they saw their Commander and Maister of Blades returning, alongside with the Inquisitor. Welcomed by distinct smell of cumin, tumeric and cloves, amongst the brilliant display coloured shade sails, the keep was the same bustling, busy and vibrant fortification that we had grown to love.

Hooves clopping hard against the sand and stone, Cullen dismounted enthusiastically and with wide arms and an even wider smile embraced the brown haired man beaming before him.

‘Rylen!’ shouted out Cullen, clasping the man in an affectionate bear hug ‘You look well man!’

The Knight-Commander chuckled, returning the embrace with a vigorous slap on the Commander’s back ‘Cullen my friend, it is good to see you riding up a storm as always! Some things never change eh?’. Turning to the rest of the party, he drew up his arms ‘The Griffon Wing Keep sends its warmest greetings! You are all very welcome!’

‘My friend, we apologise for the short notice.’ added Cullen, walking over to help me off my horse. The Commander’s strong hands gripped firmly around my waist and carried me effortlessly off the tall beast. I nodded in thanks, trying to ignore the smirks from the leering soldiers on the battlements above.

Rylen chuckled ‘A guard comes to me and informs me the Inquisition are visiting. I ask when? And the man points out the bloody gate and says now!’

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head ‘Well it’s good to keep you on your toes, one day I intend to catch you sunbaking out the back.’

The Knight-Commander laughed boisterously, pointing his finger at the Commander ‘Don’t get me started with the stories I could tell about you when we were in Kirkwall.’

Cullen laughed ‘All naturally would be heavily refuted and denied of any plausibility.’

Smiling widely, Rylen noticed the Orlesian dismounting. ‘Michel!’ greeted Rylen warmly, clasping the man on the arm as the smiling Orlesian approached ‘It is good to see you return to us again! Can’t keep you away from here, can we?’

The ex-chevalier chuckled, running his blue eyes across the keep ‘Rylen you know me. I missed the heat and roast phoenix too much.’

‘Never have to cook a meal out here eh? We just collect various roast animals that get caught in the blasted sun! You see, this place is a fair jot better than your ice palace in the mountains.’

‘I never could resist a company of sweaty soldiers in the desert.’ taunted Michel ‘Or ones that lost in Wicked Grace so easily.’

‘Bah, you Orlesians are all the same!’ chortled Rylen, turning to me with a softer smile and gentler shake of the hand ‘Inquisitor it is always a delight to have you at The Griffon Wing Keep. I hope our last meeting has not changed any rapport you and I may have had. Please know there was nothing personal intended to offend during that meeting.’

I smiled in appreciation at the sentiment, nodding my head in thanks ‘None taken I assure you. Water under the bridge. Oh, and I am glad to see you in good health Rylen.’

The Knight-Commander returned the appreciative smile, a twinkle in his eye as he turned back to the party. ‘So what brings you out here to the hot end of Thedas?’ asked Rylen pleasantly ‘Don’t tell me more sightings of Venatori because Maker knows I’m fed up with that bunch.’

Cullen waved his hand to dismiss the question and the Knight-Commander drew his breath, wincing silently ‘Ah one of those trips eh? Well say no more, say no more. Come let us have you all settled in!’

####

Sitting in our small quarters, I looked out into the calm night of the desert from the stone window. A blanket of stars filled the sky and the stillness lulled me into a peaceful state. A state that I was soon stirred from as my mind wandered back to the task that lay before us.

Sitting at an old wooden table, Cullen was sharpening his blade with a whetstone the size of his palm. Running it up and down the steel, his amber eyes were fixated on the sharp edge before catching me staring at him.

‘You do not need to come with me tomorrow.’ observed Cullen seriously ‘It would be best if you stayed here.’

‘Best for who? Sierra?’ I scoffed, drawing myself away from the window ‘No I am coming with you.’

My concerned thoughts betrayed themselves through my worried expression as I approached the Commander.

‘What is it?’ Cullen asked, stopping the rub of the whetstone.

‘You are acting on assumption.’ I muttered ‘What if you speak to Sierra tomorrow and realise that she is not behind this?’

Cullen rolled his eyes at the comment, apparently unconvinced, as he recommenced the sharpening of his blade.

‘There will be no understanding or forgiveness from Alistair when he learns you abducted his significant other.’ I added, ignoring the cynicism ‘You saw how angry he is with us. I’ve never seen that side to him. Imagine what he could be capable of if he found out that we were behind the abduction of Sierra?’

‘If that harpy is going to hide behind the gates of Adamant then I will force her to come out irrespective of her guilt or innocence.’ replied Cullen solidly ‘You do not know Nathaniel as I do, he is a smart lad. Sierra will not appear to have been abducted, rather it will look like she left of her own accord. The man knows her penhand well and how to write a note that even Alistair could not question in legitimacy. When the Warden-Commander wakes up tomorrow he will find an apologetic note informing him that she needed to leave for a while. Meanwhile Nathaniel has arranged to bring Sierra to The Lost Spring Canyon at dawn. Her trial awaits whether she wants it or not.’

‘Alistair knows there is a spy in the Order now.’ I added uneasily ‘And so too will Sierra by tomorrow.’

Cullen scraped at the point of the blade with sharp calculated strokes ‘Nathaniel is an expert rogue, he knows the danger of the game he joined. I have no concerns about his safety and I suspect he will not remain at Adamant Fortress if he suspects there is a threat. He will always have a place in the Inquisition.’

‘I don’t like any of this.’ I muttered, drawing my hands to wrap around my shoulders.

‘That is why I want you to stay.’ appealed Cullen gently ‘I have spoken to Michel and Athalwolf. They will be there with me tomorrow. You do not need to come along Ophelia. Maker knows I would sleep better tonight if you agreed to stay behind.’

‘You told them what you intend to do?’ I remarked in surprise.

Cullen lowered his blade and placed it carefully onto the table ‘What you mentioned before we left Skyhold rang true. We are facing a powerful malificar here. I put it very plainly to them what my intentions were and asked them to escort me. It does credit to both men that they agreed to aid me, although to be honest I would have expected no less from any soldier. One of our own was murdered in their bed at Skyhold and it has become personal for every member of the Inquisition. Nevertheless it was very honourable of both of them to agree to such a request without hesitation.’

‘Michel and Athalwolf know that you intend to murder Sierra?’ I asked, more than a little gobsmacked ‘You all are setting out with that goal in mind? Yes?’

The Commander pursed his lips, knowing this was not exactly the case. ‘They know I intend to talk to a reputed malificar and have agreed to come to maintain a safe environment.’ replied Cullen, adding with a shrug ‘Where it goes from there is beyond my predictions.’

Scoffing, I threw my companion an incredulous look.

Cullen shook his head ‘You do not know Sierra. Trust me, if you did you would not be so defensive. Mark my word after all these years Daggers is still the same. Her fate is sealed, and there is no other choice before me’

Stretching my arms in an exhausted yawn, I climbed onto the wooden bed. ‘If you must do this then you must.’ I replied tiredly, crawling under the cold sheets ‘Come we should get some sleep.’

Sheathing his sword, the Commander joined me in our creaking small bed. The linen was scratchy and uncomfortable, and the chicken feathers from the pillows pricked into my cheek like little needles. As strange as it sounded, I missed Skyhold.

‘Sleep well my love.’ murmured Cullen, placing a soft kiss on my cheek as he wrapped his arms around me. Before too long I could hear his heavy breathing, a slight twitch in his arm and leg as he drifted off to sleep.

Eyes lulling shut also, a mirage of madness flashed before me. Smiling faces of men and women raising flagons of ale and toasting to the Inquisition and Corypheus, as the magister and I sat side by side. Combing Dryn’s black hair with a white whale bone comb, only to take a break to wrap my arms around Michel in The Hanged Man. Seeing Cullen dressed in a black mage robe lecturing the apprentices about the danger of the templars. Athalwolf sat at the back taking notes, and beside him was a smirking Sierra….

Jolting up in our bed, the sleeping Commander was oblivious as I woke beside him. A cold sweat on my brow, I shakily whispered the terrifying name that was no dream. It was real and there was no ignoring it.

‘Daggers.’


	50. You Reap What You Sow

No sleep awaited me for the rest of that night. The facts before me felt surreal. Unimaginably shocking. I wanted to close my eyes, open them and vaguely remember the thoughts that refused to leave me now. To easily brush them off as the nonsensical musings of slumber where facts do not exist and fantasises play out all wrong. I was not so fortunate. Indeed I remained awake, eyes wide open in the dark….and yet I saw nothing.

_Nothing_.

Muttering unintelligible words under my breath I clamoured out of bed, the tired groan of the wooden floorboards not disturbing the heavy soft breathing of the templar beside me. Dressing myself hastily, I made my way to the battlements overlooking the eastern side of the desert where the lit beacons of Adamant Fortress burned brightly in a dark horizon. Leaning against a weathered parapet I listened to the soft swish and rustle of the thick shade cloths overhead that hung from the fortress to provide shelter from the harsh weather. Dire were the days spent under a desert sun, yet at night a cruel chill came across the plains and reminded me of the old saying;

_Stray not in the place of hidden beauty and grim._

_To behold treasures of the gods, of riches no mortal should witness._

_Of brilliant gold and crystals in the sky. An ocean of silence. An unquenchable thirst._

_The limitlessness of the sands will consume all in the end._

Moments replayed in my mind until I was scraping the flesh from my knuckles as they ground into the rough stone of the battlements. Recalling Cullen telling me about the malificar Jowan aiding Josephine in possessing Michel de Chevin with the demon Imshael. Of Athalwolf and Mabel Guildersleeve arriving at Skyhold at the exact moment we desperately needed an ambasador. When Athalwolf revealed Mabel’s true identity to the council, and his subsequent willingness to cooperate in the death of his sister by concealing the true nature of her demise from his family. Of Josephine’s claims to Cullen and Leliana that Athalwolf was Jowan.

They had refused to believe her. We all had. My blood slowly chilled as I recalled the very moment Athalwolf had ran into the great hall at Adamant Fortress and beheld Sierra in surprise, referring to her as Daggers.

Cullen had referred to Sierra using the very same name. There was no mistaking that, and surely there was no coincidence? Drawing my breath sharply I suddenly reminded myself that Athalwolf had been the last person alive to be seen with Leliana. And now she was dead.

Drawing my hands through my hair, I screamed at the top of my lungs. The sound echoed into the emptiness before me as I cursed the man that I had grown to be so fond of. Ragged strands of brown hair came away from my furious fingers as I beheld their slight tremor before me.

How could I tell anyone of what I knew?

The clatter of steel armour sounded and a few guards came rushing across the ramparts towards me. With a smile I put up my arms to placate their concerned faces.

‘I’m sorry, everything is fine.’ I called out ‘I thought I saw a…large bronto. That is all.’

Unconvincingly, I vaguely pointed out over the battlements to a dark and isolated area of rock and sand. After several moments of examining the deserted spot, the guards reassured me there was nothing down there and quickly departed, leaving me to my thoughts once more.

A mixture of betrayal and grief overwhelmed me. Athalwolf had been like a brother to me, and had grown to be a close friend. He had done so much good for the Inquisition through his potions and spells aiding the release of the templars from the red lyrium. In securing Riddlehamhope Castle for the mages in The Heartlands. He had been a popular and caring mentor to the mages at Skyhold. A good role model and dedicated teacher. Could such a man really be the repugnant malificar Jowan? If he was we would stand to lose so much more, and I could not bear to think what that would mean for the Inquisition.

Fast steps could be heard approaching and I caught sight of Michel approaching, dressed in his full Inquisition plate armour. Looking around the battlements, he spotted me sitting on the ground and rushed over.

‘Is everything all right Ophelia?’ asked Michel fearfully, drawing up to me ‘We are already saddling the horses in the courtyard preparing to leave. Some of the guards mentioned you were upset. Did something happen?’

Rubbing my red eyes wearily, I muttered ‘I told them it was nothing.’

Even if I wanted to I could not tell Michel my suspicions. I could not tell Cullen. Not now when we were all about to ride into potential danger. And yet if Athalwolf was Jowan, I knew he would be fighting on Sierra’s side. We were in trouble and yet I did not know whether my friend was indeed my enemy. What was worse was I had no time to figure it out.

Was it possible that all of this was in my imagination?

Standing up, I brushed the dirt off my dragon scale tunic ‘It’s fine Michel, let us move out.’

I began to walk by the man, throwing my eyes away from his sight. The ex-chevalier clasped my upper arm gently, pulling me stop.

‘I know you Ophelia, something is wrong here.’ he implored ‘Please you can tell me.’

‘Everything is fine Michel.’ I remarked angrily, ripping my arm away. Michel took a step back, somewhat surprised at the response. Eyes filled with fury, I took a step forward to the man ‘You going out and fucking every woman in Skyhold is fine. You ignoring me for the entire trip, like I do not exist is fine. You. Athalwolf. Everyone is fucking fine!’

The ex-chevalier appeared remorseful, if not a little ashamed ‘You have been hurt by my dishonourable actions and I apologise. For what it is worth, I am not fine with my behaviour.’. Frowning, the words suddenly registered in the knights mind ‘Athalwolf? What has he done?’

‘No.’ I snapped, growing more furious by the moment ‘You don’t get to ignore me and then play the role of confidant. It is time to ride out.’

‘I said I would protect you with my body and I meant it.’ replied Michel fervently, his fingers grasping into my arms as he pulled me closer. Drawing his hands to my face, I could see him struggling not to draw my lips to his. ‘You hurt me Ophelia.’ he whispered passionately ‘Do you not see why I ignore you? I have to witness Cullen with you every day and I hate it. Seeing him touch you the way I want to. Entwining his fingers through yours. The way he places his hands on you, or draws his lips to your cheek. Those lips and those hands should be mine.’

Not pulling away, I let Michel hold me close. ‘Do you think I enjoy hearing the Iron Bull and his Chargers recount how you sleep with every woman at The Herald’s Rest?’ I retorted ‘Good for you, you made a remarkable point to me that you can wrap everyone around your finger.’

Michel looked hurt as he drew me in with his distressed blue eyes ‘I have only lay with one other woman, and she has never been in my heart or my thoughts. Can you say the same thing about Cullen?’

Below I could hear the sound of horses neighing loudly between the sound of orders and directions being called out by the Commander. My heart dropped as I spotted Athalwolf already mounted on a white steed, and beside him was Cullen. A few guards had ascended the steps towards Michel and I, with orders that we were required to set out immediately with the Commander.

‘We can’t speak about this now.’ I replied darkly ‘The party is about to leave, we should go.’

####

Pounding hooves against the sand, I was unable to focus on what lay ahead us. I needed a clear head and that was a frame of mind that was impossible to entertain. To one side of me rode a vengeful templar that I desperately needed to talk to but could not. To the other side of me rode a concerned ex-chevalier who knew I was upset, casting his blue eyes to me whenever I dared throw them to him. And behind me was my dear friend who was perhaps a dear enemy, a malificar disguised as another person and someone that none of us could trust.

Bypassing a herd of gurns and hyenas, we made our way swiftly across the cold sand of the desert, already warming as the first rays of light rose to greet us. Nathaniel Howe had sent word to Cullen that we were to meet him at the Lost Spring Canyon at daybreak, a secluded part of the Western Approach where a clear water river ran beside the red rock face of a canyon.

The light spilling across the sand was concealed by the looming sandstone on either side of us and we rode precariously, our eyes shifting up to the cliff face and the many crevices in the rock. Bandits were numerous in these parts, and this was a perfect place for an ambush. However the danger of the area, filled with wild beasts and poisonous plants, also made it a location where no sensible person would roam. We may have been safe from the Grey Wardens, but not from the other beasties, brigands and foragers that plagued the land.

A warm breeze blew around us as the soft rustle of the branches of deathroot trees and the low chirp of crickets sounded around us. Green tufts of river grass and reed grew lush and healthy beside the crystal blue water of the spring, an oasis in an otherwise barren terrain.

By a broken and burnt merchant’s wagon, we spotted a man with long dark hair and pale white skin wearing the armour of the Grey Wardens, and beside him with her hands tied secured to the ruin was a woman with red hair. A woman I recognised to be Sierra Amell. Her mouth was bound, but her spirit had not been dampened as her eyes looked hatefully towards us.

Upon seeing the red haired Grey Warden, Cullen kicked his feet hard in his stirrups and rode ahead as we followed on. Jumping out of the saddle his boots crunched hard against the crumbled rock face and sand beneath his feet and he approached to clasp strong hands with the black haired man.

‘Nathaniel, thank you for your help.’ murmured Cullen, darting his eyes towards the abductee ‘I hope there were no problems in bringing her here?’

Nathaniel grasped the Commander’s arm respectfully ‘No trouble in the slightest, apart from the occasional outburst of foul mouth. I had to silence her.’

Cullen drew his poignant sharply from its sheath, walking over to Sierra who watched him with wide eyes. Crouching down before her, Cullen held the blade at her throat.

‘Are you going to cause problems if I cut your mouth binding?’ he asked sternly.

Shaking her head between heavy breaths, Cullen nodded silently. Drawing the blade to her cheek, he eased the blade between her flesh and the material and cut it away. The mage spat out the cloth and coughed. Raising her green eyes to the man before, she shook her head with a bitter chuckle.

‘I often thought about what it would be like if I ever saw you again.’ observed Sierra dryly ‘It’s good to see you again Cullen.’

Cullen raised to his feet and stood over her, looking down with a look of disapproval ‘Do you know why I am here Sierra?’

‘No.’ replied Sierra shortly, casting her eyes angrily up to the man ‘All I know is that I have been kidnapped by someone that I trusted.’. Turning towards to the Grey Warden, she added bitterly ‘Nathaniel you fucking traitor.’

‘You murdered my father and left my family name to ruin and disgrace.’ replied Nathaniel darkly ‘My father may have wronged others, but the family name Howe and those of it did not. You robbed me of the future that I was to have. My identity. My purpose. Everything. I have more loyalty to that shrub over there than I do to you Sierra.’

‘I showed you mercy by ordering your execution.’ scoffed Sierra ‘It was the Grey Wardens that sentenced you to a life of misery, as they did to me. Tell me Nathaniel, do you really think surviving the Joining was luck on your behalf? You think I am the evil one here, but I was only ever a puppet in the Order. Hero of Ferelden? Hah! A lot of good that did me. You risk your life over and over for these bastards and they keep on sending you back into the firing line. And for what? So the rest of the ingrates of Thedas can judge you as you count down the hours until the darkspawn taint finally consumes you.’. The woman spat at the men’s feet. ‘And now you serve another soulless cause as Leliana’s little informer. Out of the frying pan and into the fire my friend.’

‘I have a bow and a blade in my hand, and a traitor by my side. I was under no illusions as to where I was, Sierra.’ muttered Nathaniel ‘My allegiance to the Left Hand of the Divine was more pious a cause than anything I have beheld under your command in the last decade.’

‘Former Left Hand.’ snickered Sierra ‘Former Spymaster to the Inquisition.’

‘Why did you kill Leliana?’ asked Cullen gravely ‘If indeed there is an ounce of humanity left in that charred soul of yours you will give me this much.’

Sierra laughed at the templar before her, shaking her head at the question ‘I have no idea what you are talking about Commander Cullen. If you intend to execute me then know that you are committing murder and nothing else. I am innocent.’

The horses stirred restlessly and Michel grabbed my rein, subtly pulling my horse close to his as the trio before us continued to talk amongst themselves.

‘Keep your eyes to the ground and pretend we are calmly talking.’ murmured Michel ‘In the crevice to your sharp east, there are three archers. Behind the trees ahead of us are three figures, keeping in the shadows.’

Fearfully I kept my eyes fixated on a rock before me. ‘What do we do?’ I asked, my heart pounding as I realised we were about to be shot at like fish in a barrel.

‘If you follow the river ahead, it leads to a small trail that runs alongside the cliff face.’ whispered Michel ‘Ride hard and follow the path that winds around the cliff, do not descend into the canyon below. There are too many dangers lurking down there. Wait until my signal and then ride hard Ophelia.’

‘I cannot let you all stay here, you’ll die.’ I protested in a hiss ‘I would never abandon you all, I will stay and fight.’

Michel drew his hand to pat my horse’s mane, unable to look at me as he looked upon Cullen, Sierra and Nathaniel conversing and tried to appear calm.

‘Ma’arlath if you die, we all die.’ murmured Michel ‘If you die, I will die. Please emma lath, you must do what I say.’

Turning my eyes to the party I noticed Cullen had now drawn his blade, the sharp point weighing lightly on the tip of his finger as he crouched before the red haired woman.

‘Sierra you know what I have to do.’ observed Cullen ‘If you confess I will give you a clean death of your choosing. If not, I will run you through the stomach here and now and let you bleed out until the wyverns find you. It will be a painful and prolonged end to your life, that much I can promise.’

Casting her green eyes to the Commander, she held his gaze. ‘Is that what you would do to the woman you once loved?’ she whispered ‘Is it really that easy to end my life after all that we shared? Cullen you are the only man that I have truly loved.’

Cullen chuckled bitterly as his amber eyes looked upon her, his blade twirling slowly in his grip ‘It never ceases to amaze me at how manipulative some people are right until their very last breath. By all means use all the emotive words you can muster to your cause, but do so in the knowledge that I will not sway from my goal. I do not share the same false affections. You murdered Leliana and I will see that she has her revenge.’

‘It was a matter personal to Leliana and I.’ replied Sierra angrily ‘Cullen you were not there and you do not know who this woman truly was. She was a zealous monster and a danger to us all, ramming her beliefs down our throat while we tried to deal with the Blight. I knew we were all doomed the moment she had ascended the ranks of the Chantry to Left Hand of the Divine. A madwoman with that power under her was the last thing Thedas needed. I did you all a favour for no one would have performed the act that needed to be done.’

‘And so your final words have been spoken.’ acknowledged Cullen ‘Prepare yourself now.’

Sierra cast her eyes desperately around the canyons before turning fearfully to Athalwolf ‘Are you going to stand by and watch this unfold? Or have your loyalties changed like Nate’s here?’

With frowns and surprised looks, we all turned our attention to Athalwolf. His face was drawn long and stern, deathly white and seething all at the same time. 

‘I never pledged loyalty to you.’ replied Athalwolf sternly, pull his reins tight as his horse neighed in distress.

‘You have a funny way of showing it.’ sneered Sierra.

‘What is she talking about?’ demanded Cullen, turning to the Orlesian mage.

‘You have a funny way of showing gratitude.’ retorted Athalwolf, looking disdainfully at Sierra.

With a taunting smile, Sierra added ‘Oh I thuoght you did not want everyone to know who alerted me to this pathetic attack? Thank you for that, I am most thankful.’

Casting his eyes furiously to the woman, Athalwolf replied in a deathly whisper ‘I told you that so you could run. Not arrange to attack the Inquisition.’

‘What is going on here?!’ shouted Cullen abruptly, casting a heated look to the mage ‘You will explain yourself Athalwolf lest you meet an untimely end today as well.’

‘Cullen.’ began Michel uneasily, casting his eyes to the nearby trees ‘I think we-‘

‘Not now Michel.’ interjected Cullen, drawing over to Athalwolf who looked more than a little fearful ‘I want to know why Sierra expected Athalwolf’s loyalty? I want to know why Athalwolf warned Sierra of this meeting.’

‘Cullen we have company.’ cried out Michel, drawing his sword.

To our horror we watched on as six men dressed in black armour quickly ascended upon the party, three with their swords in hand and three with arrows drawn at the ready.

‘Cullen behind you!’ Michel and I cried out as one of the men rushed at the Commander.

Nathaniel spurred forward towards the man, chipping at his shoulder blade with his bow as Cullen swung round and drew his long sword. Meanwhile Michel was clashing steel with another warrior, the ring of their blades echoing loudly as they savagely swung to place lethal blows upon each other. Arrows fired and narrowly missed the men as they continued to fight.

Murmuring under his breath, I could see Athalwolf was casting a spell and I too began to draw my own words of power to strike at him. The man’s spell was suddenly released, and I watched on as his Winter’s Grasp engulfed all three of the unknown archers, freezing them solid in their tracks.

Suddenly a sharp blow landed at the back of my head and I was knocked off my horse, a searing pain landing in my forearm and knee as I hit the ground hard. Looking about in a daze I could see Cullen casting a templar shield against Sierra, who had begun to weave magic towards him. Her ropes had been cut by one of her companions and she was now crafting a horrific red glow from her hands. The deadly scene played out in slow motion as I desperately tried to gather my footing.

Screaming like a wild berserker one of Sierra’s men stood over me, his leering rotted tooth smile speaking louder than words as he rose his axe above his head. I gained my footing only to feel a blinding heat in my forehead as his boot met my face. Screaming I drew my hands to the warm trickle of blood as I was flung backwards, only to feel the heavy foot of the man pin me down on my chest to secure me on the ground. Struggle as I tried, it was no match to the weight of the warrior, whose foulness I beheld looking down on me. Ready to take that lethal swing, the world grew still and quiet as I fixated on the blade about to strike. This was the final moment of my life, and all I could do was watch in macabre fascination at what was about to unfold. There was no time to cast magic, or escape the axe that began to fall. Just to farewell the final moments of a life that I dearly did not want to part from….

The axe swung forward and suddenly a roaring ex-chevalier dived across between me and the blade, the warrior’s weapon being knocked as Michel diverted the blow. The pair fell to the ground and wrestled, before Michel unsheathed a parrying dagger and buried it deep into the berserker gullet, stabbing the man over and over again in a shower of blood and guts. Finally the man fell backwards and collapsed into a bloody heap and moments later, to my horror, Michel stumbled back also with an axe buried in the right side of his abdomen. He wrenched the blade from his body before collapsing on the ground.

‘Michel!!!!!’ I cried out.

Crawling over to the man through the sludgy red sand soaked in blood, I fell over his body now lying heavy on the ground. His eyes were closed and I drew my hands to his head.

‘Michel wake up.’ I called out desperately, my eyes fearfully darting to the bloody slaughter occurring around me before returning to my injured friend.

The ex-chevalier revealed blurred eyes that were bloodshot, lulling open to smile at me softly ‘There is nothing you can do ma vhenan. I do not feel my body, you must go.’

‘No.’ I replied angrily, clutching Michel’s hand desperately in my hand ‘Hold on, we will get through this and get you back to the keep.’

‘Vir samahl la numin. We laugh and we cry, that is the way of the world.’ he murmured weakly ‘Ophelia…. run ….please just run…’. Closing his eyes the ex-chevalier whispered ‘Elgara vallas, da’len….ar lath ma.’

The knight fell into unconsciousness as tears welled in my eyes ‘I love you too Michel.’

Running my hands under his shoulder I was about to scoop the ex-chevalier into my arms when I felt a pair of rough hands grab me from behind.

‘Gotcha filthy Inquisita bitch.’ hissed a man, wrenching me off the ground in one vicious pull.

Crying out, I was helpless against the strength of the assailant as he pulled me away. Knowing I was moments away from being stuck by his blade, I closed my eyes and put all my focus into one last spell. Murmuring the words hastily the man began to splutter and cough, keeling backwards as he gasped for air as I swiftly unsheathed a dagger from my leg and rammed it into his throat. That sickening feel of the blade piercing his jugular, the crunch of his larynx being crushed. In choking spasms he reached for his neck as the blood poured freely and I recoiled in horror, knowing each time I beheld death the more gruesome it felt.

Chaos unfolded before my eyes, a pile of bodies surrounding. I recognised the limp figure beside a bush being that of Nathaniel, his black hair matted with blood. Again my stomach sank as my ears alerted me to the yells of a man I knew all too well. Turning around I could see Cullen, and it was a sight equally horrific to behold.

Sierra had secured Cullen against the red sandstone cliff side with some form of magic I had never beheld. Claws emerged from the red smoke, and the faces of skeletons revealed their wicked grins before being immersed in the plumes. The cloud of foulness surrounded Cullen, holding him secure as she summoned a pack of shades before her.

‘Stop this Sierra.’ roared Cullen, watching the shades now approach.

‘You were about to kill me you filthy templar shit.’ spat Sierra ‘Do you think I will show you any mercy when you were prepared to give none?’

‘Sierra he has nothing to do with this.’ yelled out Athalwolf, casting a spray of blue flame towards an archer drawing an arrow. The woman screamed and fell to the ground as the flames consumed her. ‘Please my friend.’ he implored as he approached the Grey Warden tentatively ‘Do not strike at the ones who are aiding our plight.’

‘Our plight? Our plight!? Since when has Cullen ever sympathised with the mages?’ remarked a disgusted Sierra.

‘He is Knight-Commander of the templar Order,’ appealed Athalwolf firmly ‘yet he has had no qualm with our creation of a Mage Order. He was a raised as a templar and taught to hate mages, yet he loved a mage…you Sierra, when we were in living in Kinloch Hold. Perhaps Cullen holds more compassion to our cause than we gave him credit.’

Sierra held her hand steady, waiting to strike with her next assault of magic. ‘Do not spit lies at me. I know your thoughts would never betray Lily to see Cullen in that light. He will destroy every mage when the time suits and you know it.’ scathed the woman ‘You will be thanking me when I ensure he never causes a problem for mages ever again. Something you apparently did not have the gall to do.’

‘Curse you!’ yelled Cullen, straining against the crimson cloud pinning him against the rock ‘I will see you pay for this Sierra!’

Sierra’s magic was too powerful and the Commander could not move as he pulled against the red smoke with all his might, a mighty roar sounding as he used all that his stamina could muster.

The shades swiped at the Commander, inches away from consuming him as he looked deathly into the eyes of Sierra.

Screaming to the skies, I cast an energy barrage towards Sierra, a collection of energy blasts fired towards her but it made not a jot of difference. The electricity bounced off the purple orb that surrounded her like water off a duck’s back. Whatever the mage had cast, it was blood magic, and it was nothing I could compete with. Yet there was one man who could…

‘Jowan!’ I cried out, and Athalwolf turned to me. His black eyes were sad and remorseful, yet he looked at me the same way my companion always did. With a closeness that friends shared. ‘Jowan please you are still my friend. Please help Cullen, please.’

Sierra laughed in amusement ‘Oh Cullen could you have found a more miserable sub-par mage if you tried? Here you are about to be ripped apart and she says please to the nice little malificar. Jowan do us all a favour and let Cullen see his dearest become an abomination. Have your vengeance on Lily by letting Cullen see his true love be tortured and killed. You always were the clever cat that liked to play with his mice, now is your time to shine.’

‘You fucking evil wench.’ roared Cullen furiously, his face covered with hate ‘I will kill you! I WILL KILL YOU!!!’’

Athalwolf looked consumed with grief, his face sombre and morose. ‘I am sorry my friend.’ he remarked darkly.

‘Please Jowan, please save him-’ I begged, catching my breath suddenly as a shade began to swipe at Cullen’s defenceless body. The templar roared out as the claws began to tear at his armour as if it were soft butter. Stumbling forward, I began to run towards the templar.

Raising his fist with a loud chant under his breath, Athalwolf fell to the ground and pounded the earth with his hand. The skies rumbled loud, vibrating our very bones as a mighty pulsation circled out from his fist and knocked every person off their feet, including Sierra and the shades.

Sierra screamed in frustration as the shades dispersed and fled. Jowan waved his hand and released Cullen from the hold, the red smoke evaporating as did her shield.

‘You are strong Sierra, but you are no match for me. You will not hurt any of them.’ roared Jowan, raising his hand to Sierra as jets of electricity escaped.

The red haired mage brought her hand up to form a purple shield made of light, narrowly reflecting the arcane assault. Clenching her other first, it burst into flames as she hurled it towards Cullen, a rolling ball of flame that was deflected by Jowan as he cast a spell to blow the flames out before they reached the man.

In the corner of my eye I noticed one of the bodies on the ground stirring, a woman picking herself up and retrieving her bow. Drawing my hands out, I cast a wall if ice on the final survivor of Sierra’s assassins, and she was frozen instantly. Casting a bolt of electricity from my staff, the ice shattered into a thousand pieces along with the body of the archer.

Drawing her bow suddenly, Sierra aimed an arrow at Cullen and held it steady.

‘You are outnumbered Sierra.’ warned Cullen, slowly raising his arms ‘Just leave now and we will let you be.’

‘I only need one shot Cullen and I do not intend to miss.’ murmured Sierra, the groan of the string stretching tight as she prepared to release the arrow.

Flying through the air, an arrow suddenly planted heavy into Sierra’s thigh. The Grey Warden screamed out in pain as her arrow released to the side and landed hard into the trunk of a deathroot tree.

We all turned in shock to see a woman with fiery ginger hair standing on the path, dressed in the sacred white armour of the Chantry. Her green eyes were vibrant and her pale skin luminous, her armour radiating an energy about her that had nothing to do with the scorching sun from above.

‘Your time is over, Sierra Amell.’ called out Leliana calmly ‘I am here to send you to the abyss.’

Incapable of comprehending what was happening before us we all froze in shock, beholding what we knew must be a ghost or an apparition of our former spymaster. Cullen cast his deep amber eyes to the figure, a look of disbelief on his face similar to one who wanders thirsty in the desert only to spot water on the horizon ahead.

‘Leliana….’ murmured Cullen as he stumbled forwards, dropping his blade to the ground.

Falling back to the ex-chevalier, I noticed Michel was bleed profusely and pressed my hand firmly into his wound. His eyes were shut and mine covered in crimson, smeared across my face as I wiped back the tears.

‘I would have words with the one that murdered me,’ called out Leliana looking directly at Athalwolf, before turning her sight onto Sierra ‘and to the one that forced his hand.’

The Commander pressed his hands together and chanted something under his breath. It was a calling of the Templar, and his body radiated with a blue glow as the words left his lips. I gasped painfully, feeling my energy drained. Sierra and Athalwolf also keeled over with a cry.

Our mana had been drained.

‘No.’ cried out Sierra fearfully, limping away. She turned to a nearby horse and mounted it unsteadily.

Edging away, Athalwolf also climbed hastily onto his horse.

‘Ride on, we will reunite very soon.’ commanded Leliana as she watched the mages escape down the path in a furious gallop. The spymaster turned, her green eyes looking affectionately at the Commander.

Cullen stood still in his tracks, looking at the woman in disbelief.

‘Is it really you?’ he murmured.

Throwing a warm smile to Cullen, Leliana replied ‘And the faithful beheld what they knew was to come, and the faithless were given a sign to believe. And so it was.’

Even from where I stood, I could see tears in the templar’s eyes as he watched Leliana gallop off after the mages. However he did not linger in that moment for long, and suddenly turned to look for me. His amber eyes met mine and relief covered his face. Racing towards Michel and I, Cullen fell beside the ex-chevalier. Ripping the cloth off the barbarian corpse beside us, the Commander wrapped the material over and around the hip of the ex-chevalier, tying it tight to prevent further blood loss.

‘Are you hurt?’ Cullen asked fearfully, looking over me as he placed a worried hand on mine.

‘No I’m fine.’ I replied shakily ‘Cullen…I thought you-‘

The man shook his head, drawing up to kiss me. His lips pressed hard and I clung on to him as if he would disappear at any moment. Pulling away, it was apparent the shock was starting to set in. ‘We are going to get through this.’ he replied strongly, keeping the pressure on Michel’s wound.

‘Michel has been out for a while now’. I added fearfully.

The sound of horns sounded, and we could see the soldiers of the Inquisition approaching in the distance.

‘Thank the Maker.’ remarked Cullen. The Commander waved his hand to the incoming party. ‘I need to go after Sierra and Jowan.’ informed Cullen darkly, looking over to the guards approaching. ‘Soldiers over here!’ he roared ‘Our second in Commander Michel de Chevin is gravely injured. Take him back to the Griffon Wing Keep, and the Inquisitor. You will heal him, he is not to die.’

The soldiers, brushing me aside swiftly, aided the injured Orlesian onto a horse with an Inquisition soldier. The soldier cradled the Orlesian and instantly turned and rode off as I watched on helplessly.

‘Go back to the Griffon Wing Keep Ophelia.’ ordered Cullen, running over to Nathaniel’s body. Calling over some soldiers, the Commander ordered them to aid the Grey Warden back at the keep and to not divulge his presence to anyone in the Inquisition or Grey Wardens.

‘I want to come with you.’ I replied quickly as Cullen approached me again ‘I’m not hurt, I can ride.’

‘No.’ barked Cullen as he mounted his black steed ‘This journey I make alone. Soldiers I command you to take the Inquisitor back to the Griffon Wing Keep and make sure she does not leave.’

‘Cullen!’ I protested, but the man had already ridden off leaving me alone amongst a pile of bloody corpses.

####

Tracking a trail of fresh horse prints was no hard task, especially ones that revealed deep in the red sand. Cullen rode hard and with purpose, at times believing he saw shimmering figures on the horizon only to lose sight of them each time. As midday approached the Commander again caught a small glimpse of what his heart had secretly hoped had not been a dream. Some tempestuous ginger haired vision that teased him and left him aching with pain, knowing she was still dead. Of course she was dead.

Blinking his weary dry eyes over the horizon, the figure was once again gone.

Across the Western Approach the Commander continued, heavy hooves in the sand that slowly transformed into firm trots amongst tough tufts of grass. By afternoon he had crossed into The Heartlands, continuing to track the fresh tracks of three horses before him.

Fatigued and exhausted, Cullen implored himself forwards…if only to catch sight of the ginger haired woman on the horizon once more.

####

Face’s scratched by branch and twig, Sierra and Jowan snaked their horses through the heavy thicket of the boggy marshland. At every snap of a twig and rustle of a bush they fearfully cast their eyes behind them, thousands of times if not more, always expecting someone to appear.

‘Sierra-‘

‘Shhhh.’ chastised the woman, casting him a deathly glare ‘She’ll hear us.’

‘Oh for crying out loud, I have seen no one since we passed Val Foret.’ snapped Jowan irritably. Clenching his fist, he murmured something under his breath before sighing in frustration. ‘What in the dickens did Cullen cast? My mana has not returned in the slightest. I could not even cast a spell barrier if my life depended on it.’

‘Who cares, the fact is we can’t use magic.’ replied Sierra darkly ‘You sided with the wrong people as always.’

‘Oh yes because you revealed to me how loyal you are.’ replied the mage in disgust ‘Why are you even riding with me? Be gone and do not think you can leech off me.’

‘Strength in numbers.’ muttered Sierra ‘That is the only reason I am here.’

Jowan scoffed ‘The moment you have any magical strength I am guessing you expect to come with me to The Nephilim Realm. You would be mistaken. I would see you dead before I help you again.’

‘Well until we get our magic back…strength in numbers.’ observed Sierra dangerously.

Snorting in discomfort and a thick froth gathering at the mouth, Jowan’s horse was exhausted. The mage sighed as he patted the beast affectionately before dropping down into the swampy marshlands. His boots sunk calf deep into the thick and pungent sludge, releasing a foul odour into the air.

‘What are you doing?’ hissed Sierra, her eyes darting behind them.

‘My horse will die of exhaustion if I continue riding him.’ snapped Jowan ‘I would not expect you to understand compassion, but try to hold that tongue of yours.’. Turning to the beast, he affectionately stroked the white nose of the horse ‘Go my friend. Seek safer pastures, and thank you for everything.’

‘Pathetic.’ muttered the woman.

Jowan shrugged ‘As long as my title does not secure your approval I am doing something right.’

The black haired mage walked on in silence, with Sierra riding her exhausted horse a little further ahead in a sluggish trot until the animal stood still in its tracks, refusing to budge. Sierra kicked her heels into the belly of the beast, but her wounded leg could not muster enough strength except to cause her more pain.

‘Move!’ she ordered heatedly.

The horse neighed angrily, yanking its head in defiance and began to settle down on a hard embankment of wood and mud.

Cursing loudly, Sierra toppled off the horse as Jowan laughed at his companion.

‘Not even the horses listen to you these days.’ observed Jowan pleasantly ‘At least there is some amusement in this bog’

The hours progressed as the pair treaded their way painfully through the sludge, continuing with little territory covered as Sierra grew slower and slower in pace. Nightfall had arrived and they settled down for a few hours on the dirty root of a fig tree before setting off again under the light of the full moon. Shivering and cold the pair pressed on and the first rays of sun greeted them as they finally approached the western-tip of the Waking Sea.

The tide gently splashed against the sandy bank of weeds, the sea water tinged red as the sands from the bottom of the Waking Sea appeared cloudy and disturbed. Jowan sighed in relief as he cast his black eyes across the body of water. Soon he would be on-board a merchant vessel and closer to his freedom once more.

Thud!

Piercing through the air, an arrow shot past them and landed into a nearby whittle tree. Jowan and Sierra spun around to see Leliana standing behind them with a bow in her hands and a smirk on her face.

‘Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame. Andraste, guide me. Maker, watch over me.’ she called out composedly.

Crying out in fright, Sierra wonkily drew her bow as Jowan produced a blade of his own.

‘You do not need weapons, your magic is returned.’ acknowledged Leliana, waiting as the pair of mages startled in surprise. The mana had returned instantly as Leliana had mentioned it.

‘What trick is this?’ yelled Jowan angrily ‘You wish us to cast magic? I refuse to play into your hand, I can sense a trick when a trickster is near.’

Sierra scoffed at the mage’s reply ‘Then you’re as dead as she is.’. Raising her palm, Sierra casting a Flame Mine towards Leliana.

The spymaster raised her hand swiftly, the glyph suddenly stopping mid-tracl and pulsated before Leliana. Turning her gaze at Jowan, she pushed the air towards him and the fire glyph primed around the dark haired mage.

‘No.’ cried out Jowan, unable to move from the spot as the fires arose ‘Help me Sierra, I cannot move. Help me….arhhgghhhh!!!!’

Red hot molten light erupted and burst into life. It danced and surrounded the man until nothing but fire could be seen and the wails of a burning body could be softly heard over the loud roar of flame.

Leliana bowed her head in reverence, chanting under her breath as the cries of Athalwolf slowly diminished into silence. The foul stench of burning flesh and smoke lay thick in the air. A putrid reminder that vengeance was never sweet.

Sierra gasped in horror, her hands covering her mouth as she beheld the spell engulf her friend. Turning her heel, she limped away towards the marshlands in a desperate attempt to flee from the spymaster. Being scratched by twig and branch, the mage pressed on. After several minutes falling deep into the thicket, she turned to fearfully see if Leliana was following. There was no sight of the woman, and Sierra turned back to the path ahead.

‘Umph.’

Sierra groaned as she felt the sharp blade of a long sword run through her gullet. Surprised eyes drawn to her assailant, she met the hardened amber gaze of Cullen standing in front of her before she sank to her knees.

‘You reap what you sow.’ mutterd Cullen darkly, withdrawing the blade from the woman as she grimaced in pain.

Blood came out of Sierra’s mouth and she spat it towards the Commander, like venom from a snake. ‘Then your time will come soon, and when it does I hope you die miserably.’ wheezed the mage ‘I curse you Cullen Stanton Rutherford. As the Tenebris Sunt are my witness, I curse you to live out your days in pain and misery. To see all that you love wither and die around you, as cursed as you are…and they will blame you and curse your name in turn. Curse you. Curse….you…’

Sierra slumped over onto the muddy ground, death coming to take her at the floor of a filthy abandoned bog. The Hero of Ferelden now nothing more than a legend, as in life and now…in death.


	51. The Left and the Right

A cold steel blade coated in blood smeared against the warn ram leather gauntlet of the deceased, and the more he rubbed the redder it grew. Sierra Amell was dead and yet her demise, like so many others that had met his blade, never gave him much comfort. Death could not undo the wrongs already committed, only ensure no more were performed by their hand. Sierra’s death would have to suffice, irrespective of the lack of satisfaction it brought the Commander.

Observing the mage’s lifeless face coated with flecks of mud and blood, if Cullen felt pity for the woman it would have been now. Murdered by hands that had once held her affectionately. The templar’s face was less hardened in those days, and free of the outer and inner scars that marked him now. In that brief moment of time there had only been he and Sierra, bound together by circumstance in the Ferelden Circle Tower. An apprentice mage that Cullen was instructed to watch over, and yet to his shame he could not pry his eyes away from her even if he had wanted to. A concealed touch as she passed him the corridor, a stolen kiss when none were looking. Two youths discovering there were more entertaining ways to pass the time than lessons and reciting The Chantry of Light. It was exciting and it was risky, and Sierra and Cullen enjoyed their newly kindled affection for each other. However quickly as it comes, quickly it can go. Such feelings can fade and often do, as was the case for the mage and the templar.

A trickle of a rumour soon spread, mere whispers among the templar rank that one of the mage apprentices was practicing blood magic. Rumour or not, it was enough to warrant Knight-Commander Greagoir to order the tranquilisation of Jowan. Cullen grew more than a little uneasy on learning this, knowing that Jowan’s best friend in the Circle was Sierra Amell. The pair never left each other’s side, and surely this meant Sierra could also be dabbling in the darker arts. When Sierra, Jowan and Lily were caught after destroying Jowan’s phylactery, Cullen’s suspicions were further kindled. Finally Jowan cast blood magic before them all and escaped, and it appeared more likely than not that Sierra was also a malificar. Later on Cullen would learn of Sierra’s use of blood magic from Leliana, and at that point his opinion of mages was sealed forever.

The Commander’s blade was clean once more and he pressed onwards towards the smoke in the distance. The distinct smell of burning flesh invaded his senses and the furrow of his brow revealed a disgusted recognition of the odour. It was a scent he knew well for it had filled his nostrils in the Kinloch Hold and burned into his memory forever, only to return once more in Kirkwall when fire met flesh during the rebellion.

Recognising the sound of water lapping against the shore, Cullen soon realised he had reached the coast of The Waking Sea through the marshlands of The Heartlands. However between the mist of the swamp in the cold hours of morning, and the thick smoke that lingered heavy above the sludgy ground of the marsh, there was little to behold as he edged his way towards the sound of water breaking on the shore. His black boots finally stepped onto the sand, and Cullen viewed the red waters before him and a clear outlook of the sea ahead.

His red goddess, the Waking Sea.

There was something about the endlessness of the sea that captivated the Ferelden, perhaps because he had grown up inland in Honnleath and quite far from the coast. Cullen recalled often watching the red waters of the Waking Sea from the docks in Kirkwall at sunset. Sitting on the crates and waving off offers from the scarlet women plying their trade, or sometimes accepting them, he would find solace at the end of the day watching the purple-red sunset flood over the shimmering sea. A moment of peace found in an otherwise stormy time; the templar relished that one small escape.

Her outstretched arms, my comfort. My chaotic mind, her bed.

Churlish was her nature that beauty excused in my partisan eyes.

Blue Goddess of calm tides. Red Goddess that wakes the sea.

My tempestuous lover that beguiles the pith of my adoration.

His momentary sense of tranquillity shifted to sudden alertness as the Commander heard breaking twigs and broken thicket. He was not alone. Drawing his blade and shield held firm, the Commander awaited at the ready as the smoke parted to reveal another.

Red Goddess of my passion. I met a woman in the plains.

Her eyes were wild, her hair ablaze. A siren of my senses.

Oh! Woe betide.

With a sharp inhale of disbelief, Cullen beheld the woman his eyes refused to believe was before him. Although she stood there as real as the trees and bushes surrounding him, he dared not trust what his mind warned him not to. They both hesitated, held in a moment as they stood opposite each other. A woman in brilliant white Chantry plate mail armour with a sash of white silk secured across her chest, and a man in the Commander armour of the Inquisition with a gorget of black raven feathers surrounding his neck. Amber and green eyes locked. Sandy waves and ginger straight hair blowing in the calm breeze of morning, the salt air filling their lungs.

With a grin on her lips and a beam on his, the pair ran forward to each other. Leliana gathered the Cullen into her arms as he wrapped his tightly around her waist. Her head pressed against his upper chest, her soft cheek on the crest of his breastplate as he held her affectionately. Strong hands through her ginger hair, he ran his lips to plant affectionate kissed on her head. Leliana looked up the templar and his eyes ran over every part of her face with an expression of uncertainty on his own.

‘Are you truly her?’ Cullen asked in disbelief, running his fingers across her ivory cheek.

Leliana nodded and tears fell from her green eyes as she witnessed her companion’s amber eyes well up too. Torn away from each other, they knew in that moment how much they both meant to each other. Devoted in love and friendship, and bound the years of hardship. To be ripped away from each other, and then to finally reunite once more when all hope was lost.

Her fingers trailed lightly over his battered shield and the tortured steel of his breastplate that had been shred by claws. The fire in his eyes fueled by the cold touch of her lips onto his closed eyelids. His pounding chest tried to escape its prison as her feather light mouth met his.

‘I would never leave you alone in the world. Not even death could keep us apart.’ Leliana whispered, her green eyes glistening into his ‘For there is lust of the flesh and desire of the senses, and then there is the robust mixture of devotion and friendship that unconditional love takes form and surpasses life and death. In my darkest moments your memory gave me comfort, strength and hope. At times I stumbled into the unknown with more trepidation than I could endure, and yet it mattered not for you were always there with me.’

The Commander embraced the spymaster once again, his affectionate arms holding her tight and a shiver in his voice. ‘I failed you Leliana. I swore to protect you and you were taken from me by the hands of another. You have no idea how that tortured me. I clasped your cold hand in mine back at the temple at Skyhold and prayed to the Maker that he would return you to me. I hoped but I never dare dreamed…and yet here you are.’. Drawing his hands to hold her face, Cullen beheld the spymaster with disbelief ‘How is it that you are here?’

Traumatic recollection filled her eyes as Leliana stared into the thick fog surrounding them, almost trancelike as she reflected upon the experience. ‘Endless were the moments when I departed this world,’ murmured Leliana ‘where time did not exist and the created became the creator. How constrained we are in these fickle shells, where blood and flesh dictates life and death. Such a crude and callous existence is apparent once we have departed it, and I had come to understand it with humility and grace.’. Her green eyes lifted back to her companion, full of vibrancy ‘Oh Cullen do you not see? I was not by the Maker’s side. I was apart of him. His energy and mine were intertwined and I existed in a state of euphoric bliss. The Chantry has never written any words to come close to describe such rapture. My mouth opened in unadulterated delight as I was offered but a taste by the Maker of something more and my appetite grew ravenous. He sent me back to do his work, and until that is done my hunger will never be sated.’

The Templar ran his hand fondly through her ginger hair, his heart now bursting with joy ‘I cannot believe my eyes or ears, for even I would accuse them of being wicked enough to deceive me for their own diabolical purposes. Are you real Leliana? Or are you some mischievous spirit of the marshlands that wishes to entrap me in its snare? The Orlesian tales speak of La Belle Dame Sans Merci; of a woman that lingers in the wild and tricks such men as I. For helpless am I before you, and that has always been the chink in my armour.’

Leliana giggled in amusement, her face lightening up at Cullen’s words ‘No my love I am no spirit. Of flesh and blood I stand before you. More real now than before, as my life ended I was reborn once more.’

Running his hand along her gauntleted arm, it felt as real as could be. Cullen smiled warmly, resting his forehead against hers ‘Then truly it is you?’

‘Yes it is me Cullen.’ reassured Leliana, breaking into laughter as the Commander refused to let her go.

Wrapping his hands tighter around the woman, Cullen shook his head playfully. ‘No let me hold you here for eternity.’ he jested ‘We shall return to Skyhold with you locked in my arms so you can never leave again.’. Growing serious, he added softly ‘I saw you dead Leliana. I found you murdered in your bed and prayed over your body for an entire day. You were dead. As the Maker is my witness, you were dead.’

‘The Maker returned my life on the thirteenth day of death.’ replied Leliana solemnly ‘The faithful beheld my cold and waxen body as they lay me in the catacombs of Stonegate and there they proclaimed me Divine Victoria. The faithful witnessed me rise before them.’

‘What you saw in your vision came to fruition.’ remarked Cullen, now in somewhat disbelief ‘All those years ago and you knew.’

Leliana revealed a satisfied smile on her lips. ‘Yet there were times that even my faith waned. Do not feel ashamed of doubting my visions also. Now however I return to confirm everything that I have told you has been the truth. The Maker has ensured our doubts will not cloud our way forward. He has returned my life, and now I must do the same for another.’

The spymaster turned her sight to the smouldering ashes nearby; the blackened charred remains of Athalwolf Guildersleeve. Cullen noticed her interest and his brow grew heavy.

‘He was Jowan all along and working with Sierra.’ remarked Cullen sternly ‘In the end they both met justice, although long overdue. In hindsight, I would have run them through in the Kinloch Hold and spared us all the grief of their future days.’

‘Not all those that seem impure are so.’ murmured Leliana, gently pulling away from the Commander. Light in step, she made her way to the ashes ‘Jowan saved your life in the end. He fought with you today, not against you.’

‘He was the one who murdered you,’ retorted Cullen sharply, looking unimpressed at Leliana’s observations ‘and he took the life of the real Athalwolf Guildersleeve. Surely you do not need me to remind you of all the damage Jowan has caused?’

Leliana crouched down over the remains, looking at the black corpse as she ran her fingers through the black cool ash at her feet ‘Darkness surrounded the traitor as his flesh melted away, revealing charred bone and ash. For he came from the blood of the cursed and spoke in the tongue of the Tenebris Sunt. In righteous flame he was cleansed and reborn into the flesh of the pure.’

Unable to comprehend her meaning, Cullen silently watched on as Leliana stared down at the charred remains.

‘Reborn?’ queried the Commander ‘Leliana…what are you saying?’

Leliana beckoned the templar forward. ‘Come, you will see.’ she answered ‘Let us put his remains to rest in the water.’

‘Leliana?’ queried a somewhat doubtful Cullen. Rubbing his hand against the rough sandy stubble of his jaw, the Commander looked tentative at the request.

Gently clutching Cullen’s large hand in hers, Leliana led him to the ashes ‘Trust me.’

Handfuls of ash were tossed in the choppy waters of The Waking Sea, the blacked bits sweeping out and then crashing back onto the shore. Removing her white armour on the shoreline, Leliana undressed to a loose white tunic. The Commander continued to look perplexed and she simply nodded calmly, telling him once again to trust her.

Returning to the blackened corpse, Leliana and Cullen moved the body into the water before the spymaster stepped into the waves and dragged the remains out into the deeper waters. The red sea came up to her waist as she forcefully plunged the floating remains into the crimson water beneath her.

Looking out across the sea, Leliana cried out ‘The searing pain forced him to rise from the ashes into a sea of red. As the Maker saw it, so shall it be!’

The sea bubbled furiously around the spymaster, like a cauldron of boiling liquid, as her hands remained under the water.

Cullen yelled out to Leliana, yet she did not acknowledge him as she chanted softly under her breath. Words that he could not distinguish as she repeated them over and over again. Her concentration refused to waiver as Cullen continued to call out to her. What was she doing? Suddenly his amber eyes widened and his hands drew up to his head, pulling in angst at his wavy locks as he beheld the impossible.

Leliana brought her hands up from the water as a man, naked in flesh and of pale white skin, emerged from the red waters beside her. Deeply gasping for breath, the man cried out a drawn out scream towards the heavens, flicking his wet black hair back as he beheld the sky with his own black eyes. Beads of water fell down his chest and his arms as he stood there waist deep in the water.

‘Maker’s Breath….’ whispered Cullen, fearfully watching on. He recognised the man before him, for it was a person he had known well at one time.

Jowan.

Jowan looked dazed but calm as Leliana gently whispered to him in the waters, wrapping her arms around his torso as she lead him slowly back to the shore. The mage held an almost angelic expression on his peaceful face, as if the torture and pain of former days had transformed into a higher state self. One of considerable insight and understanding that left him standing with one foot in this realm and one in a realm unseen. Indeed Jowan held a similar placidity in his expression to that of Leliana. The look of someone who had entertained the company of something greater, and yet had returned to the realm of mortals once more.

‘Maker as my witness, is this Your doing or something more sinister?’ Cullen murmured under his breath, crossing himself with the holy sign of the Chantry. The Commander watched on guardedly with a hand on his hilt, as Leliana and Jowan approached him dripping wet from the sea. ‘What is this?’ Cullen called out as the red waves crashed at their feet, grounded in the silty red sand ‘Is this the work of demons?’

‘It is the work of the Maker.’ replied Leliana sharply, leading Jowan to a dry patch of land a small distance from the shore. She helped him sit down as he shivered in his bare flesh. Returning to her armour, the spymaster retrieved a hauberk that she handed to the man before commencing to redress herself in the plate mail. Jowan pulled the shirt of mail over his head and continued to sit quietly.

‘Jowan, you little leech. You murdered Leliana.’ growled the Commander, growing more and more inflamed as he beheld the mage before him. Fist clenched tight he looked towards the spymaster and threw her a bewildered expression ‘How could the Maker ever want this?’

‘Jowan has a higher calling. He is the not the man we thought he was.’ defended Leliana, easing her breastplate over her head.

With furious long strides, Cullen walked up the spymaster and began to buckle the sides of her armour, fitting the plate mail tight. ‘No indeed he was pretending to be Athalwolf Guildersleeve.’ muttered Cullen, continuing to aid Leliana as he secured a steel pauldron on her left shoulder.

‘He is both light and dark.’ observed Leliana, throwing her gaze upon the mage still sitting quietly on the bank ‘A black and a white wolf were pulling him and Jowan fed both so that in the end he remained neutral. The light and shadow that stands between the hunter and the hunted. The Maker knows our salvation requires someone who is able to walk that line. Jowan has secured his destiny and will serve at my side’.

‘What?!’ replied Cullen incredulously ‘Maker forgive me Leliana but your judgement is somewhat lacking when it comes to this man.’

Leliana tilted her head at the Commander, silently willing him to see reason however he shook his head.

‘No.’ Cullen stated sharply before turning his unforgiving gaze back to the mage ‘What magic have you done now, Jowan? Leliana may be convinced that you are the epitome of all that is righteous in the realm, but I know better than that. I would sooner milk a male goat than trust you.’

‘It is no magic on my behalf.’ replied Jowan shakily, looking down at his arms and body in disbelief ‘My confession is, I am in as much shock as you are right now.’. The mage drew his arms around his knees, and closed his eyes as if in pain ‘I…I was consumed by a heat that melted my flesh. It was disgusting. Horrific. Then darkness fell. Yet a light returned soon after and my soul left this realm. Only now I find am myself again and back in Thedas. Whole and complete in the image of my true identity. I should not be here.’

‘Yes you should, and you will see that in time.’ replied Leliana. She finished dressing and approached both men once more ‘Neither of you have not heard The Canticles of The Immortalis Mortale. Would you like to know what holy words I have learnt from the Maker himself?’

Cullen crossed his arms, looking unconvinced that Leliana could say anything to sway his mind. Not even words from the Maker.

Leliana chuckled softly, looking fondly at the Commander ‘I may have been away for a while Cullen, but some things never change.’. Clasping his cheek affectionately, she placed a kiss on his rugged cheek before bringing his amber eyes back into hers ‘And the traitor became the Left Hand and served as her most faithful. And the lover became the Right Hand and served as her most loyal. To bring peace into the realm once more, an era of halcyon.  
As the Maker saw it, so shall it be.’

‘Andraste preserve me…’ muttered Cullen ‘Tell me you are not serious?’. Waiting for a reply, he was only met with a stern silence from the woman before him. ‘You intend for Jowan and I to become your Left and Right hand?’ remarked Cullen irately.

Jowan cast a surprised look at Leliana, as if even he were taken aback by the prophecy and her intentions. The mage lowered his black eyes once more and remained quiet, drawing his hands around his knees as he contemplated the words spoken.

‘It is the Maker’s wish, as is it mine.’ acknowledged Leliana firmly ‘Since her Most Holy died, the Chantry has waited for direction. I am its direction now. The templars will protect Val Royeaux and the Chantry, and we will stand with the templars. We will restore Thedas once again, templars and the Chantry. You, Jowan and I. Side by side.’

‘There are so many reasons why you should cast this man aside.’ scorned Cullen, looking down upon the mage furiously.

Leliana stood firm before Cullen, not succumbing to his displeasure ‘There are so many more reasons as to why I should not. Jowan has proven himself in the eyes of the Maker, and we are not to question that. Jowan is a powerful mage, and one that will serve me well…if he will agree?’

Silence fell across the marshland and Jowan lifted his head to Leliana, his dark eyes full of expression that his still face refused to reveal.

‘A spirit of immense power once told me of this prophecy many years ago.’ Jowan replied quietly ‘The exact words that you have spoken Leliana, and it told me that it was my destiny the moment we met.’

With a scoff, the Commander thrust his hand out at the mage in disgust. ‘Well there is a promising revelation Leliana. Your Left Hand was foreseen years ago by a demon.’

‘Is this true?’ replied Leliana in surprise ‘Why ever did you not say something?’

Jowan look confused at the question. ‘Whoever would have believed me? That aside, I never knew what the prophecy meant. There was a time when I considered it to be about the Red Templars. On so many levels, I know now I was wrong.’. Running his hand through his straight black hair, Jowan bowed his head towards Leliana ‘It would be an honour to serve as Left Hand to the Her Most Holy.’

Cullen chortled at the mage’s observations. ‘Look at him, he is playing you Leliana. Consider what you are proposing? A malificar serving as the Left Hand of the Divine. Oh I dare say the Chantry will love that more than I!’. The Commander chuckled, shaking his head in disgust. Picking up a stone, he cast it furiously into the water and it skipped across the water several times before sinking into the red depths. ‘Why not ask Corypheus if he would be willing to serve as you Right Hand?’ asked Cullen sarcastically ‘It would make as much sense as having Jowan serve as your Left.’

‘The Chantry has my full support, for they witnessed a miracle before their very own eyes and cannot refute it. They will respect my choices and know they are of the Maker’s will.’ retorted Leliana sharply ‘Your reaction to this is understandable, however you are not to question the Maker.’

‘I will always question reason, no matter the shape or form it takes.’ replied Cullen dryly, casting Leliana a disapproving look.

Leliana smiled to herself, a smirk on her lips ‘Of course you will, that is one of the reasons I have always felt safer with you at my side.’. Her green eyes drew to the Commander’s ‘What is your answer, Cullen?’

The templar frowned, knowing all too well what the question was but wishing it was never presented to him. ‘Leliana tell me how can I properly serve as your Right Hand, and Knight-Commander of the Templar Order and Commander of the Inquisition? At the rate I’m going one risks portraying himself as after every position in Thedas.’

Leliana chuckled ‘You can serve just as well as I can serve as a prophet of the Maker, Divine Victoria, and Spymaster the Inquisition. Our roles are interconnected and we will find a way.’

‘I am only one man.’ muttered Cullen darkly.

‘You are a great one.’ praised Leliana ‘A man whose main role will change the realm in more ways than one.’

‘I remember.’ remarked Jowan suddenly, casting a fearful look to Leliana.

Her green eyes darted to the man swiftly ‘What do you remember?’

‘A vision…I do not know when…during the time between my death and my life. The sky was overcast and grey. I was on a barren windswept plain, similar to the moorlands of northern Ferelden. There were bodies everywhere….soldiers of the Inquisition and soldiers of an army that I did not recognize. Everyone was dead, and yet I stood there beside a shredded banner with three crowns on it.’. Jowan clutched his head, trying to recall the vision ‘And there were ravens…I was counting them as they cawed shrilly into the icy air and feasted on the eyes of the deceased.’

‘How many ravens were there?’ asked Leliana hastily.

Jowan’s somber black eyes lifted to meet hers ‘Six.’

Running a hand through her ginger hair, she turned away. Cullen noticed the fear on her face, and the look of desolation on Jowan’s.

‘Six is a sign of death.’ muttered Leliana, anticipating Cullen’s question.

‘Is this an omen for Corypheus?’ Cullen asked precariously, looking in confusion between the worried companions before him.

‘Yes and no.’ replied Leliana ‘This is a prophecy of the three false godheads, of which Corypheus is one. It is uncertain which battle Jowan has seen, but one thing is for certain.’

‘Death.’ murmured the mage.

Deep eyes lamenting upon the situation before him, a mere stirring of honey in the pot, Cullen knew trouble would be imminent as the days unfolded. He turned away from the shore and began to head inland towards Lydes. Leliana and Jowan watched as the Commander began to trudge through the marshlands.

‘Come then, we cannot waste another moment.’ Cullen called out to pair ‘We need to return to the Inquisition and inform them of what has happened.’


	52. Fever Dream

Riding back into Adamant all bloodied and bruised, I was only half aware of entering the keep. The bellow of soldiers and horses neighing were a blur, as were the sea of eyes pressed hard upon us from the Inquisition guards on the battlements. Rylen’s rich voice vaguely rang in my head and I somewhat remembered being carried off my horse and an arm wrapping firmly around my waist as I was hastily ushered into the barracks. Sporting a black eye and bruised forehead, including a deep cut on my cheek and several minor scratches, my wounds were superficial compared to Michel de Chevin’s. The knight had arrived before me back to the keep, and I had yet to see him although I was growing more impatient as the moments dragged on. The portly physician before me was more concerned in writing notes rather than attending to my wounds as I sat there wiping the blood and dirt off my face with a wet rag. The clouded water in a bowl before me was a bloody reminder of the events that unfolded earlier that morning.

To my displeasure the keep’s physician, Bavol Odo, soon revealed to be less of a healer and more of a quack. Wiping his sweaty lip as his bulging eyes blinked unnervingly fast, it was hard to ignore that Bavol reeked of spirits and was most likely intoxicated. He informed me that my body would benefit from the application of leeches, to aid in the cleansing of my blood. It was at that moment that I had leapt off the table and assured the physician that my blood was splendidly clean. Throwing a brief nod of farewell I departed the room, daring not to look back.

It was then that I spotted two familiar faces. In the adjoining room I caught sight of Michel laid out flat on a bed, his wound freshly dressed with clean gauze. He appeared asleep as Rylen stood beside his bed. The Knight-Commander lifted his head towards me as he noticed my presence at the door.

‘Ophelia, are you okay?’ asked Rylen in a low voice, approaching me at the door.

‘Honestly it hurts like the dickens.’ I replied, flinching in pain as I foolishly touched my cheek.

‘Well thank the Maker you were in better shape than the others that returned with you.’ remarked Rylen ‘You must tell what has happened here.’. The Knight-Commander cast a worried look to Michel before turning to me once more. Running his eyes across my facial injuries, the man frowned. ‘Our patrol of Inquisition soldiers overheard loud noise in the canyon and came across your party fighting with some unknown enemies. Well, the aftermath of fighting them, the soldiers counted six dead at the site. We suspect they were apart of some group for they all wore the same black armour. None of us could identify who they were. I know Cullen wished privacy in this matter but Ophelia I implore you to speak plainly with me now. This involves the Inquisition and I must know what we are dealing with.’

Sitting achingly on the long wooden table by the door, I tenderly rubbed my neck ‘We were dealing with the person involved in Leliana’s death. That is why we came out here to The Western Approach.’

Rylen looked unhappy at the answer. ‘I suppose it would be no great leap to conclude that it was a Grey Warden involved, considering there is an injured one in the other room.’

‘Is Nathaniel okay?’ I asked hastily. Noticing Rylen’s confusion at my concern of the supposed guilty party, I waved my hand. ‘No no no, Nathaniel had nothing to do with Leliana’s murder. He was working with Cullen in securing the guilty party Adamant Fortress.’. Fearing I had already revealed too much, I added in a whisper ‘Please Rylen, you cannot let anyone know about Nathaniel’s involvement in all of this. If anyone outside these rooms were to know we would all be in terrible danger.’

‘Well the entire keep knows you were under attack, there was no way to avoid that when we rode you all back here all coated in blood.’ replied Rylen ‘But what or who attacked your party, no one could say and I will make sure it stays that way. The soldiers mentioned that Cullen ordered secrecy about the Grey Warden. They took the initiative to wrap a cloak around Nathaniel’s armour before entering into the gates, and he is being kept isolated for the moment.’

‘Is he okay?’ I asked in concern.

‘Aye he is awake and in good health considering all things.’ replied Rylen ‘A dagger wounded his left arm quite badly. He had a nasty knock to the head also, was a bit dazed there for a while. Rest assure he will be fine though.’

Sighing in relief, I nodded my head.

‘If not Nathaniel, then who was the Grey Warden responsible for Leliana’s death?’ asked Rylen curiously.

Casting my eyes around the room, I ensured no one was lingering close by to hear what I had to say. ‘The woman who arranged for Leliana’s death was Sierra Amell.’

The Knight-Commander grew deathly white upon hearing the name, drawing his fingers to his now closed eyes. ‘By Andraste this is worse that I had anticipated.’ murmured Rylen ‘No wonder Cullen desired secrecy on the matter.’. The man suddenly looked at me in concern ‘Where is Cullen now? Still he has not returned to the keep.’

Shaking my head, I grew quiet. Logic defied what I had witnessed at the Lost Spring Canyon and yet that was the only account I could give the man before me.

‘You won’t believe me if I tell you Rylen.’ I muttered ‘I fear you’ll conclude my head was hit harder than it looks, if that is possible.’

Rylen sat down beside me, his arms crossed as he waited patiently for my explanation ‘Ophelia you and I may only be acquaintances, but Cullen is one of my closest friends. You can tell me anything in the strictest of confidence and rest assure that I will do everything in my power to help you.’

‘It’s not that.’ I frowned ‘What happened today defies explanation. Ah but I am getting ahead of myself. Nathaniel had arranged to meet us in the Lost Spring Canyon at dawn, where he agreed to bring Sierra. However Sierra was warned of our planned attack and we were ambushed. She used blood magic on Cullen, but Ath-..’. I grew silent, my thoughts drawing back to the treacherous mage that had saved the life of the man that I loved.

‘Go on.’ encouraged Rylen gently, placing a hand on mine.

I raised my eyes in surprise, but was grateful for the kind nature of the man. ‘Athalwolf released Cullen of Sierra’s blood magic but she got to her bow faster than we could react and had Cullen at range. Just before she released the arrow at him, someone intervened and diverted the shot that would have certainly killed him.’

‘Well thank the Maker!’ chuckled Rylen, shaking his head in amusement and looking more than a little relieved ‘I swear that man is the cat with nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the three he stays.’

‘Leliana was one that saved Cullen.’ I added seriously, my eyes meeting Rylen’s and my head nodding slowly as the man’s smile faded.

‘Ah…but Leliana is dead.’ reminded Rylen precariously, his eyes darting to my injuries. I knew he was considering the possibility that my mind had truly been addled during the assault.

‘I know Rylen, I’m as confused as you are.’ I replied ‘Yet we all saw her standing there. There was no mistaking it. Sierra and Athalwolf fled, and Cullen and Leliana set off after them.’

‘There are stories where I come from in Starkhaven of spirits that come to the aid of those they care for?’ suggested Rylen kindly, if not a little patronising ‘Perhaps this is what you saw?

‘A ghost that shoots real arrows?’ I replied skeptically ‘That is one impressive spirit. Of course the alternative is just as ludicrous.’

‘Why did Athalwolf run away?’ asked Rylen with a frown.

Laughing sourly, I bit my cracked bottom lip ‘It appears that we were deceived. Athalwolf was in league with Sierra. I am certain now that he was the one who murdered Leliana back in Skyhold.’

‘Andraste preserve me…Athalwolf was behind all this?’ murmured the shocked Knight Commander ‘The man was so pleasant, even for a mage-’. Rylen hesitated, throwing me a guilty look. ‘Sorry, I did not intend for it come out like that.’

Nodding, I knew exactly what he meant. Rylen may not have intended for his words to have sounded like that, but he spoke as most people thought. That mages were some form of cursed beings that the Maker had turned his eye from. Unlikeable and untrustworthy in general. That much I was certain of. It was the exact prejudice that Athalwolf and I were trying to change. The boundaries that separated mage from templar. Mage from every other non-mage in Thedas. To my absolute dismay the creation of the Mage Order and the plans we had made to move into Riddlehamhope Castle were now in tatters. And now a further taint now awaited the mages cause when word inevitably spread that a malificar had possessed an Orlesian mage noble and had gained control over the mage tower at the Inquisition. Judgement and mistrust would be thrown at the Inquisition, and my decision to give the mages their freedom would be reproached. I would rather have been damned for eternity than inform Knight-Commander Rylen at that moment that Athalwolf was indeed a malificar and in fact another person entirely named Jowan.

‘Forgive me Rylen, I must go to Michel.’ I muttered, rising to my feet with a grimace as my knee throbbed with heat. My head was pounding and a wave of nausea swept over me as I hobbled towards where my friend lay.

Approaching the unconscious knight, he looked pale and weak as beads of sweat revealed themselves all over his ghostly face. In fright I frantically drew up to the Orlesian that looked even worse than when he was on the battlefield.

‘Someone help!’ I called out desperately, drawing my hand to Michel’s forehead. It was burning hot, and on closer examination it was apparent a fever had taken hold of his body. I was no healer but I had seen enough battles to sense that ominous presence of death lingering not too far away.

Bavol Odo casually waddled into the room whistling a soft tune to himself, and I glared at the keep’s physician angrily. ‘This man has an infection. Why is there no cold compresses on his head? Are you going to treat him properly?’

The arrogant physician ran his pudgy digits across his fleshy cheek, commencing to write in his notes and refused to acknowledge Michel or i for several minutes as I scathed at the man. Finally he looked up nonchalantly, casting a disinterested look back at me. ‘Madam I have examined his humours and it is apparent he is lacking in the element of air. All is well.’

‘Are you serious?!’ I retorted in disgust ‘You are entrusted in healing our Second in Command and you are talking to me about blasted humours!?’

‘Madam I do not expect you understand the intellectual intricacies of the science of healing.’ Bavol retorted, waving his quill in the air ‘By restoring the balance of the humours our Maister of Blades will return to us in better health than before. These are matters beyond the comprehension of a non-physician.’

Running my eyes up and down the man in fury, I scoffed as his observations. ‘Air humours relate to the blood, yes? And you have come to the expert conclusion that Michel is lacking in blood? How remarkable, however did you figure that out?’. Suddenly noticing a small bowl and knife in the physician’s hands, my eyes grew wider in disbelief. Drawing my finger to an accusing point, I added ‘Are those what I think they are?!’

Bavol rolled his eyes as he made his way towards Michel ‘A course of leeches will cleanse his illness and then I shall perform a bloodletting to remove the impurities.’

‘He’s lost too much blood already, and you propose to drain him of what’s left!!!??’ I remarked furiously ‘Are you trying to kill him?’

The physician snickered at my comment, and drew up to the ex-chevalier ‘What you fail to understand is that when people fall into sickness as your companion here has, it is often of the Maker’s doing and His divine punishment for the sins of the mortal man. I must cleanse this man’s blood of impurities in order to save his….wh-what are you doing?’

The physician turned a fearful eye to me. Murmuring under my breath, my hands flashed with sparks of blue light as cold as ice. Bavol froze in his tracks with an expression of horror, literally, as I cast Winter’s Grasp on him. His grotesque form fearfully clutching his barbaric tools of the trade were entombed in ice as I called for the guards.

Rylen and two soldiers appeared at the door, looking in surprise between the iced physician and a seething Inquisitor.

‘Rylen if you do not take this repulsive charlatan and throw him into the dungeons then Maker help me I will execute him here on the spot.’ I scorned ‘Look at Michel here! He is withering away while this dimwit of yours plans to bleed him out! Is this how we are caring for our soldiers at the keep these days?!’

Rylen clicked his fingers sharply to the men beside him. ‘Take him away immediately.’ The Inquisition soldiers awkwardly carried out the large frozen man as Rylen made his way into the room. ‘I am sorry Ophelia,’ apologized the Knight Commander ‘we were informed Michel was doing well.’

‘Do you have any other healers in the keep?’ I asked quietly, looking down at the cold beads of sweat on Michel’s forehead. Running my hand through his blonde hair, Michel’s eyelids flinched several times but remained shut.

‘It is a hard outpost to fill, I’m afraid.’ replied Rylen regretfully, looking over at Michel with concern ‘Our last healer was unfortunately wounded a month back by an Abyssal High Dragon and he was forced to return home in Ivresse. Bavol was sent as his replacement. Since the Red Templars have come into Thedas, healers have been harder to come by. Every village desperately needs people who can cure the sick, and none are willing to let their physicians go. I suspect there was a reason Bavol was allowed to leave his village.’

‘Michel will die if we don’t get proper help soon.’ I whispered, looking fearfully to the Knight-Commander.

Rylen understood the dire situation and commenced for the door ‘Do not fear, I will ask every man and woman in the keep whether they can help. Leave it to me’

****

It was late at night and still I had refused to leave the side of Michel. There had been several times when the ex-chevalier had stirred from his feverish dreams to mutter in feverish elvish and the common tongue. His blue eyes burned as he spoke of a tower in Parlesque, begging me over and over again to let him go to a woman named Bianca-Maria. Sometimes he referred to me as Ophelia, while other times as Helena. In his dreams Michel whispered of Banal Nadas repetitively, and I knew that was the name of his beautiful elvish clan blade. Nothing was inevitable. On more than once occasion I distinctly heard the ex-chevalier mention the gardens in Skyhold and the elvish words lathbora viran, although what that meant was beyond me.

Dark were those moments that the knight’s teeth chattered and his skin seared hot while I diligently patted a cold cloth all over his flesh. He cried out often, as if the coolness on his skin was causing him excruciating pain. Feeling helpless, I continued to try and bring his temperature down despite his discomfort. Stroking my fingers through his blond hair, I noticed the scars on his face and my eyes welled with tears as I recalled the time I had asked him about them. In Tanteridge where we were surrounded by colourful blooms and warmer days, and dire moments like the present seemed like a mere echo of a memory.

‘You need to keep on fighting ma’arlath.’ I whispered, dipping the cloth back into the basin of water and wringing it tight before bringing it to Michel’s forehead once more. The ex-chevalier moaned as the cool compress touched him, and I lowered my lips to his head and placed a kiss on his cheek. Instantly he grew calm once more, and that made me feel a little better.

As the sun rose my eyes drifted shut and I slept a while by his bed, only to be awoken now and then to the cries of Michel or the occasional person entering the room. Midday came and wet, and soon afternoon transformed into evening once more, with Michel still not waking from his fever. The torches were lit in the room and I refused Rylen’s offer to keep watch while I retired for the night. How could I sleep in my bed while Michel slowly faded away?

As midnight approached the quiet of the keep was disturbed by a ruckus of galloping horses and several men and women in the courtyard calling out. I recognized Rylen’s voice talking loudly to another man, before suddenly appearing at the door of the barracks.

‘He is in here.’ informed Rylen, extending his hand towards Michel.

Looking up I was greeted by a tall and slender man with piercing black eyes. He had long black straight hair that fell to the base of his neck, pale white skin, dark deep set brows on a broad forehead, and held a wide jaw with dark unshaven stubble. The man appeared in his early thirties, and had the definite strong facial features of a Ferelden. Catching each other’s eye, he looked at me with a comfortable ease that I found curious from a stranger.

Walking up to Michel, the stranger immediately began to examine the ex-chevalier as he hovered his hands across his body, inches away from contact. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply into his chest, until he stopped at a spot near Michel’s navel.

‘He was wounded by an axe on his right side.’ I remarked, pointing to a higher place just below his rib.

Nodding his head, the man continued to hold his hands over the place he had stopped by his belly button. ‘Yes but he has an infection that has moved in his blood.’ he murmured ‘The infection is here.’

Moving to Michel’s bandage, the man peeled backed the gauze to inspect the wound, which was oozing. Frowning, he looked up at me ‘What cretin has been looking after him? Don’t tell me it was that pleb Bavol?’

‘He was…’ I replied hesitantly, wondering how this man knew of Bavol ‘...that was before I sent him to dungeons when he was about to perform a bloodletting on Michel.’

‘Muttonhead.’ muttered the man. Looking over to a guard by the door, he snapped his fingers sharp ‘Quickly now, I’m going to need cloves of fresh garlic, onion, oil of oregano, elfroot, comfrey and cinnamon. Do you know of any deathroot trees nearby?’

‘Yes sir.’ nodded the guard ‘’Tis a lot of it outside the keep.’

‘Good, go get someone to gather the bark from the tree and bring it back here immediately. At least three handfuls of it. Oh and I need freshly boiled water in a pot at this fire. Time is of the essence here, so hurry. Also I need you to retrieve the pack of Athalwolf Guildersleeve from his chambers and bring it to me here.’

The soldier nodded and descended hastily as I continued to look more baffled at the man before me.

‘Are you a friend of Athalwolf’s?’ I asked tentatively.

His black eyes flickered momentarily to mine before looking away. Retreating to the side of the room, the man began to rummage through Boval’s healer’s chest sitting on the table. Scoffing at the contents one by one, the man tossed aside bottles containing ingredients labelled crushed wyvern’s tooth and dried bear innards.

‘The imbecile thinks he can cure ailments with faeces and crushed bone.’ scorned the man, opening a silver flask he had found wedged in the side of the chest. He sniffed the contents with a scoff. Casting his eyes back to me, the man nodded briefly ‘Athalwolf and I are well acquainted.’

Sweeping back his black hair, the man returned swiftly to Michel’s side and began to pour the contents of the flask onto the infected wound. The ex-chevalier winced, not waking but in apparent discomfort.

‘Shhhh.’ murmured the man, stroking the Orlesian’s hair off his forehead ‘This will help I promise.’. Raising a cynical brow to me, he added ‘It appears the only helpful ingredient in Boval’s chest is the tipple he swigs when no one is looking.’

Rylen suddenly appeared at the door, looking more than a little animated. ‘Ophelia, would you come with me for a moment?’

‘Is it important?’ I replied, looking back at the stranger tending to Michel ‘I would rather be here-‘

‘Cullen has returned.’ interjected Rylen hastily, drawing his hand to lead me out ‘He is waiting in the guest quarters.’

Lowering my head into my hands, I grew quiet as my emotions got the better of me. ‘Thank goodness.’ I murmured, more than a little relieved to know Cullen had returned alive. Casting my attention to the stranger, he drew his black eyes to me and nodded reassuringly. ‘Do not fear, I am no Bavol. Michel will be fine with me, you have my word.’

A stranger perhaps, but his reassurance gave me a strange comfort as I left the room.

‘Thank you for finding him.’ I remarked to Rylen as we made our way up the stairs to the inner keep.

‘You should be thanking Cullen.’ observed the Knight-Commander ‘The man rode in several minutes ahead and said that he was a healer that could aid Michel and Nathaniel, sent forward by the Commander. I’m not in the habit of trusting strangers riding into my keep at midnight, but it seems he was telling the truth. Cullen arrived just before and confirmed he sent him on ahead.’

Winding through the dark keep we finally reached a closed wooden door. The Knight-Commander knocked and opened the door, allowing me to enter the room before closely it quickly behind me.

The room looked similar to my own chambers in the Griffon Wing Keep, simple if not barren asides from a bed, cupboard and table. Before me, resting his hand against the mantelpiece of the small fire in the room was Cullen. The Commander raised his head and threw me a tired but pleased smile and I rushed towards the man, embracing him tightly.

‘Are you all right?’ Cullen asked gently, sweeping back my brown hair to kiss me gently on my bruised cheek ‘Maker’s breath you were hurt in the battle. I am so sorry I had to leave you like that out there.’

Smiling, I kissed him back enthusiastically. ‘I understand and all is well. Cullen thank goodness you are alive, I was sick with worry.’ Nestling my head into the crook of his neck as he held me tight, I began to kiss him on the nape. The softness of his body suddenly grew somewhat rigid, and I drew back to see Cullen looking over at the corner of the room behind me. Turning, my eyes grew wide in fright as I beheld our Spymaster looking at me with her arms crossed rather smugly.

‘Leliana?’ I whispered.

‘It is good to see once more Inquisitor.’ smiled Leliana, stepping towards me with her arms outstretched. Embracing me as a friend, I remained stiff in her arms before she finally pulled away. ‘This must be strange for you, no?’ she added with a small grin.

Laughing rather uncomfortably at the comment, I remained speechless as the pair drew me to a chair by the fire and commenced to explain their ordeal in its entirety. From the moment Leliana awoke in Val Royeaux, to how she rode to the Western Approach guided by a vision she had experienced during her immortal sleep. One that told her she needed to save Cullen at the Lost Canyon Spring. I learnt of Athalwolf’s death at the spell cast by Sierra in the marshlands by The Waking Sea, one that was intended for Leliana. Of Sierra’s death by the hand of Cullen, and her body now resting in a bog. So shocking a tale and yet none of this prepared me for the next part. The part where Athalwolf’s burnt corpse was thrown into the red waters of The Waking Sea and arose as Jowan. Jowan had been resurrected, his body cleansed and recreated once more in the image of the Ferelden mage.

The mage that I had seen moments before tending to the wounds of Michel.

Rubbing my eyes tiredly, I shook my head ‘I’m sorry you are going to have to forgive me if this takes a moment to get used to all of this.’

Turning my eyes to the fire, I grew quiet. What could I possibly say to all of this? The woman before me claimed she had been resurrected by the Maker. This was the woman that wanted Cullen to sire a child with her. Neither of them had mentioned anything about that, and yet it was the only thing I was truly concerned about. Where did Cullen and I fit into Leliana’s plans now that she was the Most Holy Divine Victoria?

Cullen nodded silently, as if he too was finding it hard to digest all the recent events. ‘There are many things that will need to be addressed further when the time is right.’

‘Take as much time as you need.’ reassured Leliana ‘And take comfort in the fact that the Maker supports you both through me. The Chantry is at the Inquisition’s side.’

‘The Chantry?’ I replied uncertainly ‘How would they aid in fighting Corypheus?’

‘With our support, Thedas will stand united against the Magister.’ affirmed Leliana ‘Nothing will be able to stop us now.’

Uneasy was an understatement to what I felt towards these last words spoken by the spymaster. It appeared to me that Leliana’s reference to us could have more accurately been intended as me.

Arising from my chair, I looked at my companions with a frown. ‘I should go see how Michel is doing. You both probably need some time to…catch up.’

‘Of course, you should be with him.’ remarked Leliana ‘We can speak later. Send my best wishes to Michel.’. A warm smile covered Leliana’s face as I departed the room.

Best wishes indeed. With a scowl on my face I walked hastily down the dark cloister, hearing footsteps chasing after me as I hurried away.

‘Ophelia wait.’ called out Cullen.

The Commander overtook me and stood in front of me, causing me to halt in my tracks. His face was cast in shadow and I knew he was as unsettled as I was. Taking my hand, the templar led me further away from the chamber we had previously gathered in, and set out across to the battlements where we could speak away from any unwanted ears.

Stopping at a secluded part of the battlements, Cullen drew me closer to him.

‘Sufficed to say this is as much a shock to me that it is to you.’ murmured Cullen, wrapping his arms around me. I remained quiet, unwilling to look at him as he tried to hold my attention. ‘Talk to me.’ he murmured softly.

‘You have agreed to become her Right Hand.’ I observed darkly ‘What more have you agreed upon?’

Cullen grew quiet, knowing all too well what I was referring to. ‘Leliana has not mentioned the child and I would not be foolish enough to bring it to her mind at present.’

‘Cullen I can guarantee it is definitely on her mind at present.’ I scoffed ‘What are you going to say when the topic is addressed?’

The Commander hesitated and I recoiled from his embrace in disgust.

‘She was resurrected by the Maker.’ observed Cullen shortly ‘Everything Leliana has foreseen so far has come true. Forgive me for being at a loss of words at the moment, there is a lot we must take in. But yes, I can tell you that it is not my wish to have a child with her.’

‘You didn’t answer the question.’ I replied coldly, watching on as the templar refused to elaborate ‘Perhaps we both already know the answer?’

‘Ophelia I meant what I said. I love you and nothing will tear us apart.’ replied Cullen determinedly ‘The only child I desire to have one of these days would be with you. That is my answer. What you must understand however is that we are dealing with someone so powerful that it is imperative to tread carefully. Very, very carefully.’

‘Then we have already lost.’ I muttered dismally ‘To be forced to tread on eggshells around someone in our inner circle is not going to end well.’

Cullen rested against the parapet and looked out into the darkness ‘Neither is striking down the beliefs of others because you do not believe them yourself.’. Growing quiet, he threw his head down as if in prayer ‘I am sorry for this extra burden on you. I knew the moment you and I became involved I was dragging you into something that you did not deserve. I know you do not see it, but Leliana only has good intentions behind her actions.’

Resting besides the man, shoulder to shoulder, I threw him a concerned look ‘Cullen I love you. How can I protect you from this woman? Leliana will not stop when she has a duty to perform. And this one involves you being the father of her child.’

‘Not if I can help it.’ muttered Cullen ‘Perhaps she has received new insight into this vision of hers? I need to believe there will be some way of reasoning with her.’. Looking sadly towards me, the Templar wrapped his arm around me. ‘I will be drawn away on more duties now that I have this blasted new title. In advance, I am so very sorry for that.’

‘Why in the world did you agree to become her Right Hand?’ I asked miserably.

Cullen scoffed at the question, clenching his jaw as he gazed coldly out across the desert. ‘Because you do not say no to the Divine. I was thirteen when I joined the Templar ranks, and my entire life has been dedicated to serving the Chantry. Now I have become head of the Order, and I know I can never turn a blind eye to a request by the Chantry irrespective of my personal desires. We are whole when united, and when the Divine seeks me to serve as the Right Hand I must obey. In the Maker’s eyes, I am blessed.’

‘You told me that faith alone would not serve what needs to be accomplished.’ I retorted in irritation ‘What does it matter if you decline the position? You told me we all have a weapon in our hand and we should use it.’

‘Aye and it is good advice then as it is now.’ chortled Cullen ‘Yet surely you can see a knight wielding a sword in his Order’s armour has an advantage over the peasant in the field wielding a pitch fork? I hold a triangle of allegiances that are invaluable to our cause, the worst thing I could do right now is cast them aside and encourage hostility. The Templars and the Chantry are on our side Ophelia, you must see how this plays into our hand? Even in regards to your Mage Order.’

Laughing, I rolled my eyes. ‘Oh you mean the one I was establishing with a malificar pretending to be a man called Athalwolf Guildersleeve?’

The Commander wrapped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed tight ‘I am sorry Ophelia, I fear you were betrayed most of all by Jowan. Maker knows I don’t trust the man, no matter what Leliana believes him to be.’

‘I believed he was my friend.’ I replied sadly ‘Yet it was so much more than that. I had this wonderful rapport with the man. We were so similar. Yet what was that? An act on his behalf? Or am I alike to some wicked malificar?’

‘Never trust that man.’ warned Cullen ‘There is not an honest bone in his body.’

Shrugging, I looked dismally across the plains ‘Well he fooled me.’

‘None of this is ideal,’ muttered Cullen ‘but we must not forget our main cause. Let us keep our friends close and our enemy’s closer.’

‘Then you are playing the game just like the rest of them?’ I replied morosely.

‘If you are forced to play a hand, you might as well play in the right game.’ pointed out Cullen ‘You forget Inquisitor that you too play the same game, whether you like to see it or not.’

I snickered at the comment, not believing his words.

Cullen shrugged ‘Tell me Ophelia, do you think you would have been able to accomplish as much with the mages had you not been the Inquisitor? Your title opens doors that would otherwise have been shut.’

‘It’s not that Cullen.’ I muttered. Turning my hurt gaze upon him, I tried to muster the words that had been eating away at me. ‘You hid your involvement with Leliana from me for all this time, and I was willing to forgive that. Forgive and forget. But now? Leliana is back and I cannot stand by watching her make you dance to her tune once more.’

‘You forget that I detest dancing.’ grinned Cullen, sweeping me into his arms again. The Commander bent his head, his wavy curls falling onto my face as his lips embraced mine. ‘Ophelia I love you. Not Leliana. Not any other woman. You must trust me when I say I have this under control.’

‘I cannot bear to lose you Cullen.’ I murmured. Revealing a pleased smile on my face, I turned my head away.

‘What?’ he asked suspiciously, a smile now growing on his face ‘That there is a look of pure malice.’

‘You said you wanted to have a child with me one day?’ I observed in amusement ‘I never thought you of all people would say that to a mage!’

The Commander threw me a cynical raised brow ‘A templar having a child with a mage, what possibly could go wrong?’

Pushing him in the arm, the Templar grinned back at me.

‘Oh ha ha.’ I jeered ‘You would be willing to have a child that could end up being a mage? Did a bear knock you over the head in the marshlands?’

‘I love you and you are a mage.’ rationalised Cullen ‘Were I to have a child with arcane abilities, what would be the difference?’. The Commander squeezed my hand ‘Ophelia if there is one thing that I have grown to appreciate over time, it is that time is fleeting and love should never be delayed. Not for title or material wealth or in pursuit of better days, for what are those in the greater scheme of things?’

‘Well you know us, always after money and positions.’ I joked, rolling my eyes.

Cullen laughed ‘You know what I mean. I love you Trevelyan.’

Placing a fond kiss on his cheek, I whispered in his ear ‘I love you Rutherford.’

Sighing heavily, my attention turned back towards the barracks. ‘I should go.’ I remarked ‘Jowan is with Michel, and that makes me uneasy.’

‘How is Michel?’ asked Cullen seriously ‘One of the soldiers mentioned he had not awoken since they brought him to the keep.’

Biting my lip, I nodded. ‘He has a fever that I have been trying to bring down. Jowan said that he had an infection. Let us hope he can help.’

‘Ophelia you look exhausted, go and rest.’ remarked Cullen ‘I can go and ensure Jowan is aiding Michel.’

‘No I need to be there for Michel.’ I replied shortly. Cullen looked at me in surprise, noticing my tone had changed in that moment. I threw an apologetic look to the man. ‘Sorry Cullen, you’re right I am tired and not myself. It’s just…you did not see during the fight that I was inches away from being bludgeoned to death by an axe by one of the assailants. It was Michel who intervened seconds before the blade struck. He saved my life.’

Cullen lowered his head. ‘Thank the Maker.’. Turning to me he wrapped his arms around me affectionately ‘Then I am indebted to Michel for the rest of my days, and happy to be so considering the alternative. This deed will not go unrecognized, I swear it. Go to him. I need to speak to Nathaniel and will join you soon.’

Noticing Cullen’s worried expression at mentioning Nathaniel, I hesitated on departing. ‘Sierra is dead by your hand Cullen. If Alistair finds out-‘

‘He won’t.’ replied Cullen sternly.

‘Alistair knew we wanted to talk to Sierra and now she is missing.’ I replied doubtfully ‘We need to be prepared for the worst.’

The Commander looked up at the sky, now a light reddish-orange as the sun rose ‘He will have his suspicions, but no proof. That is enough to secure our innocence.’

Embracing each other once more, we departed our separate ways on the battlements. A new sun rising perhaps, and yet it was uncertain what the new day would bring. My eyes lifted to the red glow above me and with a frown I recalled what Dryn used to say at the end of a day in Kirkwall.

Red sun at night, pirate’s delight. Red sky at morning, pirate’s warning.


	53. Jowan’s Lament

Everything seemed so surreal as I ambled through the keep, passing yawing soldiers ready to start the new day and bleary eyed guards retiring from their night post. The brown short-haired Orlesian hounds barked from their kennels in the courtyard, excitedly salivating for a meal as the kitchen help approached with scraps of meat and bread. Plumes of smoke wafted from the battlements where guards were enjoying tea and a morning pipe, while the baking of warm bread rising from the iron ovens filled the keep with a delightful yeasty scent. The day was well on its way, as if nothing had happened the day before. Yet so much had and it felt wrong to be immersed in the normal daily routine.

_Leliana was alive._

If I had not beheld her with my own eyes and touched her with my own hands I would never have believed it. Could the Maker really have resurrected her? She had claimed she had been resurrected by the Maker in the Temple of Andraste but in all honesty I wasn’t entirely convinced. I had seen how the people had declared I had been resurrected by the Maker from the ruins at Haven, when really it was owed to incredible luck on my behalf. Such miracles were that of folk tales, and while they were a nice concept I was dubious at whether the Maker himself existed let alone the fact that he was now resurrecting his faithful. For now however, if there was another explanation at hand I could not bring it to mind no matter how hard I tried. The Spymaster had either deceived us in her death or had been brought back to life.

_Either way, she was alive._

Naturally Leliana’s return was wonderful news for the Inquisition, and for the Chantry. For me however…not so much. Not that I desired Leliana to meet a mortal end. And there was no reason to wish death to a woman who had done so much good for the people of Thedas. She had almost single-handedly created the Inquisition and kept it running. Her eyes and ears filled the lands and retrieved important snippets of information. Indeed Leliana was the Inquisition, and quite possibly the only reason any of us stood a chance against Corypheus.

Upon discovering Leliana to be alive I should have felt joy. As Inquisitor, I should have felt relief. Yet all that filled me were thoughts of a jealous lover. Foolish and shameful sentiments. Here I was the Inquisitor and all I was concerned about was how Cullen and I would be affected by Leliana’s return.

‘Let us be thankful she has returned and leave it at that.’ I muttered darkly to myself.

As the sun blinked across the stone battlements I turned away from the brilliant golden rays of the desert and entered into the healing quarters, where I halted sharp in my steps. The sound of my leather boots scuffing against the stone drew the attention of a man sitting quietly in the room. With large dark eyes, sharp and alert, he looked up quickly.

It was Jowan.

A soft breath exhaled from the mage’s lips as he drew his black hair off his pale brow with a steady hand, his attention unwavering as he silently watched me enter into the room.

There was much to say and yet I remained silent, drawing over to the side of the sleeping ex-chevalier. Michel looked peaceful, and upon feeling his cheek I was relieved to find the fever has subsided. It was a good sign.

As the painful moments drew on, Jowan finally broke the quiet and uneasy atmosphere of the room with his heavy Ferelden accent. ‘I understand you must feel betrayed.’ he acknowledged somewhat guardedly ‘Were I to explain to you the complexities of the situation that I found myself to be in I doubt whether you would ever truly understand. You must trust me when I say I never intended any of this.’

All I could do was throw the man a look of disdain. ‘When someone lies to your face for months on end it makes it very difficult to trust them. The person I called friend was Athalwolf Guildersleeve. You and I, it appears, have never met.’

‘In the physical form perhaps, but in every other way it has always been me.’ replied Jowan determinedly ‘Yes I played the part of the son of Lord Byron but everything you knew about me, aside from that, has been me.’

Trying to suppress my cynical laughter, I scoffed instead at his ludicrous statement. ‘Merely played the part of Lord Byron’s son, you say?’ I scorned ‘That was the essence of who Athalwolf was. All those stories of your noble upbringing, and Orlesian traditions. You being the brother to Mabel Guildersleeve, and grieving for the loss of your dear sister. That was all a lie. Dare I even ask what happened to the real Athalwolf Guildersleeve? What has become of that poor man?’

Jowan looked away from me, back towards Michel, unwilling to meet my accusing glare. ‘He died when I took his form.’ replied the mage sombrely ‘There is nothing to be done about that now.’

‘I suppose then you’ll justify his death?’ I added in disgust ‘Tell me, was that for the greater good?’

‘No.’ murmured Jowan ‘There is no excuse for what I did.’

Looking down at the ex-chevalier before me, I added bitterly ‘You enabled Imshael, a demon, to possess Michel de Chevin. You almost killed him, Cullen, Varric, the Inquisition soldiers and myself. You assassinated Leliana. You tried to murder Cassandra and then had the nerve to pretend to be the hero. Saving her life so no one would suspect the pitiful creature that you really are.’

‘Sierra blackmailed me and it was foolish of me to follow her orders, I know that.’ replied Jowan darkly ‘I tried to save Cassandra’s life because I knew what I had done was wrong. Believe me I was sickened by it. She would have died, and I did everything to make amends for my deplorable actions and allow her to live. Yes I accept responsibility. I accept what I have done is unforgivable.’. Looking at me, he added somewhat determinedly ‘Yet day by day as I served the Inquisition I found my ways changing for the better. I helped and I served your cause. Perhaps I will never be considered a respectable person, but I was making a difference. I had changed.’

Appearing more than a little cynical at Jowan’s declaration, I shook my head in disbelief. ‘People do not change. They apply masks and perfume, but beneath the trappings they are always the same. How can you claim to be any different?’

‘Do you really believe that?’ asked Jowan, a furrow forming on his brow.

In all honesty I knew it was hard to say. ‘I’m not sure.’ I replied ‘Perhaps it depends on the person. Perhaps it depends on what they went through, and what they intend to do with that experience.’

Jowan nodded in agreement ‘Then I ask you to try and understand the experiences I have stemmed from, for a string of unfortunate and unpleasant events have brought me to where I am now. Make no mistake, my life was not a kind one. I was born into a world of rejection. Consumed by hate from experiencing life as a downtrodden mage in the Circle, day in and day out until I was finally forced to flee for my life. People treated me no better than manure and expected me to be thankful for it. To accept the fact that I was better off dead. I wanted each and every one of them to suffer as they had made me. Whether through blade or poison or magic, I wanted every pathetic cruel life to be extinguished. If it was by my hand then so be it, I cared not. My fury could have filled every ocean in Thedas and still have been brimming within me. Always was I seeking to release it, if only a little part. When Josephine found me hiding away from the world, alone in that ramshackle of a hut at the base of the Frostback Mountains, the only thing that was keeping me alive was my rage. Those miserable dwarven merchants in Orzammer had chased me away from my previous life, jealous of my flourishing trade as an alchemist. I had nothing but my blinding hatred of all things.’

‘You lived in Orzammer?’ I perplexed ‘Why were you living with the dwarves?’

Jowan shrugged, as if implying there was no definitive reason ‘I lived just outside of Orzammer on the outskirts of the Fahn’rin Forest. During the day I would trade alongside with the other merchants. All the good it did for me. Perhaps I was safe from the templars but not from rapacious cave dwellers who desired to steal my trade. Do you not see? Every time I attempted to live a normal existence something would find a way to steer me from my path.’. Jowan paused to notice my unconvinced look. ‘It is not an excuse, just an observation.’ he added defensively ‘When Josephine sought my help, I saw a new opportunity had presented itself. One to fuel that anger and seek revenge. However when you put me to work in the mage tower at Skyhold I realised day by day my anger started to dissipate.’. A small smile drew on Jowan’s face, his mind reflecting to former days. ‘Never in my life had I laughed or felt happy. Felt like I belonged somewhere and was respected as an equal. As I began to help others, that fury within me faded away and was replaced with an inner peace. I felt whole again. It was so…strange. The Inquisition gave me clarity in the end.’

‘Well aren’t you the noble creature.’ I muttered ‘Did this revelation happen before or after you sacrificed Josephine to save your own neck?’

‘Before.’ replied Jowan rigidly. Turning his black eyes to me, he looked strong in his conjecture ‘There are many things that I regret but Josephine’s death is not one of them. It was obvious she would not have stopped until she had consumed Cullen and destroyed the Inquisition. Whether you believe me or not, she would never have stopped. When we were in Skyhold she asked me to make another deal with a demon in order to fully secure Cullen’s affections.’

‘What?’ I gasped, throwing him an incredulous look.

‘Yes.’ replied Jowan flatly ‘One way or the other Josephine was adamant to make Cullen love her. I offered her poison instead. Trust me Ophelia, those chocolates were a mercy to Cullen compared to what Josephine had install for him had she got her way.’

‘But instead of you ending it then and there, and telling Josephine no you enabled her to fuck Cullen against his own freewill.’ I remarked furiously, my eyes flashing with rage ‘You allowed her to use him. Have you no shame?’

‘In securing my own safety I have murdered innocents, betrayed good people, served the wicked, and entertained more demons than you would care to know.’ replied Jowan darkly ‘Of course I have shame.’

‘What are we supposed to tell the Guildersleeve family?’ I demanded, growing more and more annoyed ‘Or the Inquisition mages that grew to love their mentor Athalwolf? What do I tell Michel, if he ever wakes up? That you were the reason we once again ALMOST DIED!!!!’

My heart was pounding as a violence surged within me. Looking upon this deceptive mage, all I wanted to do was make him pay for all the harm he had caused to the people I cared for. An uneasy tremor in my arm started as my breath drew sharp. A berserker rage flowed through me, screaming at me to settle this fury physically.

Jowan raised his hand to placate me, a miserable look on his face ‘I am sorry.’

‘Damn you!’ I screamed ‘We gave you everything and look how you have treated us?!’

Jowan’s hand reached out and grabbed my arm but I pushed him angrily way. Reaching for a nearby wooden bowl resting on the bedside table, I threw it hard towards the mage. Salt spilled from it and with a dull thud, the bowl hit Jowan on the temple. A trickle of blood formed as he stepped back a few steps, crashing into the wooden shelf. Looking dazed for a moment, the mage shook his head before throwing me a pair of furious eyes.

‘I deserve more than you could possibly do to me!’ yelled Jowan angrily ‘I know what I truly deserve.’

‘Not even death wants you Jowan.’ I shouted back fiercely ‘What does that tell you?’

The mage threw me a hurt look. ‘It tells me a great deal’ he replied wistfully ‘I received what I deserved at the shores of the Waking Sea. Death had been served and I suffered in my final moments. But now? What has happened to me? What am I???’. He screamed out in frustration, a wild look in his eyes as he thrust his shaking hands out at me. ‘What is this?! My body was burnt, so whose hands are these?’. Breaking down into a sobbing ball on the floor, Jowan clenched his black hair in frustration as if ready to rip it out in clumps. ‘I wanted to die…I wanted to die. There was nothing left for me here. I hoped to see Lily once more as Sierra’s spell took my life. I melted away from this disgusting world. So worthless and pathetic. The templars were right. They were right. An abomination waiting to happen, that is all I ever was. My actions led to the death of Lily, and she was tortured in Aeonar for a decade because of me.’

Clutching his face in his pale hands Jowan sobbed wildly, and I found myself looking upon the man with overwhelming pity. He was broken just like the rest of us. Jowan was someone who had performed terrible acts, just like the rest of us. Perhaps it was not quite the same, but we all had copious amounts of blood on our hands that should not have been there.

Quietly I shuffled down to sit beside the mage on the stone floor. More than a little ashamed of my actions, all I could do was offer what sympathy I had. A blank expression, perhaps a little in shock myself, I let the mage cry bitterly as I placed a hesitant hand on his knee. He looked up in surprise, startled by my touch, but did not pull away.

‘Jowan you may be guilty of wretched and unforgiveable acts, but you are not an abomination.’ I murmured, casting my eyes onto the ground before me.

How could I judge Jowan when he was like me? A mage whose life had gone horribly, horribly wrong. A life of mistreatment bestowed by the cruel people surrounding us, and through no fault of our own. What actions occurred from these terrible experiences was our own choice, and yet I could not help but feel the fault also lay at the hand of the abusers.

Jowan turned to me, his sad black eyes looking miserably into mine. ‘Then what am I?’ he whispered.

I shook my head, knowing it was impossible to say. Was he the good willed Athalwolf we all knew? Or was he the blood mage from former days? I couldn’t answer that question. One thing that appeared evident was the remorse of Jowan. Indeed he looked like a man completely broken and defeated. If an evil malificar lurked within, it would have been a sorry sight and nothing more.

‘I don’t know what you are…Jowan.’. I hesitated, looking at the man before me ‘Who are any of us? No one can really know the answer to that except for oneself.’. Sighing, I rested my head against the wall, looking back to a sleeping Michel before casting my eyes to the worn stones in front of me once more. ‘Get someone to call you worthless and pathetic day in day out and soon you will start believing it. At least that was the way I found things to be. You became what the templars told you that you were. What hope did you have in being anything else?’

‘You are too compassionate and although that serves as my comfort, I fear it will one day be your undoing.’ replied Jowan, throwing me a sad smile.

Rolling my eyes to my companion, I chuckled. ‘I’ve heard that before. Despite my disdain for humanity, I like to see the good in people when they are not looking my way.’

‘An optimistic misanthrope?’ suggested Jowan with a small a curl on his lip.

‘Something like that.’ I sighed.

Jowan drew a deep breath, resting back against the wall. He seemed more at ease, although I could tell the thoughts that consumed his mind were not so serene. ‘My parents abandoned me on the steps of the Chantry when I was five.’ Jowan informed me quietly ‘Abomination.’. The mage shook his head in disbelief, his eyes dancing with hurt and disdain ‘That was what my mother called me as a child. Not Jowan…no never Jowan. And I was forbidden to call her mother. In her eyes, I was not even her child.’

‘That is horrible.’ I replied, shaking my head in disgust ‘And your father?’

Jowan subconsciously touched his cheek upon hearing the question. ‘A brute with a heavy back hand.’ he muttered ‘Always drunk and using his fist to make him feel bigger, especially when it came to a child possessing magic.’

‘Although not similar in details, I fear we share a similar upbringing to some extent.’ I observed darkly ‘My mother and father were not interested in being parents to a mage. I was raised by the serving staff, always tagging along with one of the maids as they washed the linen and dusted the ornaments in the manor. At night my parents would sit in the parlour and I was not permitted to sit with them. I was sent to the Ostwick Tower when I was ten.’

‘Then they did not deserve you.’ replied Jowan sharply, his face filled with empathy as he nodded at me ‘Do you not see why I was desperate to create an Order of Mages? To have a place where children like us could grow up feeling loved and accepted in the world. Safe and surrounded by people that did not tell them they were disgusting and not worthy of life.’. His black eyes held mine, serious and solemn. ‘Life for me did not improve under the care of the faithful. I was raised in the Chantry by strict and pious sisters who referred to me as the Maker’s Fallen. They starved me often, claiming that to fast was to cleanse the soul. They would beat me. Chastise me. In winter I was refused blankets. Apparently I was to do endure hardship to atone for my sins. Endless hours each day I was forced to pray on the hard wooden floor of my barren room and ask for forgiveness. I was a child, Ophelia. Who does that to a child? There was no time for play or affection, only punishments bestowed to a boy that did not know what he had done to make the Maker so very angry with him.’

Looking sadly at my companion, I could see his story being similar to a lot of mages. It was shameful.

‘I am so very sorry Jowan.’ I murmured.

Jowan nodded bitterly ‘When it was time for me to be sent to the Ferelden Circle I was actually happy and hopeful for better days ahead. No greater fool was there in all of Thedas, eh? From the moment I entered the Kinloch Hold I was beaten and bullied by the templars. I had not a skerrick of self confidence in me and they could smell it like a pack of blood thirsty mabaris. I had no chance to fend them off. Looking back, I had no chance at anything.’

Growing quiet in a moment of uneasiness, I knew I needed to ask the question. ‘Was Cullen one of the templars who mistreated you?’ I whispered.

‘Define mistreated.’ scoffed Jowan, finally shaking head in reply. ‘Besides, Cullen did not join us at the Kinloch Hold until I was seventeen or so. He never gave me any grief, perhaps because of my friendship with Sierra. Whether Cullen knew his fellow templars were mistreating the mages, I do not know. Perhaps I do not want to know…not now that I have to work alongside the man.’

‘But Cullen did do something?’ I asked suspiciously, noticing the dark expression on Jowan’s face at the mention of Cullen ‘What did he do?’

Jowan looked utterly miserable. ‘I tried to escape the Kinloch Hold with a Chantry initiate named Lily.’ replied the mage ‘We were caught before we could escape and were surrounded by templars. To my everlasting regret I panicked and cast blood magic in front of everyone.’

‘Oh.’ I replied, shifting uneasily.

Jowan breathed in deeply ‘Lily refused to flee with me when she witnessed the magic I had performed. She decided to face the consequences of her actions rather than run off with a malificar. Knight-Commander Greagoir sentenced her to Aeonar as punishment for her involvement with me. When Cullen found me in the hut at base of the mountain he told me that he had seen Lily in Aeonar. He…he said that he had witnessed her being tortured there. She was tortured for ten years before she died. The templars did disgusting things that I dare not entertain and yet my mind always wanders to them.’. Noticing my confused expression, Jowan frowned ‘Do you not see? Cullen knew about Lily and he did nothing. What sort of man lets an innocent woman be tortured for that many years and does nothing?’

Hesitating, I was at a loss for words. Could Cullen really have condoned her torture? What benefit did Jowan have to gain if it were not true? I had only heard of whispers of Aeonar, every mage had, but the prison held a reputation of being frightfully ominous. All mages were fearful of that place. A place a thousand times worse than any Circle Tower, where templars kept our kind in cages and inflicted vile acts of excruciating punishment.

‘Lily died ten years after being tortured there.’ continued Jowan, his voice cracking under the words as tears welled in his eyes ‘The light of my life extinguished under the brutal hands of the Templar Order. Every time I think about her my heart aches. I know there is nothing I can do now. When I could have done something…I did not know. Ophelia do you not see? I don’t want to be here anymore.’

Wrapping my arm around Jowan, I pulled him to me as he cried into my shoulder. I was holding back my own tears, which welled in my moist eyes.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Jowan sobbed ‘I have let you all down.’

‘I forgive you Jowan.’ I murmured sadly ‘I’m so sorry for Lily and…’. Pausing, I threw a look to my sad companion ‘...and for Sierra.’

‘Was her death right or wrong, even now I cannot say.’ replied Jowan, wiping his eyes hastily ‘Sierra was consumed with hate, as was I. She told me of her plans to wage a war with the Chantry. It was her intention to destroy the Order of Grey Wardens as revenge for conscripting her all those years ago.’

‘That is why she wanted Leliana and Cassandra stabbed with Grey Warden Blades.’ I remarked, suddenly understanding why they had been targeted.

‘Yes.’ affirmed Jowan, casting his eyes down in shame ‘I did not believe in her cause but she threatened to destroy my own. To destroy the one thing that gave me meaning. My work in the Mage Order. Now I am pushed into another role I have no desire to be apart of. I was happy mentoring the mages in Skyhold. Now I am about to be the cursed Left Hand to the Divine.’. Jowan looked fearfully to me ‘You know what is expected of the Left Hand. How can I ever atone for what I have done when Leliana expects me to put my darker skills to use? My identity will be hidden from all except the highest ranking in the Chantry. They will use me to perform assassinations, and whatever blemished acts they do no dare perform themselves.’

‘You were forced into the role.’ I observed darkly ‘Leliana will never let you go. Trust me, it seems to be somewhat of a tradition of hers.’

‘I want to serve the Mage Order.’ replied Jowan adamantly ‘If the Maker resurrected me, he was a fool to think I would turn my back on the mages. I am the mages of Thedas, I will not abandon them as long as I breathe.’

It was evident that the Mage Order meant everything to Jowan, just as it had to Athalwolf. At that moment I knew he was not the evil malificar that everyone had made him out to be. In my heart Jowan and I were of the same mould. Two mages that were rejected in an unforgiving world. Our inability to appreciate our own self-worth was shocking considering all that we had accomplished, and yet I suspected that was the reason he and I pushed ourselves to achieve greater things. We always sought the approval that would never be obtained. An approval that would never be bestowed by the non-mages of this world. That was why we needed to create a Mage Order. It was the promise of a family that we and so many alike would never have by blood.

That was why we needed to continue what we had begun. The creation of the Mage Order.

In my heart I had to believe that the man beside me was the Athalwolf I had grown to respect and call a good friend. Were he a monster and nothing more, I could easily have dismissed the man. Yet in Jowan I saw pieces of me, and I knew that once again nothing was black and white. Good and evil. Light and dark.

In the end, we were one and the same.

A stirring sounded from the bed nearby, and Jowan and I beheld Michel’s eyes starting to flutter.

Jowan sighed in relief, as if his concerns were now put to rest. ‘I will leave you now.’ he remarked quietly ‘It is better that Michel does not see me at present, I would not wish to…impede his recovery.’

I threw my companion a small nod and smile, which he reciprocated before quickly departing the room. So strange was this stranger before me and yet Jowan held a friendly disposition that I found reassuring. I hoped it was more than skin deep.

Brushing the dirt off my knees I rushed over to the bed and was greeted by a pair of blue eyes blinking up at me. The ex-chevalier looked pale, but the life had returned to his complexion. A faint smile drew to his lips as he noticed me beaming down at him.

‘Are you okay?’ murmured Michel, his voice faint.

I embraced the man tightly as he wrapped his arms around me with a wince. My eyes red and filled with tears, I finally pulled myself from the Orlesian and noticed he was chuckling at me.

‘You almost died and you ask if I am okay.’ I playfully chastised, wiping the tears from my eyes ‘Thank you for coming back to me.’

Michel closed his eyes, as if recalling the ambush in his mind. ‘I saw that man standing before you about to lay his final blow. A moment later and I would have failed you. A moment later and you would have been dead.’

‘You saved me,’ I replied fervently ‘whilst nearly dying yourself mind you. What you did was the opposite of failing me. Michel, I owe you my life. Thank you….thank you. I owe you everything.’

Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his warm cheek and planted a kiss on his smooth skin. It reminded me of the short time when I used to lay beside the Orlesian each night and had kissed that cheek just as affectionately. Something about that memory made me sad, and I found myself lingering by his jaw until I was stirred from my thoughts. Michel’s strong fingers laced through my crumpled brown hair, and he looked up at me with smiling eyes.

‘You are most welcome.’ he murmured, running his hands to cusp my cheeks ‘Just promise me next time you will ride when I tell you to.’

Unable to tear my eyes from his, I held his intense gaze ‘I couldn’t leave you.’

‘Now you know how I feel.’ murmured Michel, a knowing look on his graceful face.

The knight ran his finger against my cheek and I felt my skin burning at his touch.

Our moment was interrupted as the low blare of the keep’s horn sounded from outside the door. A long and low hum that vibrated the room and made the glass poultices rattle against each other. Cries from a few soldiers could be heard in-between the steady rumble of the horn, and we both exchanged confused looks. Michel began to sit up, and I drew up a hand to stop him.

‘You need to rest.’ I ordered ‘I’ll go and see.’

‘Do not worry, it not the horn for enemies approaching. That horn has a higher tone.’ observed Michel, settling back down ‘It is most likely official guests arriving.’

Groaning, I made my way to the door. Michel chuckled, throwing me a wave as I departed the room.

Rushing outside into the middle courtyard of the Griffon Wing Keep, I cast my eyes around to an isolated space. Most of the soldiers appeared to be up on the battlements and looking over the keep’s walls, and so I too ascended the steps to get a view of what lay beyond the wall. Muffled yelling could be heard, and as I scaled onto the wall the voice became clear.

‘CULLEN!!!’ roared a voice from the other side of the wall ‘Commander Cullen!!!! OPEN THE GATES! You will come and speak with me!’

Recognising the familiar Ferelden voice I fearfully leant over the edge of the parapet to see Alistair Theirin on horseback, facing the keep. Even with the distance between us I could see how furious the Warden-Commander was. There were ten Grey Wardens with him, all remaining slightly behind their leader and sitting silently on their horses. Waiting patiently in the hot sun while their Warden-Commander yelled up to the soldiers on the walls.

Turning my eyes back to the soldiers surrounding me, I noticed Cullen and Leliana standing further along the battlements. Brushing past the men and women, I hurriedly made my way to the Commander and Spymaster. Cullen noticed me approach and threw me a silent nod, while Leliana continued to hold her attention on Alistair outside the keep’s walls.

‘Cullen, open the gates damn you!’ roared Alistair, his voice echoing across the empty plains ‘You and I will have words. You cannot avoid me forever.’. The Warden-Commander rode alongside the keep’s wall, looking up furiously at the sea of leering faces. ‘As the Maker is my witness I will stay out here all day and night until you answer me. NOW OPEN DAMN THE GATES!’

‘Then he will be waiting a long time.’ observed Leliana coldly, crossing her arms as she glared down at the Warden-Commander ‘What does he hope to achieve by creating this shameless spectacle?’

‘Are you going to talk to him?’ I asked precariously, looking over the parapet once more ‘Surely we can placate this situation if we just opened the gates and spoke to Alistair.’

‘Impossible.’ remarked Cullen dryly, leaning back against the stone wall behind him ‘We cannot acknowledge this outburst, nor can we condone it.’

‘Leliana, Cullen-’ I began before being interrupted. Alistair had recommenced shouting again, demanding to be let in. ‘Listen to him.’ I appealed ‘He knows what has happened.’

‘He knows nothing.’ whispered Leliana sharply, throwing a stern glance at me ‘Do us the courtesy of lowering your voice lest he does begin to know something.’

No soldiers could hear us, yet it was apparent Leliana was worried that word would spread of Cullen’s involvement in Sierra’s disappearance. The Spymaster turned her head to look back to Cullen. Holding a stern look on his face the Commander stared out onto the horizon as Alistair continued to shout.

‘Inquisitor, do not entertain those thoughts in your mind.’ warned Leliana, almost accusingly ‘The moment you say anything to Alistair will be the moment you start a war with the Grey Wardens. Do you want that?’

‘Alistair lost someone he loved, he only wants to know where Sierra is.’ I replied shortly ‘Of course he knows who is behind this. We bloody rode in from across the desert and demanded to interrogate Sierra over your death. A day later she is missing. Alistair would have to be the biggest fool in Thedas not to realise we were involved here. For pities sake let us give him answers. We owe him that much.’

‘Ophelia think what Alistair would do if he knew?’ remarked Cullen sternly ‘Leliana is right, we cannot let even one whisper of our involvement reach Alistair’s ears. I am sorry, we cannot talk to Alistair about this or allow him to challenge us so openly.’

Surely Cullen wasn’t suggesting what I thought he was. ‘Don’t tell me you seek repercussion for his actions here today?’ The man is in the right! You were involved!’

‘Lower your voice?’ hissed Leliana dangerously, darting her eyes towards a nearby group of soldiers ‘This is not the place to argue such things. It may seem unjust to you, but it is necessary.’

‘I don’t give a fuck Leliana.’ I snapped back ‘This here is a man we owe more respect than we are showing him right now. Alistair is one of us and yet we bar the gates to him as if he were an enemy? Think of what this is showing to our people in the Inquisition? It is disrespectful to say the least.’

‘Ophelia, this is about the Inquisition.’ argued Cullen ‘You are perfectly right, Alistair did not deserve this. It was not his fault that his significant other was a harpy in disguise. However in this case our lips must remain shut. Alistair will always suspect us but nothing more can ever come of it. Were he to know, we would all be at great risk. We must show the Inquisition our strength in this matter. The gates remain shut. I wish it could be otherwise.’

‘Something perhaps you should have considered before you ran a blade through Sierra.’ I muttered under my breath.

Leliana scoffed at my remark, throwing glare at Cullen. ‘She will be our undoing, mark my words.’ warned the Spymaster.

‘For wanting to be honest.’ I retorted angrily ‘Perhaps you should try the same one of these days? Or is-’

‘Ophelia.’ interjected Cullen, cutting me off ‘Promise us you will agree to leave this.’

Throwing the pair a dirty look, I refused to respond.

‘Cullen, Jowan and I leave for Val Royeaux tomorrow.’ informed Leliana crisply ‘Can I leave you here and trust you will not start a war when we are gone?’

‘Don’t speak to me like I was a child. You may be Divine but the last time I checked I was Inquisitor.’ I replied darkly ‘I hold enough power to make decisions on my own.’

With elevated and amused eyebrows, the curl on the Spymaster’s lip began to widen.

‘My apologies Inquisitor.’ remarked Leliana mockingly ‘Perhaps you would like to see what powers the Divine holds?’

‘Leliana.’ warned Cullen, frowning at her in displeasure.

The ginger haired woman shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Fine Cullen, you control her then. Before she destroys everything we have been working for all these years. It has become quite the little habit of Ophelia’s these days.’

Sighing heavily, Cullen turned to look at me ‘Ophelia you must promise us you will not say a word to Alistair. In fact we would have you stay within the keep until we return. There is no knowing what the man is capable of at the moment. Grief likes to entertain bloody vengeance.’

‘You are leaving tomorrow then?’ I observed dryly ‘You only just returned.’

‘We are needed in Val Royeaux.’ interrupted Leliana ‘The Left and the Right Hand must be inducted at the Grand Cathedral.’

Feeling concern for Michel in his current state, I felt uneasy that Jowan was leaving so soon. ‘What about Michel? You cannot leave him when we have no other healers?’

‘Jowan just informed me Michel’s temperature has settled and he has regained consciousness.’ replied Leliana ‘I am certain he will be fine.’. Running her eyes in amusement across my stony face, she added in a mocking tone ‘I am also certain you will be able to tend to Michel in Jowan’s absence.’. Turning to Cullen, Leliana placed her hand on his arm with a smile ‘The faithful are about to herald the induction of their new head Knight-Commander of the Templar Order and Right Hand to the Divine. It will be magnificent occasion for all to bear witness.’

Cullen patted Leliana’s arm in appreciation before turning away, and making his way to my side. A small smirk on her face remained as Leliana turned to the nearby soldiers, leaving Cullen and I somewhat alone to talk amongst ourselves.

‘So you’re off again.’ I remarked bitterly, crossing my arms in front of the tall man.

Cullen revealed a fond smile, sweeping the hair from my face. ‘You’re not going to make this easy for me are you? Trust me when I say the last place I wish to go is the Grand Cathedral to be anointed with grimy oil and smudged with incense for hours while I am bored senseless with the chanting of canticles that have a more tedious plot than one of Varric’s stories.’

The Commander raised a cynical brow but I refused to laugh.

‘You’re an important man these days, don’t forget about me.’ I muttered.

‘Impossible.’ grinned Cullen, placing a lingered kiss on my cheek. ‘No one pouts quite as well as you do, how could I forget that? Now Leliana and I have business to attend to, but I will see you tonight. Until then stay safe and within these walls. Promise me.’

‘Fine.’ I replied stiffly.

With a wink, Cullen descended the stairs with Leliana following on. My eyes trailed the duo across the courtyard but turned away soon after as Alistair’s furious yelling sounded across the plains once more.


	54. What Lies Beneath

A day is never complete without attending to official Inquisition matters, and it appeared even at the Griffon Wing Keep I was unable to escape it. With Cassandra recovering from her injuries and Leliana busy with other matter, a messenger from Skyhold had travelled to the Griffon Wing Keep with numerous pressing documents and correspondence that could not be ignored. Begrudgingly I spent the better half of the day locked in a study tiredly traipsing over inquiries, offers and requests of aid throughout Thedas. When I finally I ran out of red wax for the Inquisition seal, a stick that had been new and unused at the beginning of that day, I knew it was time to call it quits.

Sufficed to say nightfall was most welcomed.

The return of Leliana back into the daily routine reminded me of happier days when she had been absent. Once again a wave of guilt came over me. However during that afternoon, by the third or fourth time I had passed Leliana and Cullen in Rylen’s study as they entertained official Chantry business, the wave had returned to sea and my guilty conscience was no more.

It was evident what was happening. I was on the outside and the divide would only get worse.

Arriving at my chambers late that night I discovered Cullen was nowhere to be found. The cold, hard wax candles in the lanterns revealed that they had not been recently lit, and most likely Cullen had not been in here since this morning. Unwilling to leave it at that I closed the door firmly and set off into the night. Wherever Cullen was, I needed to ensure Leliana was not.

After interrogating several soldiers who were enthralled in a game of Wicked Grace, I was hastily pointed in the direction of the barracks and informed that Cullen had last been seen in the hot springs beneath the keep. A hidden gem in such a place, the stairs from the barracks in the Griffon Wing Keep led right down to an enclosed cave of hot springs. During the cold nights in the desert, the springs were a welcome treat to the sore and aching muscles of the soldiers.

Throwing a brief nod to several men and women in the barracks, who were unenthusiastically going over the work roster for the week, I headed swiftly towards the blue stone spiral staircase leading down into the cave. Lit beacons were secured to the grey cobbled walls, shining light on the way down as I descended the never-ending spiralling steps. Echoing footsteps sounded into the large cavern below and my eyes met a glowing blue cave lit with beeswax candles. There was a large pebble shaped pool in the centre of the cave, and several smaller pools surrounding, each steaming and leaving an enchanting mist that covered the ground like a cloud.

‘Cullen?’ I called out hesitantly, looking around at the hazy cave ‘Are you down here?’

Muffled voices sounded to the far left, yet I could not see anything through the mist.

‘Well you might as well confess your love for me now, she’s caught us out.’ remarked an amused voice, chuckling to themselves.

‘Maker’s Breath.’ muttered another voice. One that sounded like distinctly like Cullen’s.

Narrowing my eyes I could see the faint outline of two people sitting in the smaller steaming spring pool at the far side of the cave.

‘Ophelia we’re over here.’ called out Cullen ‘Keep following directly along the wall. It’s too foggy in this damn cave, watch out or you’ll fall in if you’re not careful.’

Edging my way around, narrowly avoiding the various pools water, I finally approached the spring where the voices had originated from. As the mist parted I spotted Cullen and Rylen sitting in the pool with water up to their bare torsos. Both men revealed their fair share of bruises, scratches and white scars on their toned chests as they floated in the hot springs, soaking in the warm water.

Raising an eyebrow, I crossed my arms in pretend disapproval. ‘So this is what we’re paying our Commanders to do these days?’

Rylen chuckled, lifting his hands in defence ‘It was Commander Cullen’s idea to discuss business down here. Trust me on this one.’

Cullen laughed, his rich voice echoing in the cave. ‘Never trust a man that says trust me.’

‘Probably good advice there.’ mused Rylen. Waving his hand, he motioned for me to enter the pool. ‘Ophelia come in and soak with us. The water is spectacular at this time of day. Full of unique minerals and salts only found in the desert here. I’m told they are very good for your skin.’

‘Oh that’s okay,’ I replied nonchalantly, or at least trying to be ‘I was just looking for Cullen.’

Running his hand through his wet sandy hair, Cullen threw a bemused look at Rylen ‘That’s your cue to leave.’

‘No not at all.’ I responded quickly, feeling more than a little guilty of traipsing half way across the keep suspecting Cullen of being with Leliana. ‘Cullen is here, my curiosity is sated…so I’m off to bed. It’s been a long day.’

‘Speaking of long days, I’m going to head in myself.’ agreed Rylen, stretching out his arms in a triangle behind his back ‘A warm bed and a cup of tea will work a treat after today’s chaos.’

Rylen stood up from the spring, the water rushing off him as he presented himself stark naked, and I quickly averted my eyes as Cullen scoffed at his friend.

‘Bloody hell man, I didn’t say show the Inquisitor your goods!’ exclaimed Cullen in amusement.

‘Well there was no other way of departing without such grand revelations.’ replied Rylen pleasantly as he passed by me ‘My apologies Ophelia, I hope I have not offended.’

‘Not at all, quite the opposite.’ I replied mischievously, and Rylen laughed boisterously in reply.

‘You hear that Cullen?’ yelled back Rylen from the stairs ‘I am irresistible.’

Cullen waved him off with a groan ‘Be gone with you.’. Turning his amused amber eyes back to me, the Commander rolled his eyes at me. ‘Don’t encourage the man, I’ll never hear the end of it now. It was bad enough back in Kirkwall having to see him swagger about as the ladies from Hightown flocked to him whenever we passed by.’

‘Rylen?’ I remarked in amusement ‘A ladies man is he?’. While handsome with his brown hair and chocolate eyes, and possessing a strong Starkhaven accent, the Commander had always appeared very reserved and straight-laced. It was hard to imagine him possessing even an inkling of flirtatiousness.

‘You’re surprised?’ mused Cullen ‘He can talk the ear off a brass monkey!’

Grinning at the imagery, I shrugged. ‘Well yes he’s always had the gift of the gab, but Rylen always seemed somewhat modest, well-mannered and gentleman-like.’

‘Which he uses all to his advantage.’ chuckled Cullen ‘Give Rylen the right setting and he woes women just like our dear Maister of Blades. The man was also destined to be a chevalier or love-sick bard.’

Throwing the Commander a smirk, I leered at him as he remained soaking in the spring. With wet skin, hair and a flush to his cheeks from the heat, the Commander was looking quite delectable.

‘So here you are, naked and alone in the dark.’ I observed pleasantly.

‘Who said I’m naked?’ teased Cullen, rubbing the muscles near the base of his neck. A serious expression, one of desire and lust, fell across the templar’s face as he added in low and sultry voice ‘Come in and find out, if it pleases you?’

Revealing a suggestive raised eyebrow, the Commander remained smirking in the water as I weighed up the proposal.

‘Fine.’ I muttered ‘The water does look nice.’

The Commander chuckled, splashing me in reply.

Undressing by the side of the pool, I threw the man a grin every now and then as my silhouette danced against the wall of the cave. Dipping half my foot in the water, I was a surprise at how welcoming the warmth of the water felt. My feet met the smooth rock floor of the spring pool and I melted into the water with a sigh.

Cullen extended his hand through the warm ripples of water, an alluring smile on his chiselled jaw, and I accepted as he pulled me towards where he was sitting on a submerged stone seat. Beads of water coated the templar’s chest and arms, glistening on his tanned muscles. The Commander’s arms looked larger semi-submerged in the water, and were bulging before me. Playfully I gave them a squeeze and Cullen grinned back at me, flexing his arms to give me a further thrill.

‘I know your weakness.’ he teased, flashing me a grin before disappearing under the water. A moment later he emerged in a surge of water rising, flicking back his hair as he moved back to the stone seat.

Cullen’s sandy hair was wet, and hung down to the base of his neck. With an amused smile, I ran my fingers through the wet strands.

‘Without your curls and waves, you actually have rather long locks these days.’ I observed ‘When I first met you it was always so short and neat.’

‘An annoying habit I carried on from former days in the Order.’ muttered Cullen, running his hands through the wet strands ‘Our Knight-Commander used to always say a tidy room is a tidy mind, and short neat hair will keep you out of trouble.’

‘Didn’t seem to work for you?’ I teased, relishing the feel of his skin under the water. It was soft and silky. Sensual. My fingers met his lower abdomen and Cullen drew me closer to him.

‘Maker’s Breath you have no idea.’ he smirked. The Commander’s hands also explored under the water, a soft touch on my hips and a fondle of my breasts. Playful fingers running down my back, teasing me and pulling me closer. ‘The first time you met the respectable Commander of the Inquisition little did you know behind his sensible hair all he wanted to do was ravish you senseless.’

Splashing him, Cullen grinned deviously in reply.

‘Well sufficed to say you were never destined to become a love-struck bard with a mouth like that.’ I chortled.

‘I love you,’ smirked Cullen ‘it also just happened that I fancied you a bit scrummy.’

‘Well perhaps I entertained similar thoughts.’ I replied slyly ‘Ever wonder why I kept on checking in to see how the recruits were doing?’

The Commander raised a brow, as if he already knew.

‘What gave it away?’ I asked in surprise ‘Surely the Inquisitor needs to know that sort of information.’

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head. ‘No, it wasn’t that. It was the topic of conversation you would hold.’ he replied in amusement ‘No person in their right mind asks a templar to tell them about their former days of training and what it was like to be templar in Kirkwall and Ferelden. No, I knew you were either out of your mind or had taken a fancy for me.’

‘And yet you never did anything about it?’ I retorted in mocking disgust ‘You utter bastard.’

The templar leant forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips before drawing back to look at me. ‘I wanted to.’ he whispered.

A droplet of water ran down Cullen scar that ran diagonal from the bottom right side of his cheek right down through his lip. Moving my lips to it, I ran my tongue along his scar and lapped up the drop.

‘It’s fading.’ I murmured, running my fingers across the mark.

Cullen shrugged ‘One of many, only to be replaced with many more no doubt.’. Noticing my face grow dark upon hearing those words, he placed a kiss on my forehead. ‘Shhhh.’ Cullen murmured ‘I am not going anywhere.’

Moving his legs apart, Cullen pulled me to sit with my back resting against his chest, and we both looked out across the glowing misty cave. It was quiet and peaceful, and I could feel the thudding of his heart resonating through my body.

‘One perfect moment alone together.’ whispered Cullen, bringing his lips to my neck ‘Away from the world and all its troubles.’. The templar placed several kisses up and down my neck, causing me to rub my body back against his, begging for more. ‘If I had to be honest, the worst part in Haven was seeing you because it gave me a small taste of what I could never have.’. Cullen ran his hands across my brown hair, sweeping it back as he planted more kisses along the other side of my neck. ‘That thrill of being close to you, if only to momentarily discuss some dreary matter regarding the Hinterlands. I did not care one jot about what task was at hand, only that flighty feeling of anticipation when you would look over to me and I would catch your eye. You didn’t always let me linger there, but sometimes we shared several moments where neither of us would turn away.’

‘A moment when time itself stood still.’ I murmured fondly.

Cullen wrapped his arms affectionately around my waist ‘That was my sanctuary, and that was my everlasting torture.’

Turning my head I was greeted by a sensual pair of amber eyes. Suddenly the furious desire of a templar engulfed me with his hungry lips. The warm water lapped against our naked bodies as Cullen held me close against his firm torso, running his hands along my breasts and gently cupping them. Massaging them in the warm water, his large fingers pinching at my nipples, holding them at a point and rolling them gentle between his digits. Moaning at his ministrations, I felt my knees growing weak and an aching burning within. The templar continued to bestow deeper and deeper kisses, and I momentarily abandoned any fear of someone intruding on us. It had past the point of caring. We were drowning, and yet we were flying as we surrendered to our lust for each other.

Cullen adjusted himself from behind me and I could feel the hardness of his member prodding at the base of my spine. A thick and delightful reminder of my partner’s arousal. The templar’s firm hands trailed further down my body, running along my belly and down to massage my thighs. Pawing deeply against my soft flesh, Cullen’s wicked fingers met my intimate parts and began to stroke the hidden pearl as he continued to kiss my neck and shoulders. My moans grew louder in the quietude of the cavern, and Cullen showed no sign of stopping.

The templar’s full lips hovered over mine as I gasped and writhed. His amber eyes looking into mine, a devious smile as he continued to play with me. My mouth reached desperately for his, but the templar teasingly refused as he brushed his lips lightly against mine. A delighted diabolical smile on his lips told me he was enjoying his game. The Commander’s fingers continued to stimulate me, now moving deeper inside me as he finally allowed our lips collide. Running my hands along his rugged jaw, I tilted my head backwards and enjoyed the sensual kiss from the templar. Cullen tasted so sweet and intoxicating, and we furiously fell into passionate kiss after passionate kiss.

Reaching around I felt for the throbbing prod at my back, and my hands wrapped around Cullen’s silky, rock hard pikestaff. Somewhat buoyant under the water, I grinned as my hand moved up and down his bouncing dick as Cullen rested back against the edge of the pool. His abdomen tightened, a rippled core that glistened beneath the water, as my grip grew firmer on his large cock. One hand teased him with drawn out strokes along his shaft, while my other massaged his exquisitely delectable ball sack. It was perfectly erotic to see the templar writhe under my touch as I massaged him. A small moan escaped his lips every now and then, and as his arousal grew he would run his hands through his hair as if in agony. My thumb rubbed the smooth head of his cock before running down his length, over and over again until the Commander began to tilt his neck back, exposing his throat and succumbing to his desire. His breathing grew uneven, and his hips rose higher.

‘Climb on me.’ murmured Cullen, a mischievous glint in his eye as he brought his head back to look at me.

My eyes uncertainly trailed to the stairs in the distance. ‘Did you forget there are half a dozen soldiers above that could come down here?’

‘Possibly, but that would make it all the more interesting don’t you think?’ replied Cullen deviously. The Commander grinned at my unconvinced look. ‘They are all eager to get a meal and get as far away from the barracks as they can. Trust me, no one should bother us.’

‘Trust me he says?’ I teased.

‘Surely you should know better.’ replied Cullen huskily, pulling my hips towards him.

Straddling Cullen’s thighs, his member stood erect and ready under the water. A glistening jewel of the springs. Wrapping his hand around his cock, the templar slowly penetrated in an exquisite drawn out manner. Slow inch by inch, Cullen eased himself up, pushing his thick girth deeper and deeper. A shiver of breathless moans escaped the templar’s lips as he relished that first moment of intimacy as he pushed himself deep, finished with a husky grunt when he reached his hilt. Placing his hands on my hips, he began to lift me up and down on his iron hard cock, the water being used to his rhythmic advantage.

A small moan of pleasure escaped Cullen’s lips as he began fucking, thrusting up as he pulled me down on his hard cock. The water splashed about us, spilling over the sides of the pool as our momentum increased. The once calm waters now surging like a storm on an ocean, the waves growing higher and our moans growing louder. The angle was deep and I cried out in pleasure on every impalement, falling over his shoulders and surrendering to what Cullen did best.

The templar’s lips ran along my nipples, playfully biting and sucking as I ran my hands through his hair. He looked up to me, and we both fell into each other’s eyes, refusing to look away. Surrounded in steam and sweat, mist and shadow, the templar bucking his hips up on every deep stroke. A cry through the cavern sounded, one coming through my lips, as Cullen suddenly wrapped his hands around my torso and sated his desire in a series of several hard and heavy thrusts. My eyes grew hazy as the euphoria overcame me, filling me and erupting as I came hard. A final strong thrust of Cullen’s hips, I felt his abdomen harden as he held me firm against him, releasing his seed deep in a series of small groans. The water rose and rose before waves crashed, or so if felt, and we both moaned in exquisite release. A breathless shudder parted our lips before falling into each other’s arms, sealing our union in a tender kiss.

Cullen held me against him as he settled back into the seat, a more than content smile on his lips. Nuzzling my head in the nook of his neck, I felt myself lulling to sleep in the warmth of the aftermath.

‘Must you go tomorrow?’ I murmured.

Placing a kiss on the top of my head, Cullen held his lips there for a few seconds before pulling away. ‘Ophelia you know where I would rather be.’ he replied gently ‘After everything that has happened recently my place should be here with you. I will never forgive myself for what happened to you during that ambush…’

The templar grew quiet. It was more than obvious that he blamed himself for putting me in danger and had been suffering ever since.

Turning around, I noticed his sad eyes looking down at me.

‘You weren’t to know.’ I reassured him gently ‘None of us knew what we were riding into that day.’

‘Michel saved your life and I am indebted to him.’ replied Cullen ‘However it should have been me. I was so blinded by my hatred that I failed to protect you.’

Cupping his rugged jaw, I placed a soft kiss on it. ‘You forget I demanded to come along with you. You told me to stay behind. You told me to leave if there was the slightest sign of danger.’

The Commander sighed. ‘You never were good at following orders, were you? I already knew that about you and yet I still allowed you to risk your life. It was a mistake that could have cost me dearly.’

I looked seriously at the man, biting my bottom lip as I mulled over my own concerns.

‘What is it?’ frowned Cullen.

‘Cullen I beg you stay and let us settle things with Alistair.’ I appealed ‘Surely you can meet up with Leliana a few days later? Let us fix this before it gets worse.’

Cullen looked weary, his shoulders growing heavy. ‘Please Ophelia let us speak of something, anything, other that Alistair or Leliana. I leave tomorrow and would wish one fond memory with you that isn’t spent discussing other people.’

‘Fine...’ I replied sharply, if not a little hurt. 

Cullen sighed, closing his eyes as he soaked in the water. ‘Thank you.’

‘…but let me just say one thing.’ I added quickly. Cullen muttered something under his breath as I held up my hand. ‘Just one thing and that is it. If you just spoke to Alistair before you left-.’

‘No.’ answered Cullen sternly, flashing his amber eyes to me. He looked more than a little determined now.

‘He will not go away Cullen.’ I warned.

The Commander was about to reply a more heated response, however his attention was diverted before he got the chance.

‘Cullen?’ called out a female voice from the stairs ‘Cullen? It’s me. Are you in the springs?’

My eyes narrowed as the footsteps continued to descend the staircase.

‘Leliana?’ called back Cullen ‘I’m in the springs with Ophelia. Is something the matter?’

The footsteps paused, and it was apparent that Leliana had stopped short in her tracks.

‘There are some important matters I must speak to you about before we set off tomorrow.’ called out Leliana ‘I am afraid it cannot wait.’

‘Fine, give me a moment and I’ll be up.’ shouted back Cullen.

‘Meet me in my chambers, we can talk more privately there.’ added Leliana. The sound of her steps recommenced and sounded through the cave before softly fading away.

Throwing a dirty look at Cullen, he caught my eye and sighed.

‘That is hardly my fault.’ the templar replied wearily.

‘How about you tell her you are busy and you have the entire trip to Val Royeaux to discuss matters.’ I retorted dryly.

‘If Leliana says the matter is important then it is.’ replied Cullen, a little irritably ‘You are making more out of this than it is.’

I could see that I was losing any chance of appealing to the man as he rose from the water. ‘Cullen this is our last night together.’ I protested.

‘And I won’t be long.’ promised the Commander ‘Go warm our bed. I will see you in a moment.’

Cullen playfully tapped me on the head as he passed, unable to see my annoyed expression. Watching him ascend those stairs bare in flesh, I wondered if Leliana would be waiting to greet him at the top. A smirk on her face and some suggestive remark that Cullen would chuckle off before they went on their merry way.

I myself dressed alone, my silhouette now dancing in the murky shadows on the wall of the cave. Wet and miserable I ascended the stairs with a heavy heart, a jealous heart, and when finally I returned back at my chambers I decided to leave a candle burning. Cullen would return soon.

An hour dragged on as I lay waiting in bed, my eyes slowly drifting shut until I fell into a restless sleep. I awoke later to see the waxy melting candle still lit, burned down to a small stub.

Closing my eyes once more, I fell asleep.

Alone in my chambers.


	55. A Final Goodbye

Stretching out under the rough cotton bed sheets, the usual lack of space I awoke to did not greet me that morning. There was no warrior’s arm splayed out on my pillow, or muscular leg encroaching my side of the bed. Blinking my eyes open, I realised Cullen was not there.

A letter lying on the table was the only evidence that the templar had even returned to our room at all. One small note that I confess did not give me much comfort. It simple read:

_I am sorry, I did not have the heart to wake you. I kissed you goodbye in your dreams, and I hope to meet you there each night that I am away. Stay safe and inside the keep at all times until I return. _

_I love you._

_Cullen_

According to the guards on duty, Cullen, Leliana and Jowan had set off at sunrise. Left behind and denied a proper goodbye, I felt saddened and angry. Furious even. Cullen had promised to return to me that night, so what had happened? No matter how I tried to justify it, Leliana and Cullen’s relationship seemed strong as ever. Closer than ever. And I was beginning to wonder whether once intimately involved with someone if there was actually ever a possibility of returning to a platonic frame of mind.

Of course I knew the reason why I was annoyed with the pair. The Commander and the Spymaster had made a decision and overruled me in regards to Alistair, and I now suspected this would become a regular occurrence. In this particular occasion there was nothing I could do without disregarding the advice of the war council, although the numbers were somewhat lacking these days. Was it really a war council with just Cullen and Leliana?

Whether I liked to admit it or not, I was now a prisoner in the Griffon Wing Keep on strict orders that the gates were not to be opened until Leliana, Cullen and Jowan returned.

The first few days were spent sitting on crates and playing cards with the Inquisition soldiers. With no outside patrols to be scheduled as the gates remained shut, the men and women were growing as bored as I. Betting on the number of wyverns that passed the keep within the hour was a popular game, as was who could create the longest apple peel with their dagger. Desperate times meant desperate measures.

Michel’s recovery continued to go remarkably well, and within a few short days of regaining consciousness the ex-chevalier was up and about taking short walks around the keep. By the end of the week Michel was strong enough to recommence some of his duties and I decided at that point that he was well enough to learn the truth about Leliana and Jowan. To say the ex-chevalier was stunned was an understatement, and it took Rylen’s affirmation of the facts for Michel to actually believe me. Without witnessing either said party, I did not blame Michel’s doubt over Leliana and Jowan. What I proposed had happened at the ambush site and what had occurred afterwards went against any logic. Naturally Michel was furious that Jowan was being welcomed into the service of the Chantry to act as the Left Hand. He cursed in elvish, calling Jowan names I suspected were best left untranslated. I decided to keep silent in regards to Jowan’s continuing role in aiding me to establish the Mage Order, knowing Michel would never understand. Nor would I expect him to. In the end Rylen, Michel and I all agreed that the resurrection of Leliana and Jowan was miraculous but nevertheless unsettling. We left it at that.

At the end of the following week Michel had recommended training and mentoring the recruits. Jowan’s healing poultices were short of miraculous, and the ex-chevalier’s wound had mended extremely well. It was wonderful to him up and about once more, alive and breathing.

As I sat on the weather-worn wooden crates in the courtyard of the keep, I watched on as Michel swung his blade against Rylen’s. The pair were sparring, deadly serious faces that occasional broke out with massive grins when one or the other gained the upper hand. The crowd watched on in amusement, gathering around to witness the sport.

Michel halted in his steps after several clashes of steel and narrow dodges, turning back to the large group. ‘You are all soldiers of the Inquisition,’ he called out ‘and far be it from me to tell you how to fight your own battles. However…’

‘That is exactly what he is about to do.’ interjected Rylen, chuckling as Michel nodded in agreement.

‘Even the most seasoned of warriors carry bad habits.’ explained Michel, extending his elvish blade out and sweeping the empty air before him ‘It is better to know what you are doing wrong now then learn of it twenty years or so down the track.’

‘If a Venatori doesn’t run you through before then.’ added Rylen cynically, rubbing his ribs.

‘Maister we learnt sword fighting in our training back in Ferelden.’ observed a young soldier, somewhat dismissively ‘Most of us here have fought off more enemies in the last few months than any soldier in the Queen’s army back home would have done in five years.’

‘Ah so you are an expert then?’ observed Michel politely, throwing Rylen an amused brow. ‘Commander you should have told me I was wasting my time here.’

‘I would have but you Orlesian knights never listen I’m afraid.’ grinned Rylen, leaning his bastard sword against the crate as he sat down next to it. ‘Michel surely you should take this soldier’s expertise over your own? What’s twenty years of experience in the Order of Chevaliers compared to a few months wrangling wyverns in the Western Approach?’

The crowd chuckled at their Commander’s observations, a few soldiers pushing the shoulder of the soldier who spoke out.

Rylen grinned, enjoying the audience. ‘And besides,’ he added with a laugh ‘I hear the best warriors learn through their own experience and not through the advice of someone who holds the title of Maister of Blades.’

‘They also say a smile is more powerful than a sword, but there are some things even I’m unwilling to try in the heat of battle.’ retorted Michel with a dazzling smile.

Rylen burst out in hysterics, slapping his knee before pointing to the Orlesian ‘It would work for you Michel, it would work for you and you know it!’

Michel shrugged with an amused grin, turning once more to the entertained crowd. His smile faded into a look of seriousness, and he held the attention of every pair of eyes in the courtyard.

‘I was Champion to the Empress and at the head of my Order when I was a Chevalier and even I would not profess to know everything there is about sword fighting.’ acknowledged Michel sternly ‘However your Commander here is correct. I have twenty years of experience over most of you here. Maybe you will heed my lessons, or maybe you will walk away convinced you know better. The difference may mean life or death. Naturally that choice is in your hands.’

‘Although I’m bloody ordering you all to take notes and drill this into your thick skulls.’ added Rylen sternly, looking sharply at the man who had spoken out before ‘That includes you Lloyd.’

‘Sorry Commander.’ mumbled Lloyd, looking more than a little sheepish.

‘Fighting with a blade is simple if you stick to the basics.’ instructed Michel, swinging his blade swiftly before him in a figure of eight ‘First of all, you must always remember to keep mobile when fighting. As my mentor once told me, if you have two feet planted firm on the ground you are about to lose your footing altogether. Always be on the move.’

‘Cover and close in,’ added Rylen ‘that is how you dance to the tune of battle.’

Michel nodded ‘Yes it is not always about parrying. Do not go into the fight like one would go into a tournament. A lesson unfortunately not all soldiers learn until it is far too late. If you are blocking blow after blow as one would do in a duel, you are doing something wrong.’

‘Flashbacks of the Grand Tourney.’ muttered Rylen cynically, kicking his heels against the crate in displeasure.

Michel chuckled, raising an eyebrow to the Commander ‘Remind me again?’

‘An Antivan Merchant Prince called Frago Kazetch.’ replied Rylen with a roll of his eyes ‘Or was he a gold statue? Still not sure which one.’

The ex-chevalier clicked his fingers, suddenly remembering ‘Black hair, gold armour and fought like a Crow.’

‘Aye because he probably was a bloody Crow!’ scoffed Rylen ‘He had me blocking blow after blow, which finally brought me to my damn knees.’. Rylen pointed a sharp finger towards the soldiers ‘Remember that. Even your Commander here can be bested when he doesn’t follow the damn rules.’

‘Your Commander fought well, and I for one was fortunate not to have gone up against Kazetch.’ observed Michel diplomatically.

Rylen chortled at the comment. ‘Spoken like a true chevalier.’

A mischievous flash of blue met the Commander’s eye before turning back to the audience. ‘Which brings me to the second rule. When facing your enemy it is imperative that you remain the one who initiates the attacks. Be aggressive and remember, always take the initiative.’

‘Aye but don’t just flay your weapon about willy-nilly.’ ordered Rylen ‘Precise strikes need to be dealt, and preferably to count-strike your opponent mid-action. That is when it matters.’

Michel gripped his hilt securely with both his hands, the elvish blade now shining in the hot desert sun ‘A fine weapon is one thing, but you can use so much more to your advantage even with a rusty piece of iron.’. Lunging forward heavily with his right shoulder, Michel swung at the fighting dummy before him. He delivered a strong blow that sent straw and brown cloth flying. ‘Body leverage will always work to your advantage.’ mentored the ex-chevalier ‘Do not be afraid to use your shoulder or hip to further pack a fair punch.’. Michel flung his blade sharply into the target again and it struck deep ‘Thrusting and cutting will strike down your opponent in the quickest fashion. Do not aim for a friendly duel of clashing steel on steel. Remember your aim is to maim.’

‘Aye mark his words you lot.’ shouted Rylen ‘I don’t want to see any of you clashing your blades and avoiding the lethal strikes. Remember when wielding your sword it’s all about the right timing, knowing your distance, and knowing your enemy. We may not be a pack of fortune tellers, but Maker knows we’re the next best thing.’. The soldiers chuckled and groaned as the Commander clapped his hands in delight, jumping off the crate. ‘Now pair off the lot of you and practice what our Maister of Blades has taught you here today.’ ordered Rylen.

Michel nodded to the passing soldiers, patting some on the shoulder in comradory as they went to collect shields and swords from the weapon racks set up near the stables before entering the training circles.

Clasping Michel on the back in a hug, Rylen grinned ‘Many thanks my friend, hopefully some of them were actually listening.’

‘Were we at their age?’ asked Michel dubiously, sheathing his sword by his side before throwing his companion a mischievous grin.

‘Maker help me if they are anything like I was as a young Templar.’ grimaced the Commander ‘It’s a wonder that any of us made it past our initiation into the bloody Order’. Rylen rubbed his back achingly ‘Look at me, talking like I’m an old man. Actually come to think of it, I feel it these days.’

Michel threw an amused look to his companion ‘Come talk to me when you start dreaming of retiring so you can own a vineyard in the Orlesian countryside and spend your days pottering around the garden and feeding the birds. Now that is the life.’

Rylen chuckled as the ex-chevalier departed the training circle with an amused smile. Walking towards the barracks, Michel suddenly stopped as he spotted me sitting nearby on a wooden crate secretly spectating with a smirk.

‘Are you here for the sword training?’ called out Michel, walking up to me with a beam on his face ‘I could make a knight out of you yet.’

Pretending to unsheathe his sword, I raised my hands in defence and Michel chuckled.

‘Not my choice of weapon, I assure you.’ I observed slyly, delicately placing the fingers from my right hand against my left and staring at him intently.

Michel playfully winced and drew a fearful breath. ‘All you mages have that diabolical glint in your eyes when you speak of magic.’ he observed in amusement ‘I surrender.’

Unbuckling his steel cuirass, the ex-chevalier pulled off the heavy garb and sighed with relief as the cool air greeted his hot skin. Michel shuffled back into the shade to sit beside me, throwing me an entertained look.

‘So! I think I have it.’ I teased ‘Don’t initiate, only block attacks, and always stand still? Yes?’

Michel groaned, withdrawing a flask of water from his belt and taking a deep sip. ‘You joke, but I guarantee you there will be half a dozen that do just that.’. Noticing that I was smiling at him, the ex-chevalier tilted his head curiously. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

Looking away quickly, I pretended to be more interested in looking at the dirt under my nails ‘Nothing, I’m just happy to see you so well recovered. You know? Back into the thick of it, training and cracking jokes with Rylen.’

Michel rested back on his hands and looked out onto the soldiers parrying, a content smile on his face. ‘It feels good to be back with the soldiers here, mentoring them like I used to. And Rylen is an exceptional man to work with. Makes the job a lot easier when you work with someone so amicable.’

‘Now there is something you and Cullen can agree with.’ I observed with a grin ‘Both of you get along with Rylen like a house on fire.’

Michel flashed his blue eyes at me cheekily ‘Yes it seems Cullen and I have similar tastes in all things except for each other’s company.’

Looking away from those beautiful blue eyes, I could feel them upon me even when I was not looking. Michel ran his hand along his jawline with a playful smile as he continued to watch me now fidget with the wooden splinters protruding from the crate. He knew I was embarrassed and I suspected he was entertained by the reception.

‘Do you want to know why I am so happy at the moment?’ asked the ex-chevalier softly.

Looking back to him with narrowed eyes, Michel chuckled at the suspicious glance.

‘Why are you so happy?’ I asked precariously.

Reaching for my hand, Michel gently clasped it in his. A small smile on his lips presented itself as he held my palm affectionately.

‘Because I finally get a chance to do this.’ he replied gently.

The ex-chevalier lifted my hand close to his lips, lingering just above my skin as his blue eyes filled mine. Planting one tender kiss on the back of my hand, his soft and fuul lips met my flesh in a warm and sensual union, one that rendered me breathless. A shiver of a stirring of desire, there was more to this kiss than what it was.

La baiser de la petite mort.

It is remarkable how one small act can leave such an impact. Charisma and charm were abundant in many, yet never had had much hold over me. A thousand men could have looked at me the same, or kissed my hand and never produced the feeling I felt in that moment. The way the ex-chevalier swept his blonde hair back from his brow and revealed his large deep blue eyes and dimples in his jaw as he held my gaze for just enough time to make me fall under his charm. 

‘You pinch your lip when you are nervous.’ observed Michel with a soft smile, refusing to let go of my hand as he held it gently ‘I think it is very cute.’

Looking down I realised my free hand was pinching my bottom lip. Drawing it away, I pulled my other hand from his hold. Flashing him a smile, I bit my lip.

‘You notice too much for your own good.’ I scoffed.

‘It is my job as your protector.’ replied Michel, playfully trying to reach for my hand once more.

Laughing I pulled it away from him ‘Oh ho! I wasn’t aware your duties involved knowing my signs and stealing kisses from the Inquisitor.’

‘That is the most important one.’ observed Michel, grabbing my hand once more and quickly pecking it before I had the chance to pull it away. ‘My apologies, I have a weakness for beautiful Inquisitors.’ he added mischievously.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled my hand back again ‘Words are cheap.’

Running his hand across his jaw, Michel threw me a fond look. ‘Not when I am describing you.’ he replied softly.

Returning my eyes to the clashing of steel, I tried to conceal the smile on my lips. ‘So when do you think we’ll be able to escape from here?’ I asked, eager to change the subject.

Michel sighed, casting his eyes across the dusty courtyard ‘It would take a week for Cullen, Jowan and Leliana to reach Val Royeaux at a comfortable ride. The ordination is most likely well on its way by now, and we all know how the Orlesian Chantry enjoys drawn out ceremonies. My guess is we will be here for the next two weeks or so, at the very least.’

‘Unbelievable.’ I muttered ‘It will be over a month trapped within these walls. The soldiers are already on edge. It bothers me that we have been ordered to stay imprisoned here while they are off on non-Inquisition business. How is it that Leliana can call the shots in regards to that?’

‘And this surprises you?’ asked Michel, somewhat bemusedly. ‘Ask yourself this, who can make Cullen drop everything and follow without hesitation? At the ambush site, and now to Val Royeaux?’

Growing quiet I refused to say the name of the ginger haired woman. ‘You know they share a complicated past.’ I replied quietly.

‘Complicated.’ echoed Michel, more than a little unconvinced ‘You cannot coat those two in sugar, their actions still remain improper no matter how much you try to say otherwise.’. Noticing my unease, Michel added gently ‘You misunderstand me, I was not speaking about your personal relationship with Cullen. You know my thoughts on that. I meant in regards to your role as Inquisitor. Ophelia, once again you are not being shown the respect you are owed. Leliana is treating you as a puppet, and Cullen is allowing her to do so.’

‘OPEN THE GATES!!!’ roared a familiar voice from outside the keep ‘Inquisition, I demand that you open these gates at once!!!’

‘For fuck’s sake, ee’s at it agin.’ muttered a guard nearby ‘Commander Rylen! Commander Rylen! Ee’s at the bloody gate agin.’

A pair of guards quickly descended the steps of the battlements and approached Rylen in the training circle. They spoke for several moments and the Commander’s jovial face steadily grew more and more solemn.

‘Alistair.’ remarked Michel dismally. His blue eyes held mine, solemn and yet I knew empathetic to the cries of the man outside. ‘Ophelia this is not right. To leave any man begging at the gates is wrong. Yet Alistair is also our friend and ally. You cannot keep him begging at the gates every day, it has gone on too long.’

Rylen nodded as he sidled up to Michel and I, partially overhearing our conversation.

‘Inquisitor, I hate to say it but this is getting out of hand.’ observed Rylen ‘Do we continue to ignore Warden-Commander Alistair? And if so, for how long?’

Looking over to Michel, I knew I agreed with my friend. ‘Cullen and Leliana forbade any contact.’ I answered wearily ‘There is little I can do.’

‘Cullen and Leliana are not here and we have an ongoing and escalating situation.’ remarked Rylen seriously ‘Alistair’s brought eighty Grey Wardens with him. They are outside the keep as we speak.’

‘What? Eighty?!’ I replied in surprise ‘Why would Alistair bring so many to the keep?’

‘Do you think they intend to be hostile?’ asked Michel, suddenly springing to his feet. The ex-chevalier looked concerned, as if he already knew the answer.

Rylen shrugged ‘The man keeps returning with more and more wardens every day, demanding to be let in. I can only speculate on the implications of such actions. If he wasn’t Alistair I’d say we would be under siege before too long. Then again, the man outside the keep is not acting like the Alistair I know.’

‘This never would have happened if we had simply spoken to him like I wanted to do.’ I muttered, throwing a displeased look to my companions. ‘You already know what I wish to do.’

The ex-chevalier rubbed his eyes wearily, apparently trying to think of a solution ‘Cullen ordered us to keep the gates shut, but Rylen is the acting Commander in his absence and you Ophelia are the Inquisitor. There is a small chance we can calm things before it is too late.’

Rylen looked unhappy but nodded his head in agreement ‘Cullen never makes a decision lightly, and if he ordered us to remain silent and bar the gates then we should. However the situation has changed, and there is a growing threat to my men and women here, and to you as the Inquisitor. Something needs to be done.’. Rubbing his temples, he frowned before turning to me. ‘Ophelia I am not sure whether you know anything about the whereabouts of Sierra Amell. Alistair seems adamant that we do? If you could tell him whatever you know, however trifle, perhaps that will be enough to calm him?’

Michel cast me a silent nod, and I reciprocated. Both he and I knew of Sierra’s demise at the hands of Cullen in the marshlands.

‘Then I must go and speak with Alistair.’ I replied darkly, dreading to be the bearer of the terrible news that awaited him ‘He needs to know the truth, no matter what may happen afterwards.’

‘You will not have to do this alone. We will ride out together.’ added Michel with a reassuring nod.

‘Well count me in for a little fun.’ remarked Rylen ‘Three against eighty-one, what could possibly go wrong?’

Rylen clicked his fingers and ordered for three horses to be saddled. The stable hands readied our beasts and we took the reins with growing anticipation of what lay outside. Mounting our horses we waited for the heavy giant iron gates of the keep to be opened. They groaned loudly, and through the thick bars we could see the Grey Wardens were waiting now directly outside the entrance of the Griffon Wing Keep.

Kicking our feet against our horses, we rode towards the column formation of Grey Wardens. It was a confrontational encounter, and somewhat different from previous warmer receptions with the Order. At the front of the group was Alistair, sitting sternly in his saddle. The Warden-Commander looked gaunt and tired, and it was evident he had not slept or eaten much for many a week. His brown hair was dry and dishevelled, and a thick stubble grew on his normal clean shaven face.

‘For two and a half weeks you have closed your gates and refused to speak to me.’ yelled out Alistair as we approached ‘As the Maker is my witness your silence is your guilt. We all see that. Inquisition, I need to know what has happened to Sierra Amell.’

‘Alistair what is going on here?’ asked Rylen sternly, casting his eyes to the Grey Wardens behind the Warden-Commander ‘Would you seek to fight against your neighbours and allies? Come friend, this is not like you.’

Alistair looked coldly at Rylen, before turning his attention to me ‘It is with great pity that I must resort to this, but if you cannot tell me what I need to know there will be no other choice but to become more hostile. Ophelia, I know you all were involved with the disappearance of Sierra. You must tell me where she is.’

‘Ophelia was not involved.’ remarked Michel sternly ‘As neither was Rylen or I.’

‘Then it was Cullen, as I had suspected.’ replied Alistiar darkly.

Nodding silently and gathering all the strength I could muster, I looked Alistair directly in the eye. ‘I am so sorry Alistair…’ I remarked sadly.

Catching his breath, Alistair clenched his jaw to stop his emotions from spilling forth. His eyes grew red, but no tears fell as he remained stone faced. His fist clenched the reins hard, and his horse stirred restlessly with a loud snort.

‘Then he has murdered my heart.’ murmured Alistair, looking blankly towards the ground.

The sound of the birds of prey screeched in the distance every now and then as we all waited in silence, allowing the man before us to take in the cruel news we had delivered him. Finally Alistair lifted his eyes to cast us a dark look, returning from his dismal thoughts to his dismal reality.

‘You must tell me where she is.’ he muttered.

‘I was not there when it happened, but I know of the general location of where it….happened.’ I answered ‘I will go with you. To help you find her.’

Michel nodded ‘I will come also to aid you. Alistair, as I said, you must know neither Ophelia, Rylen nor I played a part in this. This was not an act of the Inquisition.’

Alistair flashed his red eyes furiously towards Michel, his face contorted with rage. ‘Cullen murdered Sierra, we all know that much. Where is he now? Why does he send you and Ophelia in his stead?’

The ex-chevalier clenched his jaw, as if he was annoyed at the actions of his Commander. ‘Cullen left for Val Royeaux a few weeks prior. Why he has not chosen to speak to you I cannot say.’

Alistair scoffed in disgust ‘He runs away and leaves you both to clean up the mess he has created. Were I like him perhaps I would murder Ophelia right now and claim my revenge.’

Michel flashed dangerous eyes to the Warden-Commander, silently warning him to rethink such statements as he raised his hand to touch the hilt of Banal Nadas. The tension was painful, and hastily I tried to diffuse it.

‘I’m so sorry Alistair.’ I remarked dismally ‘You have every right to feel what you feel.’

‘Wh...where did it happen?’ asked Alistair quietly ‘Where did Cullen do it?’

‘In the marshlands beyond Lydes, where the land meets the Waking Sea.’ I answered.

A shadow fell on the Grey Warden’s face, his eyes looking at me in disbelief. ‘He murdered my love in some desolate marshlands.’ he whispered ‘What sort of monster have you on your side?’

Alistair’s eyes were filled with sorrow and he looked upon us as if appealing for reason. None of us could not give him any, and again we remained silent.

‘We ride out immediately then.’ informed Alistair morbidly ‘My men have supplies to sustain our journey. Let us hope it is not in vain.’

Throwing a brief nod of farewell to Rylen, Michel and I set off with Alistair and three other Grey Wardens. Over the sandy hills and eastbound towards the Waking Sea. Our journey would be a sad one, but we had no choice. It was the right thing to do. Given the circumstances, it was the only thing to do.

****

Our journey from the Western Approach felt brief despite the uncomfortable silence that consumed our party. Alistair was in shock, and he refused to speak as we painstakingly informed him of what had happened on that fateful day of the ambush. The story was patchy at best, with many a detail left out. I knew that Alistair would learn of Leliana being alive soon enough, so I thought best if he heard that from me. As for Jowan, I was unwilling to divulge his part in all of this. Michel would often throw me a glance when I would skim over certain details, perhaps he approved or perhaps he did not. In the end I gave Alistair the best account of details that I was able to, considering all things.

Alistair merely listened on in silence. If he had suspected Sierra had fallen to foul play, it was apparent he had not been prepared to hear me confirm it with such clarity. I noticed his posture grow rigid when I described Leliana’s involvement in pursuing his lover to Orlais. Other than that, the Warden-Commander rode often with a blank expression, a hollowness in his eyes that made me want to cry. He stared into the distance and was a thousand miles away in his head. It was heartbreaking to watch such a good man succumb to such grief. My eyes followed the ground for the better part of the journey, whether driven by shame or grief I did not know. Both however felt utterly miserable.

Breaking only for a few hours of rest in the late hours of that night, we were risen before dawn by Alistair urging us to ride onwards. Nothing awaited him but finding death, yet he was desperate to reach the marshlands. As we rode hard throughout the day, we passed the village of Lydes and continued onwards. The lush rolling green hills of the Orlesian countryside soon transformed to a more desolate terrain; of barren trees and shrubs sprouting out of the boggy soil. Pockets of foul gas were released as our horses treaded heavily in the thick mud, emitting a reprehensible stench that permeated our clothes and hair.

Alistair had ridden up ahead with his Grey Wardens and finally Michel and I had a chance to speak in private.

‘Did Cullen mention as to what he did with Sierra’s body?’ asked Michel quietly ‘You do realise how far the Orlesian wetlands extends?’

Casting my eyes helplessly across the extensive boggy terrain, I shook my head. ‘No he only mentioned that he took her life close to the shore of the Waking Sea.’ I whispered.

‘Then let us hope he had the decency to bury her in a marked grave so Alistair can at least be spared any further grief.’ muttered Michel ‘To see one’s love deceased is a horrific thing. Alistair will never be the same.’

‘Either way, Alistair will never be the same.’ I replied darkly.

‘That is true.’ murmured Michel.

Riding on in silence I knew all too well that Michel was referring to his own tragic experience with his wife and lover. There was nothing I could say as I turned my eyes from one man riddled with grief to another up ahead.

A cool eastern sea breeze blew against us by early afternoon and it was apparent we were close to our destination. The Grey Warden soldiers up ahead finally shouted as they spotted the shores of the Waking Sea between the marsh reeds and thicket.

With solemn dispositions, we all dismounted and agreed to search different parts of the surrounding marshland. I took the southern area, while the wardens searched west. Michel and Alistair began their search further north. We all hoped and feared for the worst.

Sinking deep through mud as I waded through the bog, it was uncertain whether being scratched by sharp bushes or being stung by mud flies was more torturous. Every time I spotted a strange shaped log or clump of low lying shrubs, my heart sunk only to breathe a sigh of relief when I discovered it was not a body. Hours passed and my spirits dropped. All I had wanted to do was give Alistair peace of mind, and yet even that was looking uncertain. In the end all that I had accomplished was letting down Alistair and Cullen. How could either ever forgive me?

My eyes turned sharp as a cry sounded loud across the marshlands and hastily I made my way towards the voice of the soldier in the distance. Before I even arrived, Alistair’s voice roared through the terrain. A heart wrenching echo of distressed mourning that sent ravens flying off the barren branches and flying towards the horizon. I did not have to see the body to know that Alistair had found Sierra

The Grey Warden soldiers and Michel stopped me before I could arrive at the scene, their faces dark and deathly morbid. A gentle arm on mine, the ex-chevalier pulled me away from the scene behind them.

‘Come let us set up camp on the shore.’ Michel murmured ‘Alistair will need some time alone.’

Silently we set up our camp in a clearing by the shore under some large crepe myrtle trees blooming vibrant purple flowers. The soft lapping of the crystal water and the fresh air from the Waking Sea made it a beautifully scenic place to rest and somewhat eased our otherwise troubled minds. The three Grey Wardens in our party spoke softly amongst themselves, throwing the occasional accusatory look towards Michel and I. It was apparent they blamed us entirely for Sierra’s demise, and perhaps they had every reason to feel so. Cullen had had his revenge, but I was beginning to wonder why he had done so. Leliana had returned and revealed herself not to be dead. So why had Cullen decided vengeance was so necessary? What fuelled him to track Sierra from the Western Approach to Orlais in order to murder the Hero of Ferelden in such a bloody and violent act?

‘The Warden-Commander should arrest the bloody lot of them.’ muttered one of the Wardens loudly, and the other two nodded.

‘Aye everyone in that keep should be put to the fucking gallows.’ piped up another Warden, spitting towards the direction where Michel and I sat.

‘We had nothing to do with this.’ retorted Michel sternly, casting a serious look to the Wardens ‘You would do best to get your facts right before spreading rumours through the ranks about our involvement in this.’

The younger Grey-Warden cursed at Michel and made a vile gesture towards the Orlesian. ‘Fuck the Inquisition. If one of yours kill ours then you are all the enemy.’

The ex-chevalier rose to his feet and so too did the Wardens, obviously eager to escalate the situation further.

‘Ophelia come with me.’ ordered Michel darkly, collecting his pack ‘I do not think we shall get sufficient rest with this lot tonight.’

Traipsing silently through the tall grass, I followed Michel as he made his way along the shoreline to the next clearing about a quarter of a mile onwards up from the original camp. A gathering of large oak trees formed a semi-circle and we decided it was a good place for shelter that night.

Michel’s face looked more than a little concerned as he set up camp, and his silent disposition further confirmed his anxiousness.

‘Tell me how a war is not going to start over this?’ I asked fearfully ‘You heard what the Grey Wardens think. Cullen and Leliana were right.’

Michel scoffed in disgust ‘The Grey Wardens were going to react badly whether they knew the truth about Sierra or not. Cullen should have thought things over more carefully before he decided to murder her.’

‘Leliana and Cullen believed if Alistair had no proof there would be no cause for concern.’ I explained, more than a little unconvinced ‘One thing is for certain, they will blame me now for giving Alistair proof.’

Michel paused and turned to me, his face growing a little calmer. ‘What did Leliana and Cullen think was going to happen when Sierra went missing?’ asked Michel ‘That Alistair would sweep it under the rug and not come to the most obvious conclusion? Because he had no proof? No, you are not to blame here. You gave a man his peace of mind, and spared an attack at the Griffon Wing Keep. We were outnumbered and there was only one choice before us.’

‘Why did he murder her, Michel?’ I asked softly, throwing a sad look towards my friend ‘You say I am not to blame but I knew what Cullen intended to do. I...I just thought that he would have changed his mind after he saw Leliana alive. Why would Cullen have continued on with the plan to murder Sierra?’

‘Perhaps Leliana was not the reason he sought her death in the first place?’ suggested Michel, throwing me a raised brow as he approached the edge of trees and bushes.

‘What do you mean?’ I frowned ‘Do you think Cullen was always seeking Sierra’s death?’

Michel remained quiet as he gathered some kindling and tinder, returning with a large pile before retreating further into the trees. A while later he returned with a large armful of wood. Withdrawing a pouch from his belt, he produced a shard of grey flint. Unsheathing a small dirk from his belt, the ex-chevalier began to strike the steel down the sharp edge of the flint and moments later a shower of sparks landed on the dry tinder. Blowing gently onto the smoking sparks, a small flicker of light erupted and quickly he took the tinder and placed it under some of the small dry twigs. A flame began burning, and quickly the knight assembled it into a well-lit fire before us.

Still Michel had no answered my question, and yet I knew the answer was running through his mind as he stared solemnly into the flames. Throwing more twigs and leaves onto the fire, he eventually added a few bits of wood which started to burn. Finally Michel turned around and settled back against the log next to me.

‘Whether you want to hear it or not, Cullen’s actions were personal.’ Michel answered ‘That is why he murdered her.’

Reaching over to the pack, the ex-chevalier unrolled the bedding beside the fire. It was evident he was restless, and trying to distract himself. Finally it became too much and Michel turned to me suddenly with furious blue eyes.

‘He ran her through the stomach and left her to bleed out in the bog.’ informed Michel angrily ‘Cullen left Sierra’s body there to rot. There was no attempt to bury her or at the very least cover her with some branches. Her eyes had been pecked and gnawed at by animals, ravens most likely. Her face shredded. It was…disgusting. I could not let you see what Cullen had done, but in truth I could not let you be ignorant to what he is capable of.’

Remaining silent, I stared into the flames as my heart pounded. What could I possibly say to that?

‘Sierra was an evil woman.’ I murmured.

‘Even in battle we afford our enemies with a proper burial.’ retorted Michel ‘Even the dead deserve their last rites.’

‘Somewhat hypocritical in our line of work, given we don’t offer the same for the Red Templars, Venatori or darkspawn.’ I argued defensively.

‘That is not the same thing and you know it.’ replied Michel ‘Cullen was intimately involved with this woman at one time. Yet in his eyes did she not even deserve a burial?’

‘I..I do not know…’ I replied darkly ‘I do not know what to think.’

Of course I knew it was a shameless act, and I was growing angrier at the entire chain of events the more time I had to digest them. The way Cullen and Leliana had arrived back at the keep, staying around only to order us to lie for them before riding off and leaving us all to clean up their mess.

‘I’m going to wash up.’ muttered Michel ‘Hopefully some of the taint of today will come off.’

Nodding to my friend, I watched him head further up the shore and disappear behind the trees. Staring back into the fire, all I saw were flames of rage stirring within me. The look on Alistair’s face when we told him Sierra was dead. The sound of his heartbroken roar when he finally discovered her body.

Clenching my jaw I could see the smirk on Leliana’s face and Cullen’s indifference to Alistair yelling out over the gates, demanding to know where Sierra was. I knew Leliana and Cullen had a dark history of their own, but how dark was it? Was I naively turning a blind eye to what Leliana and Cullen were capable of? What their true natures revealed?

Standing up, I marched towards to the sea, eager to splash my face with the cool water. Kicking off my boots, I waded into the water and sighed in relief as the soothing water welcomed my sore feet. The sea was beautifully calm, as still as a millpond and reflecting the serene sky like a looking glass. The blue sky of evening and the soft chirp of crickets were calming, and my eyes dreamily drifted across the horizon and along the shore where I caught sight of a naked figure with blonde hair, standing in the distance.

Biting my lip, my eyes darted away before drawing back to the man in the water.

At that moment I should have averted my eyes and returned to the fire, but I shamelessly wanted to look at the sight before me. That of an ex-chevalier’s muscular bare back and buttocks as he with his back to me in the water. Unaware that I was in viewing distance, he cupped the water in his hands and washed himself, splashing his white skin before sinking into the sea. Michel dunked himself entirely into the sea before emerging, flicking back his blonde hair as he stood naked.

His body was chiselled to perfection like that of a stone statue of an Orlesian artist’s vision. White skin that glowed in the twilight, and blue eyes that reflected the crystal waters of the sea. Elegance combined with the brutality of a warrior’s physique, his muscular chest narrowing down into a toned slim waist. Pale and flawless, a beautiful being more ethereal than human as he connected with the nature surrounding him. Michel was the water and the trees beside it. He was the night sky above and sand beneath my toes. The man was whole once more, and I could feel his serenity and beauty even from far away.

Sheepishly I made my way back to the campsite, my heart pounding as I entertained the image of Michel in the water. Quickly placing more wood on the dying fire, my guilty thoughts were finally disturbed by the sound of footsteps that drew my attention to a semi-clothed ex-chevalier returning to the fire. Michel’s blonde hair was dripping, and in one hand he was holding his cuirass and pauldrons. Placing them on the ground, Michel returned to sit beside me by the fire.

‘Was the water cold?’ I asked innocently, poking the fire with a stick.

Michel nodded, bringing his hands to the flames. ‘A little too refreshing.’ he exclaimed ‘It’s been a while since I swam in the Waking Sea in late winter, not for several years now at least’. A small smile formed on his face as he threw me an amused look, looking down at my bare feet and rolled up pants ‘How did you find it?’

‘Refreshing.’ I replied, biting my lip as I realised I had been found out.

The ex-chevalier broke out into laughter, shaking his head as he rubbed his jaw in slight embarrassment.

‘You’re also cute when you’re embarrassed.’ I taunted, nudging him in the ribs ‘He-who-rubs-his-jaw.’

The Orlesian drew his hand from his jaw, reaching over to run his fingers through my hair playfully. Michel smiled at me with bright blue eyes that were illuminated by the fire before us, and I silently returned a smile back.

Slowly Michel leant over towards me, and with a dashing smile inches away from my lips he paused graciously.

‘May I?’ he asked in low voice. Playful, yet charming.

Before my conscience could get the better of me and answer, I leant forward and felt Michel press his lips against mine. One soft kiss after another soft kiss, his lips tasted of salt from the sea and his skin smelt sweet like citrus and lavender. The knight drew me to him, gently running his hands across my shoulders and waist as he held that tender embrace and maintained that series of sensual kisses. Finally Michel pulled away, fondly looking back at me.

Inhaling heavy into my chest, I looked up at the ex-chevalier.

‘Why did you stop?’ I whispered.

Without hesitation Michel suddenly drew towards me again, his lips falling onto mine once more and producing a kiss in equal parts of sensual and sexual in need. His delicate hands reached around me, gently encouraging me to the ground as he continued his deep kisses. On the neck and cheeks and lips. My hands and his running through our hair and cupping our cheeks as we embraced each other over and over again. Each time his lips met flesh, the connection was more passionate and intimate. My desire burned as I dove into his hungry mouth, our moans stifled in our passionate kisses.

A rustle in the bushes startled us, of heavy footsteps and breaking sticks, and we broke away from each other to see Alistair standing at the edge of our camp. His eyes were red and puffy, and his demeanour was dark. With a bitter chuckle, the Warden-Commander made his way to our fire and sat directly before us.

‘Oh don’t worry, I am actually relieved you are both involved.’ Alistair muttered ‘Anyone who is in allegiance with Cullen at the moment is my enemy.’

‘We…we are in allegiance with Cullen.’ I replied uneasily, pulling myself up from the ground. Michel threw me a silent look, one warning me to be on my guard. I nodded, making my way closer to the fire to sit with our newest companion.

Alistair shrugged, bringing his hands to the fire. ‘I heard rumours of Michel and you a while ago and never thought anything of it. Just a bit of gossip most likely coming from what happened at the Grand Tourney. However now Cullen’s true nature has been revealed…well, of course you wouldn’t be involved with that maniac.’

‘Alisi-.’ begun Michel.

Alistair waved his hand, interrupting Michel. ‘It’s fine. I can see you both are good people. Whatever hold Cullen has over the Inquisition, and indeed over you both, I can put an end to it. There are-’

‘Alistair.’ interjected Michel quickly ‘What Ophelia and I feel for each other has nothing to do with Cullen. This has nothing to do with Cullen.’

‘How much do either of you have to do with Cullen in general?’ asked Alistair darkly, almost challenging us. ‘You say Leliana has been resurrected yet again and from all accounts of what you have told me, she and Cullen hold the reins to the Inquisition, the Templar Order and the Chantry now. Have you asked yourself why? To what end are they monopolising Thedas? Where exactly do you both, or the Grey Wardens, stand in their power play? No this is more than just about Sierra’s death. This is about Thedas being in the hands of two sinister behemoths united together, acting only in the interests of themselves.’

Michel threw some more wood on the fire, the embers sparking into shooting stars of orange.

‘Alistair I know this is not the time to bring such things to mind, but Sierra was responsible for the attack on Leliana and Cassandra.’ observed Michel cautiously ‘She orchestrated the attack in the hopes of turning the Chantry against the Grey Wardens and therefore hoping your Order would be destroyed as vengeance for the deaths of the former Left and Right hand of the Divine.’

The Warden-Commander’s face grew bitter, casting an angry look to Michel. ‘What proof have you?’ he scowled ‘Being a Grey Warden was our entire life. Sierra would never….’

‘Something tells me you were already aware of Sierra’s sentiments towards your Order?’ I observed quietly.

Alistair’s blue eye’s flickered up to mine through the dancing flames. ‘She spent the better part of a decade trying to find a cure to release us from the taint. Ever since Duncan conscripted her to become a Grey Warden Sierra felt as if the Order had deceived her. Lied to her. Took away her life. She…had a little difficulty coping with that.’

‘What will you do now?’ asked Michel solemnly ‘Start a war with the Inquisition? Start a war with the Chantry? With the templars? You know that is not the way my friend.’

‘I will take Sierra’s body back to Adamant Fortress and she will receive a proper Grey Warden burial.’ replied Alistair stiffly ‘A hero’s burial. After that I will seek my own retribution as I see fit. I know where to strike, and Maker forgive me, I hope he will see it too.’. Nodding to us, the Ferelden stood up once more ‘You have my thanks on giving me this last chance to say goodbye to Sierra.’

Alistair paused to look at the shore before him, a sad look on his face before turning away. Heavily he walked through the bushes back towards his camp and moments later was gone.

Michel cast me a concerned look, and I frowned. We both knew that Alistair would not rest until he had his own revenge.

‘He’s after blood, isn’t he?’ I observed quietly ‘Alistair intends to go after Cullen.’

Michel threw his eyes up to the stars, appealing to the skies above, before looking back at me somewhat uneasily ‘Cullen took the life of the one person that meant everything to Alistair. I suspect Alistair has decided to do the same.’

Eyes widening in surprise, I looked around me somewhat fearfully. ‘You think Alistair intends to murder me? He’s after my blood?’

The Orlesian hesitated, looking uneasily at me. ‘Not you Ophelia.’ replied Michel softly, throwing me an apologetic look ‘Leliana.’

Scoffing, I threw some tinder into the fire and the flames hissed as the oil from the leaves ignited. ‘Cullen is with me.’ I replied defensively ‘Alistair would have no reason to go after Leliana when Cullen is with me.’

The ex-chevalier nodded, standing up once more. He refused to say what was on his mind, that much was evident.

‘I should go get some more wood.’ Michel observed quietly ‘Stay close to the fire and call for me if you see anyone approaching.’

The ex-chevalier raised his blue eyes to mine and held them for a moment before turning away.

What was said had been said and there was nothing more to say.


	56. The Third Wheel

Fingers frozen beneath her gloves, bitterly she blew warm air onto the soft leather whilst cursing the cold and unforgiving night. Pausing for one small moment to gather her wits, she focused on the winding path before her. A shadowy trail leading into a gathering of large pine trees. A blackened forest at her feet. No person in their right mind would venture on this path during the day, let alone at night with only the light of the moon to guide their way. With a forest full of wolves, wild boar and bears, it was imperative to ride hard and not stop until she reached her destination. It was not the first message she had fearfully delivered under the veil of night, and she was determined that it would not be her last.

Thirty or so messengers had been sent out from Denerim a day prior, all with strict orders to deliver the urgent news without delay. Each clasping a hastily scrawled letter, stamped with the red royal seal, the messengers mounted their horses and galloped away in different directions.

A chilling howl of a wolf sounded in the distance and echoed throughout the valley behind her. Catching her breath sharp in her chest, the messenger looked around fearfully.

‘May the Maker protect me and guide me safely.’ she murmured determinedly, holding the reins tight.

Throwing one last look behind her, she kicked her heels hard and rode forward, up the ominous Sulcher’s Pass and towards the Frostback Mountains.

****

_Decided by fate, two lovers entwined, too soon one then died._   
_A fair lass lay in polished walnut, mere sixteen inches wide._   
_Her other half, of bleeding heart, lay tears and roses down. _   
_Stretched out upon her final rest, he slept on upturned ground._   
  
_One destined lover doomed to love, whilst the other blissfully sleeps._   
_Each night the darkness engulfs his will, and bitterly he weeps._   
_A merry sun that dances high, now stumbles to a melancholic moon._   
_And all that grows and flourishes bright will wither all too soon._   
  
_In grief he vows never to love, he vows now never to linger._   
_Wilted stem and blacked thorn, he pricks his own small finger._   
_Laying down once more to rest, he shuts his disillusioned eyes._   
_Pale and languid once more he opens them, to bright blue morning skies._

The sky was transforming from blackened ash to an ominous grey as the morning light began to dilute the night. A soft rumble sounded in the distance, warning that rain would be arriving before too long, as did the moist dewy scent lingering in the air. Pleasant notes of sandy soil, green shoots of grass and a fresh sea breeze awoke me that morning and for a few happy moments I had forgotten entirely where I was or what had happened on previous days.

Unfortunately such blissful moments are all too soon lost, and it was only a matter of moments before all was recollected.

Eyes drifting from the shoreline where the waves lapped onto the sand, the leaves above suddenly caught my attention. The branches of the trees rustled and swayed and I found myself looking precariously to the old limbs of the oak. As a child I had once seen an oak tree being ripped out of the soil by its roots on a particular windy day. Before me it fell backwards, so fast that it landed before I remembered to breathe, and I stood there horrifically mesmerised at the towering roots before me. At that moment I knew life was ever so fickle.

Nothing was inevitable. Banal nadas

Michel was sleeping soundly near the glowing embers of the fire, slumbering in full plate armour. His blonde hair lay scattered across the cloth mat as he lay on his side, his gauntleted hand wrapped around the hilt of Banal Nadas, ready to be used. Naturally we were all used to sleeping with a dagger under our pillow, yet never had I seen a knight sleep so peacefully in plate mail with a sword by his side like a cherished lover. It looked….uncomfortable.

After Michel had left me that previous evening, in search of firewood and perhaps solace, I had remained behind with only my concerns to entertain me until I had fallen asleep. My angst lay with Alistair, and his impending vengeance. With Cullen and his reaction to what I had done. With Leliana and her next move in the game. My grip on the Inquisition was slipping, and I had decided to appeal to Cassandra in one desperate attempt to make a council member see the dangerous path that we were heading towards. Whether we liked it or not, the Inquisition was now in a situation that could not be resolved by either Cullen or Leliana. In fact their mere presence on the war council would make it near impossible. The solution to the problem was unknown, but I knew I needed Cassandra on side if there was any chance of finding it.

Of course, then there was the other concern that plagued my thoughts…

Drawing a deep breath into his lungs the ex-chevalier finally awoke, rolling onto his back as he brought his hand to his forehead. Looking across to me staring at him, the Orlesian threw a tired smile.

‘For a moment I thought I was in my bed at Skyhold,’ he confessed ‘but then I remembered my four poster doesn’t have a giant tree root under the featherbed.’

‘Rough night’s sleep?’ I mused.

Michel chuckled ‘I guarantee you that I’ve had much worse. Have you been keeping watch while I slept?’ he asked, easing himself up from the ground. The cold of the morning made for aching bones, and Michel winced as he stood up. ‘There’s not much out here on the outskirts of the Heartlands apart from some pheasants and fennecs. Not even the highwaymen care to roam this far.’. Michel chuckled to himself, recalling a memory. ‘When I was travelling with Grand Duke Gaspard he would often tell me stories of Emperor Florian Valmont. Apparently the man was not fond of his looks and somewhat begrudgingly commissioned a statue of himself, as all rulers of Orlais are expected. There is a parterre garden at the Winter Palace that is filled with all the Emperor’s and Empresses, immortalised in stone for eternity. Well, when the statue of Florian was finished he was so repulsed by it that he had it thrown in the Hissing Wastes where no one could ever see it. The Emperor then commissioned a Nevarren sculptor to make a second statue, to be chiselled in pure white marble and under strict orders to make it aesthetically pleasing to the eye.’. Michel paused and threw me a grin ‘Apparently it was even uglier than the original. Florian ordered the statue to be dumped out here in the Orlesian marshes where no one ever ventured, and according to Gaspard the sculptor went missing not too soon after.’

‘That’s horrible.’ I remarked, a curl on my lips reflecting the one on Michel’s.

The knight nodded as he retrieved his blade and sheathed it to his side ‘Emperors and kings, they tend not to be the most level headed of people.’

Hesitating for a moment, I knew I had to say what had been consuming my thoughts. No more waiting for the right moment, it had to be now.

‘Michel...’ I began precariously ‘…I have to apologise for last night.’

Catching my eye for a split second, Michel nodded before he commenced to pack up the campsite, growing quiet as the wind loudly rushed through the trees. A sadness radiated from him, although he said nothing to imply as such. ‘Then let us pretend that it never happened and leave it at that.’ observed Michel ‘You have my word that I will not mention what happened to a soul, especially not Cullen.’

‘No I…’. My words faltered as I looked at the man before me, who held such a silent yet sad, elegant demeanour. Even in his disappointment, he maintained such civility in his composure. ‘I wanted to apologise about what I said.’ I clarified.

With curious blue eyes, Michel threw me a confused expression ‘Apologise for what you said?’

Rubbing my temples, I knew he deserved a better explanation. Michel deserved so much more, but at least I could give him some insight. ‘Before you joined the Inquisition. Before we first met in Emprise du Lion, it was just Cullen and I for a very long time.’ I explained ‘Mind you, we had only been involved a few months at that point, and most of that time was very up and down.’

Michel raised his hand, his face growing serious ‘Ophelia I am sorry. I know you and Cullen share a bond and once again I got in th-.’

‘No that is not what I meant.’ I interrupted hastily, raising my hands to stop him. ‘Last night I said to you that Cullen was with me. For that is the way I always envisaged him and I, as you probably suspected. Through every good and bad turn…that was how I saw it.’. Growing quiet, my eyes lowered to the ground. ‘I know however that this is not true. It hasn’t been just us for quite a while now, if ever.’

‘You blame me for getting in-between you both.’ observed Michel, looking sombre.

‘Of course not!’ I replied, shaking my head at the man ‘No, you are not to blame. I meant Leliana. She has always been there, right under my nose and I never saw it. I know you must think of me as the most delusional person in Thedas, never acknowledging the truth that was so evident to you. You would be right Michel.’

Michel threw me a sympathetic look ‘Sometimes it is easier to see things as they are when you are standing on the outside looking in. Perhaps my past experiences have given me the painful clarity that I too refused to see in prior days.’. Revealing a bright smile, he added ‘Or perhaps I have just heard one too many lies in the Winter Palace and now can spot one a mile away.’

‘Last night I spent several hours in quiet introspection, seriously questioning my feelings and my actions over those months since we met. About Cullen and about you.’. Pursing my lips, I looked almost angry at my revelations. ‘At the ambush site at the Lost Canyon Springs you were by my side. By the blazes, you took a lethal blow and saved my life. When we told Alistair about Sierra, once again you were there. You were there with me when I went to speak to the Templars about disbanding their Order. You offered to protect me at all costs, requesting to become my champion. At every crisis I have endured, you have been there for me, offering friendship and support even when there was nothing I could give you in return.’

Michel grabbed my hands in his, his blue eyes appealing to me. ‘What sort of man offers kindness with an agenda? With an expectation of something in return? Ophelia all that I gave you is what any true friend would have offered.’. Michel bowed his head, placing a kiss on my hand before looking back to me ‘That is the very least of what any man who cares about you should offer.

Meeting his ardent gaze, I threw him an appreciative look. ‘I know Cullen and Leliana share a past that I can never complete with,’ I continued ‘and a future I am most certain will not involve me. Leliana will do anything to get her way, we’ve all be privy to that side of her. Her determination to have Cullen’s child is not something I can prevent. It’s not something I want to be a part of either. Always wondering where Cullen is and if he is with her.’. Chuckling bitterly, I threw Michel a cynical look. ‘We both know Cullen will be with Leliana. He is her Right Hand, her Knight-Commander of the Templar Order and her Commander of the Inquisition. Where else is Cullen going to be but at her side. That may be how he wants to live his life, but it is not how I want to live mine.’. Frowning, I added bitterly ‘Even if there were a chance, I tire of this game Michel. I’m so very, very tired. I do not wish to be a part of it anymore.’

The ex-chevalier looked troubled as he considered my words. ‘One of my deepest regrets is doing something similar to what Cullen is doing to you right now.’ observed Michel remorsefully ‘Unable or unwilling to disappoint either lover, he keeps both women at his side. Perhaps Cullen is truly in love with you and not Leliana? Or perhaps it is the other way round? It makes no difference. Cullen will never let go of either of you and he will hate himself for it. Either way there is one thing that is certain Ophelia, you will end up suffering for his decisions.’

Looking blankly out into the endlessness of marshes, I shook my head in defeat. ‘Every part of me justifies his actions yet I know Cullen concealing Leliana’s involvement with him was utterly wrong. They both were happy to lie to my face with no concern over my right to know. I see how he acts when he is around her, and she with him. Those actions speak louder than words of reassurance.’

‘Ophelia,’ murmured Michel, his eyes looking gently into mine ‘if you see that then why are you with Cullen?’

Why indeed? To profess my love would have fallen on deaf ears, and perhaps with good reason. For what I felt was divided, and my heart again was torn. Yet if real pain came from the actions of a professed love, then surely one’s heart was deceiving oneself?

‘Michel when you were laying on your deathbed back at the Griffon Wing Keep I never left your side.’ I confessed ‘Yet it was not just out of loyalty and friendship. I whispered into your ear over and over again ar lath ma, and I meant it.’. Looking at the half-elf sincerely, I added ‘I am so sorry for always putting you second when you only ever deserved to be put first.’

Drawing closer, his tall frame looked down and smiled at me. ‘No,’ he replied softly ‘you do not need to apologise.’

‘No I do.’ I replied adamantly ‘Knowing now how it feels to always be brushed aside. I should never have done that to you. Knowing that you never gave up on me, I should have never done so to you.’

‘Did something happen recently with Cullen?’ asked Michel ‘Not to question your revelations, but what has brought this about now? Surely it cannot be what Alistair mentioned yesterday?’

‘There was something that happened, but to speak of it out loud sounds petty.’ I muttered.

‘Not to me.’ replied Michel, nodding in encouragement.

‘The night before Cullen was to leave to Val Royeaux we were spending time together.’ I explained ‘Yet soon after he was called away late by Leliana, on important business. On a whim he choose to be with her, without question, even when I asked him to stay. I know that sounds ridiculously frivolous of me, but the point is Cullen left and he never returned to me. I awoke the next day and he had already set off to Orlais. I could not even say for certain that he slept in our bed.’. Feeling embarrassed, I turned towards my horse ‘It matters not. Come, we should head out. I just wanted to apologise for what I had said yesterday night. It was insensitive and inaccurate. For what it is worth, you and Alistair were right. Leliana means everything to Cullen. Cullen’s heart is not with me, if it ever has been at all.’

Michel looked determined, ready to reply before stopping himself. Instead he turned to continue packing up the camp, and I prepared our horses for the ride. Several times the ex-chevalier looked over to me, catching my eye and always just about to say something and yet he struggled to reveal the words. When finally we had both mounted our horses I was eager to set off and it was only then when my companion turned to me, finally ready to say what had been weighing on his mind.

Michel stroked the hair of his white horse’s mane, running his hand up and down the beast’s firm neck. Holding his reins tight, he refused to move on until he had had his say. ‘Cullen is not someone that will let you go unless it pleases him.’ warned the ex-chevalier ‘When you return to Skyhold, he will try to have you back like before. I cannot…’. Michel paused, looking mournful as he continued to pat his horse. ‘Ophelia I cannot bare seeing that happen again.’. Throwing his eyes to me, he added softly ‘Or to lose you again.’

My eyes darted to the man, embarrassed and ashamed. ‘Michel I…I was not telling you all that in an attempt to win you back!’ I remarked ‘By the blazes I know what you must think of me. And you have every reason to. I would never have presumed…no, no I never expected you to…. Michel, you sacrifice and you serve. Never have I seen such honour. I would never disrespect you now by expecting you to come back to me just because I’m stepping away from Cullen.’

‘You mistake my honour for personal affection.’ replied Michel devotedly, taking my hand in his ‘I am no honourable man, my motives were my own selfish ones. I did it all because I love you. I choose to stay because I could not bear living in a world without you by my side. Whatever you choose to do Ophelia, you will always have my sword and my heart as long as I live.’

Michel kissed my hand before leaning over to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. The knight lingered by my ear, whispering softly into it ‘Ne’emma lath, ma vhenan’ara.’

You are my love, my heart’s desire.

Turning my head, my lips met his and we fell into a kiss. Soft and sweet, with no guilt this time. A warm orange and almond perfume radiated from his skin, sweetly sensual as I breathed in his familiar scent. This time I knew where I wanted to be. Running my fingers against his, I squeezed his hand tight.

‘Ar lath ma.’ I replied, squeezing his hand again before letting it drop. ‘I know you are involved with Gwendolyn now. She will be waiting for you when we return, and I will not be the one to come between you.’

The ex-chevalier sighed, running his hands through his hair. ‘Gwendolyn.’ murmured Michel ‘It is true, she and I were involved back in Skyhold. Ophelia, I would not use this decision of yours to my own advantage. Your choice to distance yourself from Cullen should not mean you must come closer to me. If you chose to remain alone I would respect your wishes and nothing would change between you and I. Yet surely you must know who I truly want? It was I who initiated that kiss. It was I that walked into the woods last night and thought about that one sweet moment we had shared. One small moment that made me so happy that I was immune to the bitter chill in the wind and I entirely forgot to collect any wood. Yet such euphoria left me sad, for I knew it would be nothing more. To my shame Gwendolyn did not even cross my thoughts once.’

Looking up at Michel, I shook my head. ‘One kiss does not mean you have to ruin a chance with someone else. If Gwendolyn can make you happy you must hold onto that.’

‘You know why I was with Gwendolyn.’ remarked Michel softly ‘I am ashamed to confess what my heart knows is the truth. Knowing you and I could never be, I took another into my arms. Yet I know that I could not be with Gwendolyn now even if I wished it, for knowing how we both feel for each other I could not do to her what I did to Rochelle.’

‘If there was any happiness in that union then do not let me take that away from you.’ I appealed ‘You deserve someone so much better than I.’

The Orlesian looked dismayed by the words. ‘Ophelia do not say such things.’

‘No it’s true, well at least it is to me.’ I muttered ‘Look at me and look at you. I’m nobody and you were the head of your Order of Chevaliers. The Champion to the Empress of Orlais. Were I not the Inquisitor, you would not have even batted an eyelid if we had crossed paths.’

Michel looked annoyed, and even his horse stirred impatiently as if sensing his master’s displeasure. ‘If labels are so important to your self-worth then all I am is a knife-eared orphaned bastard without a shred of nobility to his name.’ pointed out Michel sternly ‘An alienage half-elf, too poor and tainted to have amounted to anything. For that is what most people would think. Is that what you think I am?’

‘Of course not!’ I replied defensively.

‘Then do not think you are lesser than me.’ warned Michel, grabbing my hands firmly into his ‘You are no lesser or greater than anyone else. You are perfect just as you are, and were I the Emperor of Orlais and you a filthy thief in the laneways of Kirkwall I would have fallen for you the moment I laid eyes on you.’. Michel shook his head with a smile, cupping my cheeks in his hands. Leaning over on his saddle, he planted a lingering kiss on my cheek. ‘I love you.’ he added fervently ‘Since the moment we met I have always only loved you.’. Nodding silently, the smile held on his lips. His sentiments were so true that even he could not help agreeing to it. ‘Ma’arlath,’ he added gently ‘if we are to do this right then-‘

‘-then we should go to Skyhold and tell Cullen and Gwendolyn.’ I replied in unison ‘Yes, let it be out in the open. Let us both do this the right way.’

Michel ran his hand across my arm, giving it an affectionate squeeze ‘Ar lasa mala revas.’

‘What does that mean?’ I grinned.

The knight threw me a smile, gently patting his horse. The mare suddenly began to move, as if knowing intuitively that Michel was ready to press forward.

‘It means you are free.’ replied Michel, looking more hopeful than I had ever seen him before.


	57. Holy Smite

The faithful had arrived at the final destination of their holy pilgrimage. Some had travelled days, others weeks, with the Chant of Light under their breath being their nourishment and the path before them their faith. The shuffle of eager feet moved steadily into the walled enclave of the Grand Cathedral, nestled in the middle of Val Royeaux. A great stone courtyard lay at the feet of the mighty Cathedral, which stood magnificently for all to behold. Tens of thousands had gathered, crowded shoulder to shoulder and yet peaceful in their coming together. Eyes lifted to the upper stain glassed arched windows of the Cathedral, and each pair knew there was hope.

The beacon of Flamme Sacrée had been lit, and only when a Divine had been ordained or had passed away did the faithful bear witness to the holy purple flame. Making silent signs of the Maker, the people were humbled and honoured. For they were the clergy of the devout, eagerly awaiting a glimpse of their new Divine. The one that the Maker had returned from the dead.

The blessed initiation of Divine Victoria had taken two weeks from start to finish, and for two weeks the Chant of Light had been performed in its entirety by a small congregation of the most devout. Hidden away in the private audience room of the Divine, where only the elite of the Chantry were permitted for this holy ceremony, the highest ranking in the Chantry stood before Divine Victoria, Her Left Hand, and Her Right. 

Dressed in a soft white robe embroidered with gold and purple thread, Leliana took her place on the Sunburst Throne. To her left sat a man with black straight hair in a deep purple robe, and to her right sat another man with sandy wavy locks wrapped in golden robe. Both looked straight ahead, emotionless as the hours passed by, pausing only to drink from the holy Chalice whenever it was ceremonially offered. The sweet scent of frankincense lingered heavily, smoky and rich, as the gold burners were swung by the Grand Clerics. Their monophonic melodic voices filled the quiet chamber, a sacred song sung in the tongue of the old, understood by few and yet the emotion was apparent to all. Tears filled the eyes of all upon hearing such a beautiful chant, and if there was a voice of the Maker then one could only assume it would have sounded like that.

Finally the toll of the Grand Cathedral’s two great bells struck thirteen times, announcing the end of the initiation. The deep chimes vibrated the stone foundations of the Cathedral, solemnly demanding the reverence of all. A call for the faithful to come together and rejoice.

A hooded figure of beige fell to their knees before the Divine, and then the entire room followed cue.

Long live Divine Victoria. Glory to the Maker. Long live Divine Victoria. Hallowed be thy name.

Before Leliana, the figure stood once more. ‘It is time, Most Holy.’ announced the woman, drawing her bell sleeve towards the entrance.

Gathering her wits in a deep breath, Leliana silently nodded, handing her ceremonial dagger to Jowan, and her holy book to Cullen. There was no time to seek encouragement from either, yet in that moment that was all she desired. Leliana felt fear and was filled with a dread that she had not entertained sine she was in the woods with Marjolaine all those years ago, standing before the wounded stag that she could not bear to kill. Was her fear a weakness or a strength?

Making her way through the audience room, her shoes loudly tapping on the marble floor, she proceeded outside the large gold double doors and onto the Grand Cathedral’s balcony. Her green eyes were overwhelmed by the sight before her as she weighed her hands against the white marble balustrade.

Tens of thousands of people stood below in the stone courtyard, all hoping to catch a glimpse of their newest Divine. A Divine that had been resurrected by the Maker himself, and one that had entertained his company. Never had there been such a prophet since Andraste herself. Their arms lifted upwards, as if willing to touch something that could never be touched. Dancing fingers praising the woman before them. They cried out in applause and cheer as they spotted Leliana at the balcony, the deafening roar crashing across the enclave and then simmering down as they eagerly awaited her words.

A cool wind swept Leliana’s ginger hair wildly about as she looked out across the group. Fiercely proud that a moment such as this would be entertained by someone such as herself, Leliana silently vowed the realm would flourish under her rule.

She was the shepherdess and these were her flock. She was the lioness and those that defied the Maker would be her prey.

‘My dear brothers and sisters. The faithful. The sons and daughters of the Maker. I am your new Divine Victoria.’

The crowd broke out into a roar of applause and cheer, the ground trembling from the vibration of their voices and stamping feet.

Leliana held up her hand and silence fell across the courtyard.

‘My death served a purpose for I stand here now, in flesh and blood. I stand here as living proof that the Maker has not forsaken us. He has not abandoned us as a punishment of our lack of faith. The Maker sees the evil we stand up against. He knows the trials we face, and he has returned to our side to fight this battle. We are not alone.’

Again waves of clapping and joyful shouting sounded, the excitement of the crowd uncontainable. Praise the Maker! Praise Divine Victoria! These were the words that would ease their fears, and more than anything these were the words that offered them reassurance. The Maker was by their side.

‘As I take my place here, I look out onto a realm that is dying before us.’ called out Leliana ‘Where death and suffering are abundant. There are those out there that would seek to tear us apart. The Maker says no more. No longer does he watch on in silence, and now we will see a new age. One of action. Ours is the power and ours is the glory.’

Leliana’s ears revelled at the approval of the crowd below as they applauded ferociously. Her green eyes burning with excitement, she turned to look at the purple flame of the Flamme Sacrée below. Thedas was falling apart and yet if it took her final breath, she would save the people. The Maker was by her side and no force would be able to stop them now.

Now her hand is drawn.

An arrow to pierce the sun.

With a dagger she defends the faithful.

Let chaos be undone.

****

‘Stop it.’ muttered Cullen, wrenching the golden robe over his head in frustration and flinging it to the ground. Irritably he grabbed his steel cuirass from the table and began to armour himself.

After a drawn out ceremony, the Left and Right Hand of the Divine had been directed into their own personal apartment, a place where they could reside when visiting Val Royeaux. For both of them, the chiming of the Grand Cathedral bells had never been such a welcomed sound, as the tedious ceremony was officially closed.

‘Stop what?’ replied Jowan in annoyance. The mage’s eye had discovered an intriguing bookshelf nestled at the base of the stairs in the room. Perusing the books on the shelf, he stopped at one in particular that caught his interest and plucked it from the shelf. ‘Stop breathing? Stop using my eyes? Stop thinking? That is about all I am doing at present.’

Cullen scoffed at the mage, eyeing him with more than a little disdain as he buckled his steel gauntlets. ‘From the moment we set off from the Griffon Wing Keep you have been seething with anger. Your quietude on the roads has now transformed into something a little more aggressive, Left Hand. Quite the change from the shivering little passive creature we pulled out from the Waking Sea.’

Jowan raised a brow, continuing to trail through the book before him and refusing to look at the Commander. ‘And that makes you feel uneasy, does it?’ he asked dryly ‘You, the head Knight-Commander of the Templar Order, feeling perturbed at the unamicable nature of a mere mage. Sounds a little insecure if you ask me?’

Unperturbed by the snideness of his companion, Cullen continue to dress himself before making his way to a small butlers tray laden with bottles. Lifting up a few to study, he raised his eyes in surprise at the generous collection before helping himself to one particular wine. Filling the crimson liquid to the very top of the lead crystal glass, Cullen eventually turned back to Jowan with an amused smirk.

‘So this how the Left and the Right will engage?’ inquired Cullen ‘With snide remarks and dry wit. I expect that from my recruits, but you and I need to be able to work with each other.’

Jowan continued to read for several minutes in silence as Cullen watched him like a hawk. Finally the mage looked sharply up from the book. Shutting the book abruptly, Jowan revealed a glint of anger in his eyes. ‘So you want friendly banter and comradery?’ remarked Jowan sourly ‘Well Cullen, you and I have known each other a long time haven’t we? Such memories I hold so very dear. Hasn’t life been spectacular?’

‘You blame me for your life then? Am I responsible for your questionable choices over the years?’ asked Cullen flatly, easing himself into an elegant Orlesian styled chair by the window ‘Was it me that forced you to study blood magic in secret at the Kinloch Hold? To run off and aid Loghain Mac Tir in poisoning Arl Eamon Guerrin? No Jowan, you did a remarkable job all on your own. Were it up to me I would have had you thrown in the cells at Skyhold, Lord Athalwolf Guildersleeve. Indeed I would have held you accountable for all the years you have entertained without a templar pulling you into check. Make no mistake, I would not wish to entertain friendly banter and comradery with a malificar such as yourself if my life depended on it.’

‘Are you beginning to see why I don’t like you?’ muttered Jowan, returning his book to the shelf.

‘We don’t have to like each other, just make sure it doesn’t get in the way with our roles here.’ warned Cullen ‘You have never be in a position like this, where every decision you make has a large impact on the lives of others. Your personal feelings must never be involved, and I suspect you are of a nature that finds it difficult to distance yourself from your emotions.’

‘Interesting words coming from your mouth.’ muttered Jowan, running his finger across several green leather volumes before stopping at one with a small tap. ‘From what I gather, your personal feelings are the only reason that you are here now serving Leliana.’

Cullen chuckled, taking a sip of the wine. ‘Oh this should be good.’ he observed in amusement ‘Come on then, out with it.’

The mage crossed his arms leisurely, turning to the smirking templar. ‘Leliana told me about you and her. The prophecy. Everything.’

‘Is this the part where I accidently tell you all my secrets because you claim to know everything?’ chortled Cullen ‘Yes Jowan, I’m sure Leliana told you everything.’

Jowan shrugged, turning back to the bookshelf. ‘She told me that twelve years ago you both entered into some holy union together that sounded remarkably like a wedding, not that we should be tied down by such trivialities I suppose. Nevertheless there is a prophecy that binds you both together it seems.’

Cullen looked up, half shocked that Jowan was privy to something he had considered private. Secret. Something he had not desired Leliana telling others.

With a wicked smile, the mage continued ‘Indeed Leliana told me that you were lovers. That you both remained committed to each other, stronger than ever as the years passed by.’. Jowan turned back to Cullen and narrowed his eyes. ‘Committed to the present moment when you are both to now fulfil the prophecy of the Maker. To conceive a child that will save Thedas. Quite the endeavour, wouldn’t you say?’

Cullen took several large gulps of wine, draining the cup entirely before meeting the smirking mage’s gaze. The templar looked furious.

‘It seems I have hit a sensitive topic.’ observed Jowan nonchalantly ‘Did you think the Left Hand would not be privy to such important information? Indeed I am hurt that you yourself did not tell me. Perhaps you could have done so the other day, back in the Griffon Wing Keep. Or was that difficult with Ophelia around?’

‘You know nothing about Leliana and I.’ interjected Cullen, reaching to pour more wine ‘It was no marriage, I can assure you of that much.’

Jowan flitted his hand in the air, as if spouting idle facts. ‘Yes but it was some sort of promise to conceive a child with Leliana when she became the Divine and you the head of your Order. Which if I am not mistaken is now? Married or not, you either lied to Leliana or you are lying to yourself. So, which one is it?’

The Commander looked unimpressed at the glib mage. ‘This has nothing to do with you. Leliana may think she can confide in you. We’ll see how long that lasts. Until then, keep your smug little observations to yourself.’

Jowan narrowed his black eyes in disapproval ‘Does Ophelia know of what the pair of you intend to do? I have little concern about your intentions Cullen, but once again it seems you are involved with someone I do care about. You should be careful.’

‘Is that a threat?’ remarked Cullen, looking deadly serious at the mage.

The mage remained silent, holding the anger of Cullen with a pair of amused black eyes. A smile on his face was all the answer the mage needed to respond, yet even Jowan could not resist playing with mice. His attention was unfortunately diverted too soon as the door swung open and a tired looking Leliana entered into the room.

Dropping her ceremonial hat on the chaise by the door, she threw it a look of disgust before turning towards her companions.

‘If I see one more beige robe and cream boot I am going to make it my life’s ambition to destroy the Chantry’s ceremonial garb.’ grimaced Leliana ‘No wonder the faithful leave the Chantry at times. What inspiration can one have with such ugly robes and shoes? And in Orlais of all places? It is a holy crime, no?’

With a small titter under her breath, she walked over to Cullen and gave him a pat on the shoulder, throwing a smile to Jowan as she looked over. Her eyes crossed from one stern face to another, and she sighed.

‘Let me guess,’ mused Leliana ‘neither of you are getting along?’

Jowan shrugged, turning back to study the tomes on the bookshelf ‘I was merely seeking clarification on the prophecy about the Maker’s child. Cullen appears to have made that topic off limits.’

‘Needless to say, next time you may want to rethink on telling Jowan all your plans.’ observed Cullen cynically, throwing an accusing glare towards Leliana ‘Private matters should not be divulged to untrustworthy blood mages.’

Leliana looked to Cullen in surprise. ‘Of course Jowan needs to know.’ she replied soundly ‘Everyone will soon enough know of the prophecy, if they do not know already. Divine Justinia knew about it, I assumed she would have made records of it somewhere in this place.’

Drawing to the fire, Leliana brought her hands close to the heat, her face clouded with troubles.

Jowan drew his hands into his sleeves, calmly stroking the purple material. ‘If I may inquire, do you both intend to have this child immediately?’ asked Jowan innocently. His black eyes fell to Cullen’s and revealed a spark of mischief.

Leliana’s green eyes darted to Cullen, who was intentionally not looking at her. The Commander instead threw a filthy look towards Jowan.

‘Why must you bicker like children?’ asked Leliana in frustration ‘We have so much ahead of us, and already you both are at each other. There is so much pressure in this role, I beg you both not to add to it.’

‘All I need to hear from Cullen is if that is what he intends to do now.’ remarked Jowan ‘Are you going to sire this child, Cullen?’

The Commander refused to answer, and Leliana turned towards Jowan darkly. ‘Jowan I wish to speak to Cullen in private.’

Seeing the templar’s morbid face, a satisfied smile grew on the mage’s lips. ‘Of course, I will be in the Chantry library if anyone should need me.’

With a skip in his step, Jowan smiled at them both as he closed the doors behind him.

More than a little irritated, Cullen arose from his chair and began to pace. ‘So now you are confiding in Jowan? Jowan?!!’

‘He of all people needs to know our plans.’ explained Leliana, drawing up to the templar. Extending her hand out to touch the man, she was surprised when Cullen pulled away.

‘There have been many years to contemplate this.’ muttered Cullen ‘I fear you will not want to hear my plans, but hear it you shall.’

Crossing her arms, Leliana waited silently with sharp eyes fixated on the templar.

‘Let me be straight with you. Your vision is ambiguous to say the least.’ observed Cullen ‘You saw me holding a child, but you never saw you yourself as the mother or indeed I as the father.’

‘Who else if not us?’ asked Leliana coldly ‘Did we steal a child? Was it that of the rose bush?’

‘Maker’s Breath how should I know?’ replied Cullen irritably. He looked angrily at Leliana ‘You conveniently forget the last discussion we had about this back in Skyhold. The one where I told you I was with Ophelia. Hear me now, I have no interest in having this child.’

‘Things have changed since then.’ retorted Leliana, looking down at the robes and then back at the man. ‘I was murdered and resurrected by the Maker….again.’

‘Yes another curious matter,’ scoffed Cullen ‘why the dickens did you ask your murderer to become your most trusted Left hand? Talk about a lack of judgement.’

‘Again, it was the Maker’s wish.’ replied Leliana sharply ‘We are not to question such things.’

Cullen raised an unconvinced eyebrow. ‘Jowan? Jowan of all people is the one the Maker has his money on. For crying out loud Leliana.’

Leliana looked furious ‘Cullen, I am the Divine.’

‘Then fulfil your role as the Divine for the people.’ shouted Cullen ‘Do not pursue something that may turn out to be nothing but a misinterpretation.’

Leliana scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘So you think you will sire this child without me? Perhaps with Ophelia?’

Cullen looked weary, rubbing the muscles in his shoulders. ‘What if there is no child? Have you asked yourself that? Maker’s Breath, you speak of a leader that will rule over Thedas? To bring the people back to the Chantry and the Maker’s side. Where does logic come into this plan? What of the qunaris? The elves? The dwarves? What of the races that do not believe in the Maker?’

‘What of it?’ retorted Leliana coldly.

Cullen sighed, waving her off in frustration ‘It is impossible to reason with you.’

‘So the answer is yes.’ remarked Leliana stiffly ‘You intend a child with Ophelia?’

The templar shook his head in disbelief ‘What I intend to do with Ophelia in the future is my own business. Whatever you and I shared, for as brief a moment as it was, is now long over Leliana. Even if the Maker himself asked me to do this I would refuse. Things have changed. With all the madness happening in the realm, and all the damn duties I have to attend to, there is no room to even think about introducing a child into the mix. And even if there was, it would not be with you.’

‘You have grown weak in your faith, that much is apparent.’ observed Leliana, her jaw growing rigid. ‘You, the head of the templars. Choosing one of the Maker’s fallen as a companion and now forsaking the Maker’s wishes. It is…sacrilegious.’

Cullen chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes at the comment. ‘Do not try to use my own prejudices against me in some feeble attempt to turn me away from Ophelia. Those are the words of a delusional zealot. Leliana take care.’. His face softened, his voice grew softer ‘Please my friend, I have seen many a leader fall because of their ego. No one is all knowing and invincible, you would do well to remember that. Do you not hear yourself?’

‘Do you not hear yourself Cullen?’ replied Leliana angrily ‘Did you not witness me dead, and now I am alive? Does that small miracle mean nothing to you? Nothing at all? You are my Right Hand and this is the dedication that you show to me and the Chantry.’

‘So Jowan was right? You intended for me to become a pawn in your plans, personally putting me in this position to shape to your own pleasure?’. Cullen’s amber eyes drew narrowly ‘It is not going to happen Leliana. If you desire to have this child, find another person to be the father.’

‘That is not how it works,’ she replied back in a dangerous voice ‘as you are well aware.’

‘Then the Maker will have to find another damn way to save Thedas.’ growled Cullen.

The pair locked eyes, both furious as they stared at each other.

‘So you are forsaking me?’ observed Leliana rigidly ‘After everything we have been through? All these years of hard work and sacrifice to be abandoned at a whim.’

‘Never have I forsaken you,’ replied Cullen coldly ‘my continued faith to your cause should put any question of doubt to rest. As a confidant I will serve as your Right Hand. As a templar, I will serve you as protector. However I will not serve you in any other way. Not as lover, or father to your child.’

Grabbing his sword and shield off the table, Cullen marched for the door. ‘No more delays, I ride out for Skyhold immediately. Too long have I entertained frivolous ceremonies whilst other pressing matters are ignored. No more, Leliana. No more.’

****

Trotting along the Imperial Highway, the midday sun shone down, warming us to the core. It was a relief from colder days, and everything seemed to flourish in the fertile Orlesian surroundings. Vineyards grew healthy and strong by the road, along with vast apple orchards and the occasional leafy strawberry patch.

‘Is this really where you want to be?’ I asked curiously, turning to Michel ‘I recall that you mentioned to Rylen about a vineyard in Orlais?’

The Orlesian chuckled, casting his eyes across to the grape vines on the side of the road. ‘A man needs his dreams.’ he observed pleasantly ‘Especially a patch of dirt, at the very least.’. Turning to me, he added fervidly ‘All a knight needs is to serve a cause that he believes in, and someone to love. I already have both of those.’. Breaking out in a mischievous smile, Michel looked extremely happy as his attention drew back to the road ahead of us.

Using all my willpower not to kiss the man right then and there, I breathed in the cool air and enjoyed the calmness of the moment. Michel’s happiness was my happiness, and I relished seeing him that way.

‘Perhaps it is not exactly how I would have desired life to be,’ added Michel ‘but then again, whenever is it?’

‘You want something different than Skyhold?’ I scoffed ‘What more is there to life than living, as Varric says, in the ass-end of Thedas?’

The ex-chevalier chuckled. ‘Varric describes it rather well.’

‘Do you miss Orlais?’ I asked curiously.

‘Of course,’ smiled Michel, turning his attention to the countryside before us with a fond expression ‘everywhere I travel in Orlais I am filled with memories that I hold dear. As a chevalier I travelled all over Orlais and I could easily tell you a cherished memory at each place I ventured. These lands will always hold my affections, but that does not mean I want to leave Skyhold. For now. One day I would like to live in my own manor as I did when I was younger. Some estate near Val Foret or Montsimmard, overlooking a lake and some extensive wilder lands. Close enough to enjoy the city, a small coach ride perhaps through the countryside and into the grand city of Val Royeaux, where one can get lost ambling through the chaos and elegance of the bourgeois and nobles.’

‘It sounds beautiful, but then I suspect you describing a dirty dish rag would encapture it’s own enchantment.’ I remarked in amusement, although oddly enough I also felt despondent. There was something about Michel’s dreams made me sad, as if I too wished to live a happy fairy tale ending yet something told me that my destiny would end in tragedy. An ominous and foreboding premonition that refused to leave me. ‘Do you think you would marry again?’ inquired inquisitively.

‘But of course!’ replied Michel, almost surprised at the question as he threw me a curious look. ‘I do not desire to live out my days alone in my manor.’ he chuckled ‘And I confess I am somewhat of a traditionalist at heart. It would be my desire to take a wife and look after her. Spoil her. Cherish her. I would hope one day to have my own family.’. Throwing me a warm smile, he noticed the dark look on face and Michel’s jovial expression somewhat diminished. ‘Do you not wish for such things one day?’

‘It seems like the unobtainable dream most days.’ I muttered.

‘Corypheus will be destroyed eventually, and the Inquisition will dismantle as the realm returns to how it was once before.’ pointed out Michel ‘There will certainly be a time for the unobtainable. What is your desire for the future?’

Looking unenthused, I waved off the question. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does to me.’ argued the ex-chevalier, drawing his horse to a halt. ‘What do you want in life?’. It was apparent the man was being serious. Michel looked at me intently, as if desperately trying to see within. ‘No more jokes or brushing off serious questions with banter.’ added the knight, playfully warning and yet quite serious.

Begrudgingly I decided to oblige. ‘Okay…I would…’. Pausing to think for several moments, I looked back to Michel. ‘In all honesty if I did not have a Corypheus to worry about or a Mage Order to establish, I would wish for a simple life. No drama or magic or templars or fighting.’

‘No Inquisition then?’ mused Michel.

‘Certainly not!’ I exclaimed ‘A family and a home where we could all live a happy and peaceful life together. A few mabaris perhaps? Oh and I always wanted to learn how to make my own jam.’

‘Jam?’ laughed the knight, highly entertained by the comment ‘Of all the desires I have heard from the lips of ladies, never has jam been mentioned.’

Pushing him in the arm, Michel chuckled in delight at my defensiveness.

‘It’s not a desire, just something I’ve wanted to do.’ I replied indignantly.

Michel continued to silently grin, biting his lip to supress his laughter.

‘Well the opportunity never presented itself in the mage circle at Ostwick, and Skyhold is too cold for strawberries.’ I added defensively, frowning to conceal my smile.

‘So to make strawberry jam is your life’s ambition?’ inquired Michel politely.

My eyes narrowed on the ex-chevalier ‘When I do get a chance to make some, remind me to make you the first taste tester.’

The Orlesian laughed, his voice merry. ‘Oh I must apologise in advance, we Orlesians enjoy marmalade over jam.’

‘Of course you do.’ I chuckled.

‘Where would you live?’ asked Michel, appearing quite glad I was finally talking openly to him.

Pausing to think, I finally turned to my companion with a knowing smile. ‘Ferelden or Orlais.’ I replied ‘Definitely not the Frostback Mountains, or the Free Marshes, or anything above there. It wouldn’t have to be special, a hut would do. One overlooking the ocean and a forest directly behind it. I wonder if such a place exists?’

Michel threw me a fond smile. ‘I am sure it does.’ he remarked. Directing his eyes up ahead, his posture suddenly grew rigid. Raising his gauntleted arm, he pointed into the distance. ‘Look there.’

Our attention was drawn up ahead to a large crowd yelling and protesting in the merchant’s square of Chambard, a small village situated on the outskirts of Halamshiral. The villagers seemed irate and all their venom was being projected towards a thin gentleman standing on the wooden platform before them. With an elegant brown and green pinstriped waistcoat and top hat, he seemed the odd one out amongst the dirty peasants before him.

‘Now hear me, hear me!’ he cried ‘The new shipping laws cannot be avoided at the present time. This is a matter of legislature and far from the influence of the Merchant’s Board of Southern Thedas. We have no power over the monarchy! Surely you see that?’

‘Bollocks!’ yelled out a shabby looking sailor ‘We’ve got cargo that needs to get to Highever or we’re bloody out of a job, ya prick! You tell the Fereldens to go fuck themselves, they don’t own the fucking sea!’

Half a dozen or so ayes sounded across the angry group, along with a few heckles.

The Orlesian gentleman looked somewhat irritated, realising his words were not going to be accepted by the unruly crowd. ‘This is an exceptional circumstance that has not occurred in twelve years. All I am saying is, please approach this time with an open mind. The law is the law, not matter where we come from, and at present you cannot cross Ferelden waters for any commercial purposes for the next nine days. It is a sign of respect.’

‘Respect this.’ cried out a man from the back, hurling a fish at the gentleman on the platform. The flathead landed smack onto his top hat and sent it spinning to the ground. A roar of laughter sounded as the man grew red as a lobster and stormed off the platform.

With a raised eyebrow, Michel and I looked at each in amusement. We had no idea what was going on.

‘I’m going to find out what is happening.’ informed Michel, dismounting his horse ‘Stay here and out of the line of fire of any fish.’. The ex-chevalier flashed me an entertained smile as he wove into the thick of the crowd.

My amused eyes ran across the people and suddenly my heart leapt with delight as I spotted someone I recognised close by.

‘Dryn!!!!’ I yelled out, quickly dismounting my horse.

The ex-pirate was arguing with another official looking gentleman. With sleeves rolled high in a white tunic, black pants and boots, and a scimitar secured by his side, he looked more like a seafarer than I had recalled. Turning his head, Dryn suddenly noticed me and he broke out into laughter.

‘Well, well, if it ain’t the Sparrow Inquis-it-a?!’ he cried out ‘By all that is great and good, what are you doing here? Got some qualm with these mugs also, eh? Well join the bloody cue.’. Lunging towards me, the tall ex-pirate wrapped a large arm around me in a friendly embrace.

‘It’s good to see you causing trouble still.’ I grinned ‘No doubt you’re behind whatever mischief is going on.’

‘Pfft I wish it were that simple.’ scoffed Dryn ‘A man’s gotta make a livin’ and the pricks here are makin’ that damn near impossible.’

‘Dock work not going so well?’ I asked with a frown.

The dark haired man sniffed in apparent displeasure, a wordless response that told me it was going bad. ‘Dock work ‘as been hard up the last few months, everyone goes to Hercinia to patch up their galleons these days. Cheap bastards prefer slave labour over solid Kirkwall craftsmanship.’

‘Never trust a Hercinian, they’re all split tongues.’ yelled out a red haired man, sidling up to us with a toothy grin ‘I hear those barbarians drink the blood of their dead.’

‘Aye Keets you don’t know the half of it mate.’ chuckled Dryn ‘Anyway Keets, Mad Dagger, me and a few other buggers at the port scrimmaged all the coin we had and got ourselves a rundown brig. Patched it up a treat and started tradin’ goods along the sea between ports. Was doing pretty well at also, well until this shite hit the roof.’

‘Fucking royals.’ spat Keets ‘They ponce around and do nuffin’ for ya when they’re alive, and when they’re dead they expect you to stop trade for fourteen days of fucking grievin’. I mean, they’re dead ain’t they? They ain’t gonna give a shite about whether we trade or not.’

Looking bewildered at the men, Dryn chuckled in reply.

‘You haven’t heard I’m guessin?’ he observed in amusement ‘Suppose the mail don’t get up that Mountain very fast. Queen Anora is dead.’

‘Dead?!’ I replied in horror ‘Why? How? What in the blazes happened?!’

The ex-pirate waved his hand ‘Aye not to worry Inquisita, ‘twas nothing to do with foul play. Apparently she caught a bout of the winter sickness that’s been going around these last few months. Bloody knocked about several of our crew about a month back, and half of bloody Kirkwall. Bodies were rotting in the street ‘cause the undertaker had no more room left in his warehouse. Nasty business, I’m telling ya.’

Keets nodded seriously ‘Thought Mad Dagger was going to kick the bucket, coughing up blood like there was no tomorrow.’

‘Aye if it nearly kills that soulless bastard you know you’re dealing with a bad bout of the sickness.’ added Dryn ‘I heard one of the guards say it was worse than the Hundred Day Cough of old.’

‘I had no idea.’ I muttered in disbelief ‘Makes one thankful to live like a hermit in the Frostback Mountains. But how does a queen get that sick? Were there no healers that could save her?’

Dryn shrugged ‘She’s a person ain’t she, just like you and me. We all get sick. Of course I know this much, when your time’s up, it’s up. My neighbour back in Asariel died of the consumption. Rich as a Merchant Prince, but even money wasn’t gonna save him at the end of the day.’

‘Health doesn’t dance to the clink of coin, that’s what my auntie used to say.’ agreed Keets, wiping his nose on his sleeve ‘You gotta eat your bone broth every day and stay away from cemeteries at night.’

‘True words.’ nodded Dryn, rubbing his arm where a black tattoo of a sword lay.

‘Besides no one really gives a shite whether the woman is alive or dead.’ added Keets ‘It’s all about what happens next.’

‘And with no heir,’ added Dryn with a chuckle ‘why half of bloody Thedas has swarmed to Denerim to claim that shiny crown. Even Corff’s sayin’ he’s the distant cousin of King Maverick or some shite.’

‘Corff with royal blood?’ I chuckled.

‘Aye and I’m a bloody archdemon.’ grinned Dryn ‘I asked him, if he goes to rule Ferelden, who in the blazes is going to run The Hanged Man?’

‘Varric.’ I remarked, half to myself.

Keets clicked his fingers ‘Aye that’s what Corff said. He pretty much gave up on the whole royal claim after that.’

Dryn chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Anyway we have a boatload of Kirkwall cheeses bound for West Hill. The moment we crossed over into Ferelden waters, a fucking clipper comes sailing towards us full speed. We were told to flog off and to come back after the mourning period.’

‘Ferelden’s shut up shop until then.’ scowled Keets ‘We were directed back here, along with a dozen other boats trying to trade down the coast. And then we get this crud bucket from the Merchant’s Board telling us there ain’t a damn thing we can do about it.’

‘What I wouldn’t give to be patching up a carrack and heading off to The Hanged Man in half an hour.’ muttered Dryn ‘Can’t even take the goods by wagon ‘cause all the fucking wagons have been claimed already by other merchants. An’ I hear if they get caught trading, they’ll get sent back also! Don’t suppose you lot up there need a boat load of cheese?’

Shaking my head, Dryn and Keets sighed.

Noticing the ex-chevalier approaching, Dryn nodded. ‘Guvnor.’

‘Well met.’ nodded Michel with a welcoming smile ‘I remember you from The Hanged Man.’

‘Hah!’ laughed Dryn ‘You and half of bloody Kirkwall mate! Ah but yeah, come to think of it you were with that stern lookin’ one that Sparrow here was telling to piss off.’

‘The very one.’ confirmed Michel pleasantly. Turning to me, he looked more serious. ‘Did you hear about Queen Anora?’

‘Terrible.’ I muttered ‘For more than one reason. Ferelden was our greatest ally, and who knows what will happen now?’

‘Let us hope our strong supporter Arl Teagan steps into the role, he is well respected in the lands.’ replied Michel ‘Either way, we should return to Skyhold immediately.’

Dryn grinned, roughing up my hair. ‘Any time you get sick of that poncy Inquisition come back to Kirkwall and we’ll get back into the pickpocketin’ business. You were one of the best thieves in Kirkwall.’

Michel chuckled at the comment, turning to mount his horse once more as I hugged Dryn goodbye.

‘If I ever need cheese, I know who to come to.’ I grinned, climbing onto my horse ‘Take care, the both of you.’

‘Bah, be off with ya before you get this pirate all teary.’ chuckled Dryn ‘Oh and one more thing. This Inquisition gig you got going, you get into some sticky situations I’m bettin?’

Michel nodded with a small smile ‘Unfortunately it comes with the territory.’

Dyrn nodded, rubbing his beard and looking a little emotional. ‘Ah well, you know, just make sure you don’t end up dead. Okay?’

‘I won’t if you don’t.’ I called back with a grin, throwing back a wave.

‘That there is good advice.’ piped in Keets with a knowing nod ‘Keeps me alive all the time.’

‘Well that’s the point, innit?’ replied Dryn, waving to us as we turned to ride off.

Galloping at a fast pace, Michel and I knew we had to pass through the Dales as quickly as possible. It was apparent a lot had happened since we had been away from Skyhold, and even more apparent that there was even more to do when we returned. Side by side we rode up towards the dreary mountain that for now we called home.


	58. Out With The Old

Breathing the fresh country air deep in his lungs, he paused for a moment to recall the memories of his childhood. Of sweet hay, heady livestock and syrupy notes from the rambling wildflowers that peppered the green grass. A flicker of contentment crossed over his face. Although not the first time that he had arrived back since living here as a boy, it was the first time he had returned and felt like he was finally home. With the moist red soil under his feet and the endless blue sky above him, Alistair could not have wished to be anywhere else but here.

_Redcliff Village._

Nestled on the western shore of Lake Calenhad, the peaceful village of Redcliff lay deep in the Ferelden Hinterlands. Fortunate in its location, situated between Orzammar and Orlais, Redcliff Village afforded an important mid location for trading routes by the merchants. This consequentially made the village quite prosperous and as a result the population grew steady over the years. With hunters, fisherman, farmers and merchants being the prominent types of trade, the village was ripe with produce at all times throughout the year. Indeed it was a not only a flourishing village, but also a picturesque one with tumbling red hills, lush forests and a blue crystal lake beside. The prominent Ferelden architecture was evident in the sturdy oak wood structures decorated with carvings of the hound and the endless knot, bringing a traditional southern hospitality to the village that people from all across Ferelden had grown extremely fond of.

Slowly leading his horse through the town, Alistair made his way past the blacksmith’s store. He recalled a time in previous years when he, Sierra, Zevran and Morrigan had stood before Owen’s door as it was barred shut. Zevran managed to convince Owen to open it, and when they did the entire smithy smelled like a cheap Antivan brewery. Alistair sighed wearily, pressing forward. It had been such a terrible time for everyone back then, and yet he would have done anything to go back to that moment right now.

Walking through the main square, Alistair passed the merchants that were busy trading in the late afternoon rush. Smoked trout and mackerel hung from the wooden stalls, and dozens of fresh round cob loaves lay ready to be purchased for supper. There were bowls of rich brown chestnuts filled to the brim, large sacks of golden grain and corn spilling over, and finely milled flour and almond meal. A feast of the gods; the spoils of the Hinterlands.

His brown eyes ran fondly across the square. Never had he seen such a thriving place, blessed with amble produce and good people. These were his people and this was his home. Once upon a time he had felt out of place here. Unwanted and angry, especially at Arl Eamon. Yet now, all of that resentment had….faded away. Alistair now knew where he belonged. He now knew who he was.

Ascending the stone shard path that led up the hills and across the bridge, the Ferelden rode towards where the mighty Redcliffe Castle resided. Galloping in through the large iron gates, he dismounted his horse at the base of the stone stairs leading up to the looming keep. As a boy Alistair would try and see how many steps he could climb at once, jumping up three at a time, and yet now it was effortless and not as curiously satisfying.

The guards at the gate nodded a friendly welcome as he passed, and Alistair returned the gesture before marching on ahead into the main hall. His armour rustled loudly as he took swift steps, turning sharp to his left and arriving into the main hall.

A man in his late forties, with red braided hair and a matching short red beard, sat at the head of the hall. He was entertaining a quiet discussion with several knights before the group turned their eyes to the intrusion. Upon seeing Alistair, the man sprung from his seat and moved forward to greet him, an excited spark presenting itself from his deep blue eyes.

‘At last you are here!’ he announced joyously, extending his hand in a warm welcome.

Alistair clasped the man’s forearm tightly, a small smile on his lips. ‘Teagan, it is good to see you again.’

Teagan pulled his nephew closer, drawing him into an affectionate embrace and gave him a sound pat on the back. ‘Alistair.’ he remarked fondly, pulling back to run his eyes over the Grey Warden. ‘My word, I swear you look more and more like Maric every time I see you.’

‘Pity I never knew him.’ replied Alistair, more than a little cynically. Raising a brow to his uncle, he added ‘So much effort to conceal his royal bastard and now it seems it was all for none.’

Teagan broke into a broad smile, his chiselled Ferelden jaw expanding wide ‘Then I assume this means…?’

Alistair threw a brief nod, and Teagan clapped his hands loudly in delight.

‘Excellent! Most excellent!’ he exclaimed merrily. Shaking his heading in disbelief, Teagan beamed at his nephew. ‘To be honest, I was convinced I was going to have to drag you onto that throne with my own bare hands.’ chuckled Teagan ‘When Eamon told me that he had sent you word about stepping into your rightful role I truly believed you would have refused. But you’ve proved your uncle wrong! Good for you! Good for you! Ah dear boy, you’ve made the right choice. I assume Eamon has mentioned that he has organised a Landsmeet in Denerim? Purely for show mind you. I don’t think there would be a noble in all of Thedas that would dispute your right to the Ferelden throne now. Ah but you know that brother of mine, like he always says; if you are going to do something make sure you do it right.’. Teagan chuckled, shaking his head with amusement ‘Your ancestors will be toasting your name as we speak.’

Alistair looked grim as his posture sunk and his eyes flitted away. Teagan’s smile faded as he noticed.

‘Alistair what has happened?’ asked Teagan hastily ‘Whatever is the matter?’

Alistair’s brown eyes looked melancholy, clouded with misery as he held his uncle’s concerned look. ‘Sierra was murdered recently.’ he answered darkly.

‘Murdered?’ exclaimed Teagan in confusion ‘Murdered by whom? Why? Maker help us all, who in their right mind would murder the Hero of Ferelden?!’

Alistair waved his hand, dismissing the question. ‘A coward that once knew her.’ he scorned ‘None of us expected it uncle, but I will have vengeance. Upon my life I will, that much I can assure you.’

With sorrowful eyes, Teagan compassionately clasped his nephew on the upper arm. ‘I am so very sorry Alistair.’ he remarked softly ‘I knew how much Sierra meant to you. If there is anything I can do…’

Alistair took a deep breath, running his eyes around the throne room. Evidently he was not yet conditioned to speak about Sierra’s death without the wave of emotion that followed. It was too much for the man, and he looked overwhelmed at the prospect of continuing to speak about Sierra.

‘Nephew give me a moment, I must speak to Clara about something.’ informed Teagan suddenly.

Sensing his grief and desiring to give him a moment, Teagan left Alistair and turned to speak to a nearby serving girl about bringing in an early dinner for the men. Finally the Arl turned back to the Grey Warden, who instead of appearing overwrought with emotion now looked comfortably miserable.

Alistair nodded silently in appreciation to Teagan, and the Arl smiled with a nod of understanding.

‘Come, you will take a meal with me tonight.’ insisted Teagan, directing Alistair towards the dining room ‘I dare say you and your men must be famished after riding all the way from the Western Approach.’

‘I came alone.’ muttered Alistair ‘This is no longer Grey Warden business.’

The Arl looked surprised, before his face grew stern. ‘Alistair you are the Warden-Commander and the next in line to the throne.’ informed Teagan seriously ‘Gone are the days when you can ride freely about the countryside without a proper escort.’

‘Then consider it my final ride.’ remarked Alistair gravely. Lifting his stormy eyes to meet his uncle’s, he added ‘You should know that I have stepped down from my title as Warden-Commander. My days in the Order are now behind me.’

‘Naturally.’ agreed Teagan, drawing two goblets of wine from the hands of the nearby serving girl ‘I don’t imagine the Grey Warden Order, or the kingdom of Ferelden, would want to see the king’s interest invested in both. There lies a certain conflict of interest, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Perhaps,’ muttered Alistair ‘although that is not the reason I stepped down.’

‘The Order will always remember you as being their most faithful member.’ reassured Teagan ‘You do not have to be a Grey Warden to know that.’

The men drew two heavy oak seats at the ornately carved wooden dining table and rested their tired bodies. After the first few sips of wine, Alistair began to relax and the lines on his forehead seemed less defined. He loosened his leather gauntlets and discarded them on the table, rubbing his forearms that were now aching from the long ride.

‘So Anora is dead.’ observed Alistair dryly ‘After all her struggles to keep the throne. The way she blackened my name in order to further her own claim, and at one point threatened my execution. To end up losing it all to a bout of the winter illness. Seems like poetic justice, wouldn’t you say?’

Teagan chuckled. ‘Just a little. Perhaps it is best we say what happened was tragic for Anora.’ responded Teagan ‘Eamon had sent me word before her death informing me what he suspected would be the inevitable. Anora burned with a fever for weeks and by the end I am told even if she had regained consciousness her mind certainly would have been addled beyond repair. A tragic ending to the daughter of Mac Tir. May she now join your brother Cailan’s side.’

The men both took a sip of their wine in a silent toast.

‘After all these years I lost hope that a Theirin would take the throne again.’ continued Teagan, a pleased look growing on his face ‘However we all knew you were always the rightful heir to the throne. The one that has the blood of kings running through his veins. The son of Maric Theirin.’

Alistair tapped the cup contemplatively, his eyes staring hard into the brass pattern etched on the rim. ‘Were it not for Sierra’s death I would not have done this, Teagan.’ observed Alistair seriously ‘Now everything has changed. The one person that meant everything to me is now dead. The one role that meant everything to me is now dead also. I cannot even bear the thought of continuing on as a Grey Warden, let alone acting as Warden-Commander. Too many memories were made over the years and now it is all too painful. Being a warden and being with Sierra came hand and hand. Now I cannot bear being surrounded by the memories of Sierra, and all those good times we shared with our fellow wardens. It’s funny, isn’t it? That those we love the most end up being the ones that we desperately want out of our minds when they have passed.’

‘It is often the way, for a while.’ replied Teagan gently ‘One day those memories will give you comfort my friend. I promise.’

Alistair took another sip of the wine, a bitter look on his face. ‘No I do not think that is true.’ he murmured ‘The memory of those that I have seen fall in the line of duty have never given me comfort. Their happy faces in former days before they were struck down never brought me peace. To this very day Duncan’s memory makes me cold on the inside. Another precious life ended too soon in one swift fatal act. Tell me Teagan, how many good people must die by the hand of evil?’

‘A question we have all asked ourselves at one time or another.’ acknowledged Teagan sombrely ‘I fear the answer myself when terrible acts continue to happen to good people, time and time again.’

Alistair ran his forefinger along the carving of the Ferelden knotted pattern on the table. It ran deep, and curled over and over into an eternal knot that never broke. ‘Then I will serve to make sure that it does not happen to my people.’ proclaimed Alistair adamantly, a proud determination in his eyes. ‘I always told Sierra that I never wanted to be king. That it was not who I was. And yet who else will protect these people if not me? Who else would I entrust to uphold this sacred duty if not me? I allowed Anora to take the throne and look where she has gotten us. Our men and women are encouraged to sacrifice their lives to a cause that has not come one step closer in defeating Corypheus. That blood is on her hands.’

Teagan sighed ‘The Inquisition faces a difficult battle, and one Thedas cannot allow them to fight alone and expect to win.’

‘Their judgement is flawed, Teagan.’ muttered Alistair ‘The Red Templars, those that serve as the army of Corypheus, are being saved as we speak by the Inquisition. Monsters that murder men, women and children wherever they go and leave their bodies to rot on spikes throughout the land. Food for the vultures. These are the horrors that the Inquisition are welcoming into their ranks.’

Teagan frowned, shaking his head ‘I do not think the Inquisition would not do that.’

Alistair threw his uncle a serious look. ‘A mage of theirs discovered some form of magic to release the templars from the hold of Corypheus and the red lyrium.’ informed Alistair ‘The saved red templars were being sent to Adamant Fortress up until recently, to be re-established as an Order of Templars. To my everlasting shame I was housing these monstrosities.’

‘With no trial? With no accountability to the people they murdered and the lives that they ruined?’ remarked Teagan in outrage ‘Where is the justice for the children we house in Bella’s Orphanage, whose numbers grow by the day as their parents never return home. What of all the dying crops that will provide no yield for the hungry Ferelden mouths come next harvest? We encouraged these men and women to go and serve at the sacrifice of everything. Where is the justice for them?’

‘There is no justice.’ muttered Alistair ‘Don’t worry, it gets worse. The templars were being housed at Adamant Fortress before they relocated to their new residence. Where do you think that is?’

Teagan shook his head, not knowing the answer. ‘Skyhold?’ he suggested ‘Some fortress out in the Dales?’

Alistair chuckled bitterly ‘The Tower of Ishal. In Ostagar.’

Teagan looked incensed, his fist landing hard on the table. ‘Ferelden land? They are housing red templars on Ferelden land?!’

‘Chantry land.’ corrected Alistair cynically, shaking his head ‘Another mistake of Anora’s, and one she kept remarkably well hidden. Gifting Ferelden soil to the Chantry, as if anyone has the right to break off our lands and give them away.’

‘This is an insult to Ferelden.’ remarked Teagan furiously.

‘I agree.’ muttered Alistair, nodding a thanks to the serving girl as she produced large plates of cottage pie and roast carrots for Teagan and himself. With a respectful curtsy she left the two men to themselves, and Alistair turned to his uncle with a passionate disposition. ‘These folk are the salt of the earth. They deserve better.’

Teagan nodded in agreement, placing his cup firmly on the table. ‘And you have the power to make sure they do.’

Alistair raised his brown eyes to Teagan, a glint of hope in them. ‘Then ride out with me uncle.’ he remarked ‘Be at my side as I stand before the Landsmeet in Denerim. Stand with me as I take the throne and become the next King of Ferelden.’

A proud expression grew on Teagan’s face as he beheld the man before him. Once a mere stableboy playing in the puddles at the Redcliffe Castle stables, yet now before him a great man that had come into his own. Alistair was more than just a Theirin. He was a warrior with a good heart. Finally Ferelden would be graced with an era reigned by a righteous and determined ruler with a kindness and compassion that others before him had lacked. Alistair would be the king that Ferelden desperately needed.

‘There is no other place I would rather be than at your side.’ professed Teagan with pride in his eyes ‘There is no place that I’d rather be.’

****

‘Well shit.’ chuckled Varric, shaking his head. Throwing a look of disbelief to a frowning Cassandra, he added uncertainly ‘Are you buying any of this Seeker?’

Gathered in the dank war council room, whose roof was still dripping from the recent storms, Michel de Chevin and I stood before Cassandra and Varric. After riding into Skyhold no less than a few hours prior, we had spent the passing time bringing the pair up to date with the events that had transpired over the last month or so.

Cassandra’s face had grown heavier with lines the further we delved into our account of events, whilst Varric’s on the other hand seemed to grow more amused. With pursed lips and a crease on her brow, Cassandra now looked displeased more than anything as she digested the news we had brought.

‘Bitterly Varric, I am buying this most bitterly.’ she replied ‘It is apparent that Cullen and Leliana have all but renounced their positions here. At least that much we can see without question.’

‘A few weeks back we get a message from the Chantry telling us Nightingale performed the resurrection trick and became a Divine. That was one thing.’ chuckled Varric ‘But Curly as her Right and Jowan as her Left? That has to be bullshit!’

‘We were as surprised as you are.’ I confessed ‘No one could have expected things to turn out the way they did.’

Varric shook his head in animated disbelief, as if appealing to our senses. ‘On top of that, have we all forgotten the awkward fact that Jowan was previously Athalwolf Guildersleeve, someone that managed to deceive the entire of Skyhold under the guise of an Orlesian noble?’

‘And nearly took my life.’ added Cassandra darkly.

Varric snapped his fingers at the Seeker ‘And then he turns around and saves your life. Blood and fire, get me the address to the closest publishing house.’. Toying with his gold necklace, Varric shrugged his shoulders. ‘So what’s next? Is Jowan joining the war council?’

‘No.’ replied Cassandra swiftly, throwing me a cautious look as if there was a chance I was going to confirm such plans. ‘Do not get me started on my opinion of allowing Jowan back into the Frostback Mountains, let alone into this keep. He will answer to me for what he has done. For now, we have more pressing concerns.’

‘Concerns?’ I queried.

The Seeker nodded solemnly. ‘I did not think a day would come when I would have to say we are going to need a new Commander of the Inquisition, and a new Spymaster, and a new Ambassador.’

‘They never said they intended to leave their positions here.’ I pointed out ‘Although how Leliana and Cullen manage to do it all is beyond me.’

Cassandra laughed bitterly ‘Do you know what work is involved in being the Right Hand of the Divine, let alone the Divine herself? Cullen and Leliana will not have a spare moment for the rest of their days now that they have chosen to follow this path. No. We need Inquisition members that are here in Skyhold. We need people to be ready to make important decisions at a moment’s notice.’

The Seeker seemed annoyed as she shuffled through some papers, and perhaps she had every reason to be. As the months had progressed, Cassandra had been given the unpleasant role of almost singlehandedly running the war council of the Inquisition. It was too much work for one person, and it was beginning to show on the lines of her forehead and cold glint in her dark eyes. Perhaps being nearly murdered in her bed didn’t help the matter, or the fact that her assailant was being welcomed by Leliana into the position of her Left Hand.

‘We need someone who is experienced in combat and war schematics. Someone that has a good rapport with the soldiers, and is an exceptional warrior themselves.’ continued Cassandra. Raising her eyes to Michel, the Seeker nodded at the ex-chevalier ‘Michel, you know who I would suggest to take over the role of Commander of the Inquisition.’

With a flash of blue and green, Michel and I threw each other an uneasy look. We both already anticipated the reception that such an acceptance would bring, and it was not pleasant.

‘Cassandra.’ I interrupted hesitantly ‘Surely you know Cullen would never accept that?’

Varric chuckled, amused at the prospect. ‘Curly would be on the warpath of all warpaths.’

‘It is not up to Cullen to accept it.’ replied Cassandra shortly ‘If he cannot do his job then we will find someone who can.’

Michel ran his hand through his blonde hair, taking a deep breath as he turned his eyes to meet the Seeker’s. Torn between duty and loyalty to his Commander, it was clear he was not convinced with the Seeker’s proposal. ‘To claim Cullen’s position would send the wrong message out to the soldiers and to Cullen himself. It could cause more problems than we encounter already. Cassandra, although my duty lies wherever you see fit, I would not wish to add further tension to an already tense situation.’

‘You and me both kid.’ added Varric ‘Although it seems the Seeker wants to add a bit of spice to the war table.’

‘I have bigger fish to fry.’ replied Cassandra dryly ‘Were Cullen and Leliana’s jilted egos my only concern I would be exuberant right now.’

Varric shook his head at us, as if silently telling us that Cassandra wouldn’t, or couldn’t, ever be exuberant.

‘Meanwhile Corypheus has been spotted with that dragon in the Emerald Greaves. Not less than two weeks ago.’ frowned Cassandra ‘Our only concern should be Corypheus. Not the Chantry. Not the templars. And Leliana and Cullen should be here at this table right now helping us with the Inquisition’s next move.’

Pinching my lip, I knew we all agreed.

Michel suddenly looked up at us, a smile on his face. ‘Every play needs an understudy, does it not?’ he observed ‘Let us arrange a council to act in the same capacity, when Leliana and Cullen are away. I would be more than honoured to fill the role of Commander of the Inquisition when Cullen is required to attend to other responsibilities. When he and Leliana return to Skyhold, their title is theirs once more. That way we secure more expert opinions in this room, whilst at the same time avoiding any hostility.’

The Seeker’s stern expression softened at the proposal, a pleased curl forming on her lips. ‘A very good suggestion Michel.’ acknowledged Cassandra. Turning to me, she added ‘Ophelia, what do you say?’

‘It makes sense.’ I agreed ‘Although who could act as Spymaster or Ambassador is beyond me.’

‘I gotta say…I know people.’ chimed in Varric.

‘No.’ replied Cassandra sternly, producing a chuckle from Varric.

The dwarf raised his hands in the hair, trying to placate the woman. ‘Now, now I’m not saying I want to bring some rat from Darktown to become the next Spymaster. You know me Seeker, I’m a practical thinker. We need two war council roles to fill yesterday, you catch my drift? We need to work with what we have here.’

‘You think we already have these people in Skyhold?’ I asked in surprise ‘Who?’

‘Okay, here’s the thing!’ replied Varric quickly, taking a step closer to us all as he rubbed his hands excitedly. ‘We need someone who knows every toff-nose across Thedas and can rub shoulders with them without wanting to hurl. Now I don’t know about you, but there is one fancy Orlesian lady in this keep that fits that roll pretty damn well.’

‘Vivienne.’ remarked Cassandra, half intrigued and half sceptical of the suggestion.

‘She relishes politics and playing the game,’ pointed out Michel ‘and has made it her duty to know every noble in Orlais. I dare say it extends to every noble in the lands. There is a reason she is referred to as The Lady of Iron.’

‘Precisely, Goldilocks!’ grinned Varric ‘A perfect ambassador right there, ready to start tout de suite. However we also need a spymaster, right? A sleuth. An agent provocateur. Someone who knows the rougher side of the streets, has their eyes and ears already planted around the place and can start the job right away.’

‘Sera?’ I suggested with a frown ‘Were you thinking her connections with The Red Jenny is something we could use further?’

‘Heck no! That cannon’s a bit loose, if you catch my drift.’ observed an amused Varric ‘Guess again.’

The room looked confused, unable to guess who Varric was referring to. The dwarf remained silent, a large smile stretching his broad jaw.

Suddenly it dawned on me. Raising my brow at the grinning dwarf, I grinned back at him. ‘Would this potential candidate be the author of Swords and Shields by any chance?’

Cassandra darted her eyes to the rogue. ‘You?’ remarked Cassandra, half convinced and half unconvinced ‘What eyes and ears do you have outside The Hanged Man?’

Varric laughed as he grabbed a quill off the table and threw it playfully at Casandra. She grinned, trying to supress her own laughter as she eyeballed him.

‘Ah Seeker your words wound me, as always.’ chuckled Varric ‘However unbeknownst to many this dashing rogue has many, many less than reputable connections across Thedas. Why this gorgeous dwarf before you has many agents of his own. Maybe not a list as large as Nightingales, but nevertheless a decent one at that. Comes with the territory of being a Tethras.’

‘So you and Vivienne would work as Ambassador and Spymaster?’ I remarked doubtfully ‘You do realise it is all work and no pay rise?’

The rogue clapped his hands in excitement. ‘But what about the glory, eh Inquisitor?!’ he chuckled ‘Let’s face facts here! You kids are sailing towards the cliffs, and if me, Goldilocks and the Iron Lady don’t steer you clear you’re all doomed. It’s the right thing to do. Come on Sparrow, what do you say?’

Cassandra, Michel and I looked each other, blank expressions that instantly turned into a unified smile. Chuckling, we shook our heads and looked back to the merry rogue who awaited our reply with his arms comfortably crossed over his chest.

‘Welcome aboard Spymaster.’ announced Cassandra, outstretching her hand to shake Varric’s. With a grin, he tightly grasped her hand and shook it. After several shakes, Cassandra pulled her hand closer towards her whilst still holding onto Varric’s. ‘Don’t mess this up.’ warned Cassandra, a smile on her lips ‘And yes, that is a threat.’

‘For you Seeker, I wouldn’t dare.’ promised Varric, throwing her a wink ‘Maker knows I’m terrified you.’

Michel and I grinned at the pair, who smiled into each other’s eyes as if they were the only two in the room. Perhaps we were not gathered in that room on the most happy of circumstances, but at times like these it felt like there was a promise of better days ahead.


	59. And In With The New

_Thwack_!

Her dainty Orlesian hand furiously slapped against the knight’s steel breastplate, sending a searing sting into her palm. She pulled away with a flinch, shaking her hand in pain.

‘You lousy Orlesian swine!’ the woman cried out, sweeping back her brown hair indignantly before spitting at him. ‘You told me that you desired me. Cared for me. Father asked me to come with him to Verchiel for supplies and I said no because I wanted to see you when you returned. I waited all this time for you to come back, and for what?! To hear you say you no longer wish to be with me?!’

Gwendolyn’s beauty was breathtaking, but her anger appeared even more so. With large blue eyes, dimpled cheek and a pretty upturned nose, the woman appeared enchantingly wild before the ex-chevalier.

‘I am sorry Gwendolyn,’ he apologised ‘for the upset I have caused you. It was never my intention.’

Michel remained respectively calm, taking in her anger and allowing the woman to say her piece. It was the least he could afford Gwendolyn after telling her he no longer desired to be with her.

The Orlesian woman paced around the small dining room in the Herald’s Rest, one residing on the upper level that afforded a view of the courtyard below. The table had been laden with freshly roasted venison and potatoes, ready for a long awaited dinner between the pair. A dinner organised by Gwendolyn before Michel had had the chance to tell her it was over.

Hands on her hips, she glared at the ex-chevalier. ‘Well who is she?’ asked Gwendolyn sharply in her thick Orlesian accent ‘No man leaves a woman unless he has another whore waiting on the side. What strumpet is on your side? One of the washing maids? That tarte from the kitchens that wears red stockings?’

The knight shook his head silently, eyes lifting his genuine deep blue into hers. ‘Gwendolyn I will not lie to you. You know that I was once involved with the Inquisitor.’ he explained gently ‘I have never stopped caring for her, and that means-‘

‘_Je m’en fous!_’ scorned Gwendolyn in Orlesian, growing more angered upon knowing her suspicions had been confirmed. ‘I know exactly what that means! Tell me, how long before your boudin tires of her, huh? I will not be here when you realise you have made a mistake.’

With tears in her eyes she ran up to the knight, pressing her soft cheek against his breast. Michel wrapped his hands around the woman, embracing her in an attempt to console her. Yet Gwendolyn seemed to misinterpret the gesture, suddenly running her hands up to his golden locks and fondly rolling them around her fingers.

‘Let us retire for the day, _mon cher_.’ she whispered ‘I have some new Orlesian stockings I could wear for you. _C'est magnifique_! You would like that, no?’

Michel gently pulled away, a small pursed smile on his lips that told her that he would not like that.

‘I am sorry but I cannot.’ he replied softly.

Gwendolyn’s sweet expression transformed into hatred as she shoved Michel angrily in the chest.

‘_Casse-toi_ Michel!’ she yelled at him, storming out of the room with a huff.

The knight remained steadfast as Gwendolyn passed by, slamming the door behind her. The china plates rattled on the table and the mounted picture frames on the wall tremored. Michel sighed in relief, enjoying the blanket of peaceful silence that now fell across the room.

_Finally it was over._

Sitting down at the table, he reached for an apple and took a large bite of the sweet fruit. His eyes trailed out the window into the courtyard below where he suddenly spotted Gwendolyn again, storming across the cobblestones and away into the night. With a shake of his head, he turned away. It was not just Ophelia that was aspiring to a life with a less capricious partner. The knight longed for his one true love, whose tenderness was sweet and as soft as a petal. A love formed in friendship, service and companionship, one of hidden desire that could now bloom into an open union. A vibrant love the world could bear witness to without shame. There would be no more betrayal, or lies, or death. Only the simplicity of true love. For in the end, that was all that truly mattered.

Michel knew what had happened with Gwendolyn was just another brief unpleasant moment in an otherwise glorious future that awaited.

Of course for now, however, he had to wait…

****

A magnificent eight horse-drawn Orlesian stagecoach, gilded in bright ostentatious gold, rolled along through the Dales along the Seran Forest Trail. Four elegantly dressed postilions drove the vehicle upfront, whilst six regal footmen remained behind, and an escort of twenty templars who formed the Yeoman of the Guard rode alongside.

Every now and then a merchant in passing would stop to gawk at the opulence of the entourage, hoping to catch a glimpse of the figure who resided inside. Surely it had to be the Empress herself, or some outrageously wealthy noble, heading out on some marvellous adventure? The wide eyed stares from the passers-by grew less and less the further the stagecoach travelled through the forest, until it’s only audience were the deer and rabbits that leapt alongside the trail.

Jowan looked idly out the window; his black hair limp, his skin deathly pale and his dark eyes bored. The unenthused expression reflecting on the glass caught Leliana’s attention as she looked over to the mage.

‘You don’t seem eager to return to Skyhold?’ observed Leliana, a friendly smile on her face ‘I suppose it pales in comparison to the grandiose settings of the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux?’

‘On the contrary.’ replied Jowan, shifting irritably in his seat as his thoughts were disturbed ‘The sooner I can return to the tower, the sooner I can return to what I was doing before…’. The mage’s black eyes flickered towards Leliana briefly before turning back to the window ‘…before I was diverted from my work’.

Leliana frowned ‘Your role as my Left Hand is not a diversion, Jowan.’

The mage sighed, waving his hand at her in acknowledgement. ‘I know, I know. You know what I mean. It has been a long time since I have seen the mages and they have been in my thoughts ever since I left.’

‘Then why the long face?’ asked Leliana, tilting her head curiously ‘You will be reunited soon. And it is not you that will be inundated with questions and disbelief. The Divine arriving at Skyhold. Nothing will be the same again.’

Turning his attention away from the window, Jowan looked troubled. ‘You forget that it is my first time in Skyhold, and I intend to take over the role of someone that was trusted and well-liked by the other mages. My colleagues…my friends, all will look at me without recognition and no doubt with a little disdain. For I am the stranger that will be replacing Athalwolf Guildersleeve while he apparently has forsaken all that he promised he would never forsake to go off and attend to other matters. My arrival will only be met with disappointment I’m afraid.’

‘Yet knowing what could have happened, surely the hand you have been dealt is one of considerable fortune.’ pointed out Leliana ‘You have fresh start at life, free from the repercussions of the templars.’

Jowan sighed, turning his attention back to the trees and templars outside the carriage. ‘Leliana have you looked outside the window lately?’ he muttered.

The spymaster chuckled, leaning over to draw shut the curtains on both their sides. ‘They serve you now. They respect you now.’

‘They will never respect me.’ responded Jowan darkly ‘They have little choice but to respect the title, but the fear in their eyes in apparent enough. And what you fear you cannot respect.’

‘Isn’t that what respect is?’ mused Leliana with a curl on her lip.

‘No.’ replied Jowan shortly.

Running her hands across the red velvet cushion beside her, Leliana grew contemplative in her silence. ‘You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders Jowan. Yet you forget that you are one man and you are not to be blamed or expected to fix everything in the realm.’. With a fond chuckle, she added ‘You and Cullen are more alike than either of you would ever care to admit.’

‘We couldn’t be more different if we tried.’ muttered Jowan ‘Yet we both are guilty of darker days. We both have coddled and cosseted death over the years. Perhaps if I gazed into the looking glass back in my cave in The Nephilim Realm and thought of such things, maybe the numen would reveal an image of Cullen and I. Two twisted creatures, mage and templar, melted into each other and shaped into the horrific form that we have become through the blood on our hands and the taint on our soul.’

Leliana looked irritated at the comment. ‘Then you do not know Cullen, or yourself.’

‘Doubt the shadow on the wall. Dread the raven’s knowing call. Despair the archers from afar. But fear most of all what you truly are.’ cited Jowan, casting a baleful look at Leliana.

‘I recognise that.’ she smirked ‘You have heard of the bard Aeolis sing Darkfeather?’

The mage nodded ‘A long time ago in a dingy tavern in Cumberland, yes.’

‘All that we are doing is for a greater good.’ reassured Leliana, casting her green eyes to him ‘We must remember that. Aeolis’s song speaks of something different. Darkfeather calls into question the essence of one’s soul. That the biggest fear we should have is not in the outside world but of our inner selves, for that is where the true evil of the world was born.’

‘Precisely my point.’ Jowan remarked darkly.

Drawing back the curtains, the mage gazed out into the emptiness of outside.

Leliana grew quiet, her lip almost sinking into a sad curl. In silence they remained and Jowan relished the moment until the annoying irritation of compassion began to distract him. With a small sigh under his breath he turned to the woman once more.

‘You seem disheartened.’ Jowan observed, noticing the moist eyes of his companion.

Leliana blinked her teat filled green eyes, quickly turning away to look out the window and conceal what dismay she was harbouring on her face. ‘Curse long trips,’ she replied with a bitter laugh ‘they force you to reminisce on days long gone by.’

‘The past is best left there.’ advised the mage ‘There is no benefit in reflecting on things you cannot change.’

Leliana shook her head, grabbing a cushion and hugging it tight against her chest. ‘I would not change those memories for anything in the world.’ she whispered ‘I was thinking about Cullen when we were together in Greenfeel and how much he…’. With sadness in her voice, Leliana choked on her words, growing quiet once more.

‘You love him, don’t you?’ observed Jowan in a soft voice. Although his dislike for the Commander was evident, Jowan did not relish in the sadness of the woman before him. One that he had already treated so cruelly in former days.

‘It is so silly.’ remarked Leliana sadly, wiping the tears from her eyes ‘Cullen is the type of person that when you are around him, when you are with him, the whole world ceases to exist. Even after so many years my heart still skips a beat when I see him.’

‘I can’t say I’ve personally experienced that.’ mused Jowan, a small curl on his lip as he looked to Leliana.

Leliana laughed, shaking her head. ‘We were so happy back then, just the two of us, for a while at least. Looking back now I realise I pushed him away, especially this last year.’. She sighed, looking ashamed of herself ‘It is my fault for losing him. All Cullen ever wanted companionship and security, and I told him to leave for Kirkwall and not to wait for me. It was heartless. And now the more it seems I chase Cullen, the more he pushes me away.’. Turning her eyes to the mage, she added sadly ‘Have you never experienced such a thing with someone?’

‘Not how you describe it, no.’ replied Jowan. His black eyes, large and honest, drew in the woman’s attention. ‘Leliana I am no expect in love.’ he confessed ‘All I know, from my experience, is that true love should not be something that you chase after. If it is that much of an effort to keep Cullen’s affections then he does not love you.’

Leliana’s face fell into tragedy, her lip quivering at the words.

Jowan sighed, raising a hesitant hand to pat the pillow she was desperately clutching. ‘And Cullen does not deserve you.’ he added ‘There must be some part of you that sees that? I cannot claim to know you well, but from what I have seen deep down you are a good person.’

Leliana scoffed at the comment, disbelieving it.

Jowan shrugged. ‘Those words coming from someone with a faultless character may deserve your disbelief. However I am well aware that I am not of that caste. I recognise darkness and evil when I see. The selfish ego and the narcissist endeavours of many, their actions justified by the righteousness of their cause. The Josephine’s of the world. That is not you.’

‘I’ve acted just as bad as she.’ remarked Leliana guiltily ‘This horrible jealousy consumed me, seeing Cullen and Ophelia together. It was detestable, me treating him as if he were my possession. Expecting something from Cullen that he was unwilling to give. By Andraste, the way I demanded it to him as if I was somehow entitled to his offspring.’. Sweeping her ginger hair back, her eyes looked wild ‘Jowan I am exactly like Josephine!’

Jowan chuckled, shaking his head. ‘No Leliana, believe me you are nothing like Josephine.’ the mage responded soundly ‘When Cullen told you back in Val Royeaux that he would not sire this child, you were upset but you finally accepted it. If you were like Josephine you would be plotting right now as how to trick Cullen into your bed. Perhaps asking me if I could change your image into that of Ophelia? Or simply creating a potion of lust to put into his daily meals.’

‘I would never do what she did to that poor man.’ Leliana murmured sadly ‘It still does not mean I am a good person.’

‘To me you are.’ replied Jowan with a small smile ‘In fact, you have only shown me compassion since we met. Whether you agreed with Sierra or not, it was you that released from the Redcliffe Castle prison all those years ago. You spared my life when Isolde certainly would have claimed it.’

‘I nearly shot an arrow through you back in your hut.’ observed Leliana dryly.

Jowan raised his brows. ‘Well, let us call that a momentary lapse of judgement.’ he replied with a smirk. ‘And even…’ Jowan paused, his eyes dropping apologetically ‘...even when I took your life in Skyhold you somehow managed to forgive me. I know it takes an incredible heart to do that. So I appeal to you Leliana, do not waste that heart on a man like Cullen.’

Leliana grew quiet as considered the advice, sad and poignant yet a little more calm. Finally she threw an appreciative nod to the mage, taking a deep breath and exhaling in release.

‘Thank you Jowan.’ Leliana murmured ‘You do not know how much I needed to hear those words.’

****

The sound of loud chatter filled the main hall that morning as I rummaged about for a cup of tea and a bannock amongst the other hungry mages and soldiers. Elevenses was not the calm affair a brunch was supposed to be, with shoving and elbowing to get the least burnt baked goods being the prominent aim of the hour. Madame Ruthie ruthlessly ensured that there was never enough to go round, claiming that too much morning tea ruined one’s appetite for lunch. Her attempts, however, only resulted in a daily lesson being learnt over and over again; that the bird with the fastest hands and the sharpest elbow got the worm.

Strangely enough the pushing and shoving settled down somewhat as I made my way to the throne, and the hall grew quiet as a man suddenly appeared at the entrance. With hushed whispers and murmurs of curiosity, many stood aside and some bowed their head in respect, while others simply stared on in awe.

Commander Cullen had arrived back at Skyhold.

Head of the Inquisition army, Right Hand to the Divine and head of the Templar Order, his high ranking positions had now elevated the man into almost godhood. The respect was evident, and as Cullen made his way through the hall the people humbly cleared a path for the Commander and smiled warmly as he passed by.

Cullen remained serious, but patted the arms of a few in appreciation as he pressed forward. His armour rustled loudly as he moved, as did his heavy steel sabaton’s that tapped on the worn wooden floor of the main hall. Running his eyes over the crowd, Cullen finally spotted me watching him from at the back of the hall. His face brightened and mine grew pale as he approached.

With a fond embrace, Cullen wrapped his heavily armoured arms around me in passionate welcome while I uncomfortably held a steaming cup in one hand and piece of flat bread in the other.

‘The Chantry sends it’s love.’ mused Cullen, rolling his eyes as he broke off some of my bannock ‘Maker’s Breath. Two weeks of hymns and breathing in smoky tree resin. I wasn’t sure whether boredom or the fumes would have been the death of me.’. Turning his eyes to the people chattering once more behind him, Cullen scoured the room in pleasant curiosity. ‘Interesting reception, wouldn’t you say? Can’t say I approve to be honest. It shouldn’t take one man being Commander, Right Hand and Knight-Commander to gain the respect of a hall but there you have it.’. Cullen chuckled, as if amused more than disheartened. ‘So what news does Skyhold fare these days? Anything happen since I’ve been away?’. Turning back to me, he raised a disapproving brow ‘Apart from the fact that you once again did not follow orders. Master Dennet informed me that you were in Skyhold when I expected you to be back at the Griffon Wing Keep.’

Throwing him a frown, I shifted uneasily in my stead ‘Cullen we need to talk.’

Noticing my solemn disposition, Cullen sighed. ‘Maker’s Breath, already?’ he muttered ‘What has happened?’

‘We should talk somewhere more private.’ I encouraged, drawing my arm towards my chamber door.

‘Here will suffice.’ replied Cullen sternly ‘Enough dancing about the topic. What has happened?’

My eyes ran around the man, my hands clasping uncomfortably together. For weeks now I knew I had to tell Cullen what I had done and yet nothing had prepared me for the moment.

Cullen looked impatient. ‘Ophelia!?’

‘Alistair brought an army of Grey Warden’s to the Griffon Wing Keep.’ I explained quickly ‘After you left he returned each day, with more and more soldiers.’

The templar’s brow grew heavy and his face grew stern. ‘That intimidating bastard.’ growled Cullen, looking more and more furious ‘Did they attack you? How many were injured?’

‘The siege was inevitable, we all knew that.’ I replied dismally ‘Rylen, Michel and I were forced to make a decision. We…we did it to spare the lives of everyone in the Griffon Wing Keep. You know our numbers do not match the Grey Wardens at Adamant Fortress. It would have been a slaughter.’

‘What did you do?’ asked Cullen quietly and more than a little uneasily.

‘I rode out and told Alistair where to find Sierra.’ I replied solemnly ‘Michel and I searched the marshlands with him and retrieved her body.’

Eyes growing wide in fury, Cullen’s frame seemed to triple in size. ‘You what?!!’ he remarked heatedly ‘You told Alistair about my involvement, and then took him to find her body!?? Have you lost your fucking mind?’

Grabbing his hands desperately to placate the man, I interlaced my fingers through his. Cullen wrenched them away from me furiously, causing me to step away a few paces.

‘Cullen please.’ I begged ‘There was no other way to prevent the battle at our doorstep.’

‘So you threw me to the fucking wolves to appease that pleb?!’ hissed Cullen, lowering his voice but maintaining the anger in it ‘Do you think everything is fine now that Alistair knows of my involvement in Sierra’s death?’

‘For crying out loud he already knew before I had even said a damn word!’ I replied angrily ‘Hence why Alistair was about to knock down the bloody gates at the keep. You rode off and left us in an impossible situation.’

Cullen swiped the hair from his face in agitation, pacing alongside the stained glass windows as he gathered his thoughts. Thankfully the man seemed to settle after a few minutes.

‘Curse the fucking Chantry, I should never have left you all behind.’ he muttered ‘But Ophelia, what you did was so incredibly reckless. Alistair could have murdered you as payback. An eye for an eye?’

‘He could have done that to me and the entire Inquisition at the keep if he wanted to.’ I replied darkly ‘Like I said, you left me with little choice.’

The Commander looked away, a frown on his face. It was apparent that he agreed with my sentiments yet was finding it hard to admit it.

‘Alistair wants revenge, he said that much.’ I added.

The templar looked up at me sharply ‘What did he say?’

‘He implied that he would take away the one person that you held dear.’ I answered flatly, looking at him with a little disdain.

‘…and yet here you are still alive?’ remarked Cullen in confusion.

‘Leliana.’ I replied darkly.

Cullen scoffed at the answer, half believing I was joking. As my serious expression remained, Cullen began to realise that I was telling the truth. ‘Truly? He said Leliana?’ he remarked in surprise ‘Well good luck to the idiot. Leliana has more bodyguards than Empress Celene. Somehow I don’t think one man is going to be a match for a Spymaster with the protection of the Chantry and Templar Order behind her.’

‘There’s more.’ I added quietly.

Cullen frowned as he analysed my expression. ‘You’re angry at me?’ observed Cullen shortly, sweeping his sandy hair back off his face ‘Maker’s Breath Ophelia, I just got back!’

‘I’m not angry.’ I replied, somewhat so ‘Indeed this decision was not made in anger.’

‘Decision?’ echoed Cullen, crossing his arms as a smirk formed on his face. He now seemed more amused at my sombre demeanour, and it did not help me in the slightest. ‘I recognise that look.’ he remarked with narrow eyes ‘Tell me, how is Michel de Chevin?’

My heart skipped a beat, wondering what Cullen was implying. Or how he knew? Did he know?

The Commander looked seriously at me. ‘Ophelia? What happened when I was away?’ he asked suspiciously ‘Several weeks alone with that lascivious Orlesian and now you have come to a decision. Dare I correlate the two?’

‘This has nothing to do with Michel.’ I replied angrily ‘This is about you and I.’

Cullen groaned, looking up to the chandelier above before drawing his amber eyes sternly to me. ‘Did you lay with him? Is that what you need to tell me?’

‘What?!’ I replied sharply ‘No!’

‘Well what then?’ pressed Cullen in annoyance ‘Another kiss? Answer the damn question already!’

‘Your involvement with Leliana has finally pushed me away.’ I answered bluntly ‘The way you left me at the Griffon Wing Keep is just one of a string of incidences. I cannot be with you Cullen, especially not after what has recently transpired.’

Cullen scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

I frowned at him, disliking the feeling he was mocking me more than listening to my words. ‘You and Leliana left me hurt and betrayed.’ I continued ‘I thought I could accept what has happened but it is apparent there is no way of doing that while you both seem as thick as thieves. When she wasn’t in the picture things were so different between us.’

‘You mean when she was dead?’ observed Cullen dryly, looking extremely displeased.

Sighing, I turned away from his annoyed expression. ‘I’m stepping away from both of you for the sake of my own sanity.’

‘Must I say this a thousand times?! Leliana is not my lover, you know that.’ growled Cullen ‘In Val Royeaux I told her, prophecy or not, I would never have a child with her because I am with you.’

‘You…you told her no?’ I remarked in shock ‘About having the child?’

Cullen nodded. ‘She needed to know that I did not believe in the prophecy. That perhaps I had went along with it for her sake but I had always doubted it deep down.’. The templar’s expression suddenly transformed. Cullen held a brightness in his amber eyes as he looked to me ‘Ophelia, it felt good. For years my doubts were cast aside, but they were real and now I am free of Leliana’s expectations. There is little doubt in Leliana’s mind now of where you and I stand.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I replied softly ‘but this doesn’t change what has already happened. How you both lied to me from the very beginning is not something I can…forget.’

‘Do you need more reassurances?’ asked Cullen, drawing closer to me with a knowing smile. ‘Surely you know deep in your heart that nothing has changed between you and I?’ he murmured, gently placing his hands on my hips and pulling me to him ‘The flicker of orange flame in every candle is my undying desire for you, burning eternally to your waxen yearnings. My fervour, your fancy. Your venereal desires, my death.’. Lowering his head Cullen placed a longing kiss on my lips, his strong arms holding me close to him more tightly than was necessary. Perhaps Cullen wanted me to struggle. Perhaps he wanted to make me feel the anguish that he felt.

Finally the templar released me, a dominant look in his eyes and I stepped away sadly.

‘I can’t.’ I murmured.

‘Ophelia I know how I left you at the Griffon Wing Keep must have angered you.’ observed Cullen seriously ‘It angers me too. But please, my love, do not throw away everything that we have on one month of brewing anger. Do not abandon me to a decision that was made when I could not be by your side and another man was. The night before I left, Leliana received word from the Chantry that it required all this damn information from the archives of the Templar Order before the initiation. Blasted paper shuffling is what it was. I spent the better half of that night in Rylen’s study drafting orders to appease their bloody unnecessary bureaucracy and then I fell asleep at my desk. I should have returned to our room and at the very least told you I would be busy all that night. You know how I get when I am consumed with my work. It is no excuse, but it is the truth. You must believe me.’

‘I do,’ I murmured sadly ‘but Cullen like I said….it doesn’t change what has happened. I’ve already made my decision.’

Cullen’s eyes narrowed. ‘Has this decision have anything, even in the slightest, to do with the Maister of Blades?’

Looking away from him, Cullen scoffed in disgust.

‘Unbelievable.’ he replied with disdain ‘Must I wonder who you are off with every time I leave your side? Always with Michel. So, are you leaving me to be with him then?’

‘Cullen-‘

‘Answer me.’ ordered Cullen sharply.

‘Yes.’ I replied swiftly ‘And no. I haven’t been with him when you were away.’

‘Why would you run back to that simpering chevalier?’ asked the Commander in outrage ‘To punish me? You question my loyalty but look at what you are doing!’. Cullen looked livid, his jaw tightening and the tendons on his neck bulging. ‘Ophelia how can you say you love me and then do this?’ he asked darkly ‘I love you but you are breaking my heart!’

‘I cannot keep chasing after you!’ I replied fervently ‘Michel is someone who doesn’t have a Leliana in his life. There is no doubt. No insecurity.’

‘Oh yes the man is perfect.’ mocked Cullen ‘Never told a lie or betrayed his own wife for another woman on the side, driving her to a blackness that made her take her own life!!! An impeccable character you have there by your side.’

‘None of us are perfect.’ I murmured.

‘An excuse you are willing to make for anyone except myself.’ scorned Cullen. Shaking his head in disbelief, he took a step closer to me. ‘This is it Ophelia.’ warned Cullen ‘If you leave me now, I will not chase you again. Your decision to move on will secure mine to do so also. Not with Leliana, as I have assured you countless times now. However if I cannot be with you I will not linger on the sides anymore.’

‘It’s a song I have spun around the room to for far too long and now I have lost my footing.’ I replied sadly ‘I’m sorry Cullen.’

The templar nodded, throwing me a wistful look. ‘Not as sorry as I.’ he replied.

Cullen’s amber eyes held mine for a fleeting moment before he turned away, and with calm footsteps walked through the hall once more.

****

Sitting on the cool grass, hidden by witch-hazel and poplar, I felt sad and yet finally at peace. The self-doubt, hurt and rejection of former days could now be put to rest. Leliana and Cullen could plot and plan and do whatever they chose and from this moment forward it would not affect me. A misguided belief perhaps, but I had to believe it on this fading afternoon in the gardens of Skyhold.

Beneath the weave of twilight,   
our dreary world stands still.  
Of starry skies ruled by seraphim,   
their celestial tears lay scattered.  
Past days now put to rest.  
All out of reach now appears at hand.  
All that was lost, now found.  
A spark of hope bursts into flames,  
burning brighter until the sun appears.  
And once more the dream is done.

Spring was only few days away and yet the garden was already flourishing. Pink valerian blooms, vivid lilac foxglove and white clusters of alyssum grew in healthy green bushes, while cottage climbing roses scaled the grey stone wall behind me. Hidden in the thick of this nature’s maze, I could finally breathe. An hour passed by, maybe more, as I grounded myself on the soft grass beneath and faded away from time itself.

Every now and then the odd person would pass by, also in search of their own respite. Their own little patch of escapism. Weaving through the maple and birch trees, stumbling across smoke bush and gnarled tree root. The hint of warmth in the late afternoon air whispering sweet nothings to those that longed for more carefree days that only spring would present.

The stirring of the leafy branches of the witch-hazel tree before me diverted my attention to a blonde haired ex-chevalier in a long sleeved navy tunic. He wore calf high brown boots with silver buckles over black pants, and a familiar sword hung by his side on a tanned leather sword belt.

Michel smiled down at me, tapping a parchment in his hand. With an amused curl of my lip, I returned the beam.

‘A messenger gave me this?’ remarked Michel playfully ‘An invitation to a private meeting with the Inquisitor in the gardens at sunset?’

‘Outrageous, I know.’ I mused ‘People will say all sorts of things.’

Running his hand across his jaw, the ex-chevalier took a step forward casting his eyes around the greenery before him.

‘Not at all.’ remarked Michel pleasantly, waving his hand nonchalantly in the air ‘Such things are a common affair in Orlais, being the mecca of secret intrigues. However the knowledge of it in the wrong hands can be quite the scandal. One should always use a hidden letter drop rather than a messenger. An upturned tree trunk perhaps? Attached to the collar of a favoured hound? Concealed within a loaf of bread that arrives fresh on one’s doorstep in the morning?’

I laughed at the knight, shaking my head. Michel’s adorable dimpled jaw revealed itself as he grinned, the snow white skin of his face presenting in beautiful contrast to his sparkling blue eyes and soft pink lips. It was a visage that could steal the heart of any mortal.

‘Now you’re just making it up!’ I accused

Michel laughed, placing one hand on his chest as if silently swearing he told only the truth. ‘No indeed I once received a letter d’amour from the Comtesse de Laverne. She had placed it in the middle of my coq au vin, so as to conceal it from her husband Comte de Laverne who was sitting two seats aside from me at a dinner party at their estate.’

‘’Your coq au vin? Please tell me you are talking about chicken!’ I chortled ‘Did it work?’

Michel grinned, shaking his head. ‘All it accomplished was making the meat rather inedible.’ he replied light-heartedly ‘I spent the rest of the night trying to avoid the Comtesse whilst feeling terribly hungry.’

‘Come sit down with me.’ I grinned.

Lifting my hands up to him, I beckoned Michel to me. The ex-chevalier looked happy to oblige as he lowered himself onto the grass, his back leaning against the wall in-between two vines. Resting his hands on his knees, the half-elf breathed in deeply and closed his eyes.

‘There are some places I will never grow tired of.’ he remarked dreamily, tilting his head back to rest against the wall ‘An evening here is like being in the aura of Skyhold’s nocturnal embrace. Tarasyl’an Te’las.’. Michel breathed in the evening air, a shiver on his breath as he exhaled. ‘The stones here are very old,’ he observed peacefully ‘so old that they have voices of their own and whisper under the starlight if you listen very carefully.’

The half-elf closed his eyes, a small smile on his face as his senses silently took in the surroundings. As if he could hear the stones and somehow was speaking back to them. His broad neck exposed, it teased me to bring my lips to the muscular tendons and yet I refrained, my eyes turning away as he opened his blue eyes once more.

‘I spoke to Gwendolyn a few days ago.’ he remarked ‘We are now no longer together.’

Nodding my head, I sighed wearily. ‘Then let us hope it went better than my conversation with Cullen today.’

Michel turned to me in genuine surprise, and I nodded.

‘How did he react?’ asked the Orlesian, reaching out to touch my arm. ‘Are you all right? I did not think you would have told him so soon but I am glad for it.’

With a shrug, I shook my head in uncertainty. ‘You know Cullen. He was angry. Furious. He told me that he will move on and never come back to me.’. Lifting my eyes to the sky, I sighed. ‘I don’t know whether he will ever truly understand why I had to leave. He jumped to the conclusion that you were to blame. I’m so sorry Michel.’

Michel held my hand fondly. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed it. ‘I can handle Cullen’s wrath,’ he reassured ‘as long as he did not upset you?’

Looking over to Michel, I shook my head ‘He didn’t. This is what I want. A new start away from volatility. A new start with you.’

‘That is what I want also.’ replied the knight, throwing me a fond smile.

With an affectionate look of my own, I drew closer to the ex-chevalier still resting against the wall. Michel moved his lips to mine, drawing me into a kiss. His large hands cupped my cheek gently as he moved closer to me on his knees, and my hands ran up to meet his waist as I too knelt before him. The soft kiss soon transformed into something more sensual and powerful. Deeply intense and full of an unreleased desire that had been building up for far too long.

My hands dove under the knight’s navy tunic, meeting the soft warm toned flesh of his abdomen. Trailing over the tight ripples, Michel stirred and broke from the kiss to flash his white teeth in a shy smile, apparently ticklish from the sensation of my fingers on his skin.

‘Shall we go to my chambers?’ I whispered near his ear, running my hands up his toned back. Fingers tracing into soft nails scratching his skin, hungry for something more than a light touch could satisfy.

‘No, let us go to mine,’ responded Michel, his voice drenched in desire ‘it is all the more closer.’

The ex-chevalier leant forward and passionately kissed me again, running his hands around my waist and pulling me against him. His chest was firm and through the thin cotton of our garments I could feel his heartbeat and mine, pounding together at the thought of what was to come.

Suddenly Michel groaned in agony, drawing his hands to his hair in playful frustration. ‘Abelas! I completely forgot.’ he exclaimed ‘Varric has invited all the council members to The Herald’s Rest for a meal tonight. He said it was to be the first official war council meeting.’

‘At The Herald’s Rest?’ I remarked in amusement ‘Could he have chosen a less private setting? By the blazes why don’t we just get every drunkard’s opinion on what the Inquisition’s next move should be? We could make a rule that whoever wins at darts can decide where we attack next.’

Michel chuckled ‘Do not shoot the messenger, I was as sceptical as you are now when I heard.’

‘Thanks for my invite Varric.’ I muttered cynically, rolling my eyes ‘I’m only the Inquisitor.’

Michel waved his hand ‘You know Varric, he only planned this an hour or so ago. I promised him I would tell you myself.’

Jumping to his feet, Michel pulled me up with a smile. Wrapping his arms around me, the ex-chevalier pulled me tight against his body. His blonde hair spilled down as he lowered his lips to my neck, places several lingering kisses across my skin.

‘Come then, let us have a meal together.’ he whispered charmingly, running his lips lightly along my neck and to my ear ‘To celebrate new beginnings. Already I am intoxicated with exhilaration.’. Placing a soft kiss on my nape, Michel added seductively ‘Intoxicated with the scent of your skin, sweet vanilla and a shiver of excitement.’

Placing several peppered kisses along his jaw and temples, I pulled away in amusement. ‘Chevalier prose?’

‘Naturally.’ he replied with a gracious smile, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. Running his gentle hands along my hips, Michel added softly ‘The headiness of wine pales in comparison to our bodies coming together. My hands surrendering to the softness of your skin, and the stirring of sweet desire….’

Feeling his arousal press against me, I raised an amused eyebrow and Michel groaned again in playful agony, pulling away from me.

‘Of course we could just skip to the dessert?’ he suggested with a cheeky beam ‘Although I suspect Varric may never forgive us for skipping his dinner party.’

Grabbing his hand, I lead the knight through the bushes and out towards the path leading to The Herald’s Rest.

‘Come on.’ I sighed ‘The sooner we get there the sooner we can leave.’


	60. The Gathering of the Council

Firm palms grasped tight, Michel and I made our way towards The Herald's Rest. He held a small smile on his lips, often looking over to me as if perhaps I was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Some fanciful notion in his mind which had now manifested into a reality that he was not yet able to process. I felt the same. Although for my part there was a great deal of guilt being experienced in addition. To be with Michel so soon after Cullen left me feeling slightly ashamed, and yet I was well aware that life was too short to wait around for an appropriate amount of time to pass. When you worked in the Inquisition, the present moment was all you had.

_However there was more too it. I was in love with two men. Plain and simple. Perhaps Cullen had concealed his former relationship with Leliana from me and, in my own way, I had concealed Michel from Cullen. What amount of blame could be apportioned to either of us was now questionable and all that was left do was to move forwards._

Michel squeezed my palm, bringing me back to reality once more. I returned the gesture and continued on.

The Maister of Blades would throw a wide smile to the soldiers, mages and other citizens that we passed and greeted them warmly in his stride. Always having that amicable nature, it was no surprise Michel was so well liked. However I could sense there was something more to his usual felicity. The Orlesian was brimming with an uncontainable happiness that only the flightiness of love could muster.

‘You haven’t stopped smiling since we left the gardens.’ I accused with a wide grin of my own ‘Considering where we are heading you are either completely out of your mind, or a sadist?’

Michel laughed, his brown boots tapping loudly on the sunny pavement at his feet. ‘Most definitely the former, for I think if I were walking into a den of dragonlings right now I would still have reason to smile.’

‘You may not be far from the truth there.’ I muttered ‘Less scales perhaps, but the same amount of fire.’

Drawing a sharp breath, I cast my eyes at the looming building before us with its aged oak wooden beams, tired and weather worn, looking as if it could collapse at any moment. Never had they concerned me before but at this moment I saw it as an omen. Slowing my pace, I pulled my companion to a halt before the entrance of The Herald’s Rest.

‘Ophelia?’ remarked Michel, casting me a curious look.

Noticing my agitation, he stepped in front of me, blocking my vision of the building before us. The knight pulled me into a hug, bringing me close to his chest. His blonde hair fell down as he looked at me, before pressing a light kiss on my cheek.

‘It will be alright.’ he reassured, adding fondly ‘You worry too much, you realise that?’. His blue eyes were deep and sincere and it was clear Michel was convinced everything would be fine. ‘Whatever awaits, you need not fear him when you are with me.’ he added soundly.

‘Yes but I still don’t want go in.’ I muttered, casting my gaze into the nearby tavern window. Inside, the room was already bustling with patrons who were cradling mugs of stout and wrapping their hungry hands around chicken wings and bread. ‘You haven’t seen Cullen since he has returned to Skyhold. He’s furious and he’s going to make this unpleasant. For all of us.’

Michel chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I fear you do not give Cullen as much credit as he deserves.’ replied the ex-chevalier ‘First and foremost he is a Commander of the Inquisition. He knows there is a place for personal matters.’

Throwing him an unconvinced look, Michel shrugged.

‘I’m tired Michel.’ I replied dismally ‘Everything these days is a struggle.’

‘Keep fighting, Inquisitor.’ reassured Michel, kissing my hand before throwing me a playful smile ‘I fear that is what life is all about.’

‘A dire outlook if every I heard one.’ I chuckled.

The man looked poignant, as if he had pondered the concept many times before. ‘Our struggles define our character and make us who we are.’ he explained ‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I’d say it is good thing, considering a life without obstacles would never teach appreciation or that appetite for life that makes life worth living. The years I spent idle serving Empress Celene at the palace, with servants to cater to my every need and nobles to inflate my Chevalier ego. Well, to be honest those were the years I lost my enthusiasm for life. I did not appreciate what I had in a time of no troubles. Not as I do now. No it took life to shake me a great deal more before my view of the world changed for the better. Despite where we are at this moment, in all that we struggle, I am far happier than I have ever been.’

Rolling my eyes, I attempted to pull my overly positive companion away from the door. ‘Well Cullen is about to shake us. Can we leave now?’

‘The Inquisitor may run but she cannot hide.’ replied the Orlesian, pulling me back towards the door into The Herald’s Rest.

Raising a brow to my companion, I grinned. ‘Well, there was that one time in Kirkwall…’

The ex-chevalier laughed. ‘Ophelia you are making a bigger deal of this than it deserves. For all we know Cullen will be civil and polite. Come on, the council awaits.’

****

Loose strands from her tight braid fell limp across her forehead as Cassandra hastily addressed a letter that had arrived that morning. Waving the parchment in the air for several minutes, she finally ran her hand over the ink to ensure it had dried. Running the wax stick over the flame, red droplets fell on the parchment and was hastily pressed with the sigil of the Inquisition. Pursing her lips, she blew air on the seal to encourage it to dry before flinging the letter towards the messenger who was waiting patiently by the door.

‘Deliver this immediately to royal palace in Denerim.’ she ordered.

With a brief bow, the messenger departed the room with the letter in hand. Recent word had been received that the Landsmeet in Denerim had unanimously agreed that Alistair Theirin was to be the next king of Thedas. On his ascension to the throne, homage would have to be paid by all those that inhabited his lands and to whom he provided support, and Skyhold was indeed indebted to Ferelden on this account.

‘Can I speak to you for a moment?’

Cassandra’s brown eyes darted up to see Cullen standing at the doorway, a serious expression on his face.

‘Cullen of course, come in.’ nodded Cassandra, throwing down a letter in her hands ‘Forgive me. I’ve been meaning to talk to you since you arrived back in Skyhold this morning. Unfortunately I have been…distracted.’. Cassandra threw her hand flippantly at the desk covered in paper ‘We have been called to Denerim to attend Alistair’s ascension to the throne, to be crowned as the next King of Ferelden.’

‘So I have heard.’ muttered the Commander ‘Anora couldn’t have chosen a more inconvenient time to die if she tried.’. The Commander shook his head in disapproval. ‘I have no doubt the man is an exceptional Grey Warden but he is not the material of kings. Hence the reason he did not take the throne in the first place.’

‘From what I have been told, there were other reasons as to why Alistair choose not to follow that path.’. With narrowed eyes, Cassandra threw the templar a disapproving look of her own.

‘What?’ asked the templar sharply.

‘You know what.’ muttered Cassandra, shuffling some papers irritably.

‘Need I remind you Sierra Amell arranged the murder of Leliana and yourself?’ retorted Cullen sternly ‘She was not as innocent a party as you like to make her out.’

Cassandra sighed heavily, apparently defeated by the entire affair. ‘And now the King of Ferelden knows we harbour Sierra’s murderer in front of his very eyes. Our greatest ally now our greatest enemy, thanks to you.’

Cullen’s face grew dark, turning away from his companion. ‘I loved her once Cassandra, do not think it was easy for me to do what I did. We all are faced with decisions at times that do not yield favourable outcomes, yet are necessary to be made nevertheless.’

‘If Leliana had remained dead, or if I had died, perhaps we would have a better standing in the matter,’ observed Cassandra tiredly ‘but as it is we were both alive when you sought vengeance. Alistair will see you as a murderer and nothing more.’

‘Then he is delusional.’ quipped Cullen ‘Even Alistair cannot refute what Sierra tried to do. We have Jowan to prove that.’. The Commander looked stern. ‘A threat on the life of any member of the Inquisition council is a threat on the Inquisition itself. Do you think we would have let any enemy do what Sierra did and not seek to stop them at all costs? Had I let Sierra escape I can assure you she would have not failed her mission the second time around. She was a blood mage with a vendetta and an agenda, and I ensured she would not have a second chance to enact on either of them.’. Cullen’s face grew dark. ‘Cassandra,’ he appealed in a lower voice ‘Sierra Amell’s death was not something I executed lightly, but it was something that was inevitable given the circumstances. I may be a templar, but even we have our limits in protecting ourselves against malificars. Sierra would have easily been able to defeat me with blood magic had I not struck first.’

The Seeker sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes. ‘I know Cullen, I know what you say is the truth. I am sorry, I am just very tired. Will this work ever end?’

‘Surely Vivienne can now do this instead of you?’ observed Cullen crisply, crossing his arms ‘That is the role of the ambassador, is it not?’

‘You’ve heard then.’ replied Cassandra darkly ‘For that, I also apologise. I had wanted you to hear it from me.’

‘And not from Skyhold’s loosest pair of lips, now turned spymaster?’ replied Cullen dryly ‘I can’t imagine why?’

‘Varric.’ muttered Cassandra.

‘Here I am dismounting at the stables from a five day journey from Val Royeaux and there is Varric with arms wide open, asking him to embrace Skyhold’s newest Spymaster.’ informed Cullen flatly ‘Must I point out how incredibly unwise it is to appoint someone like Varric to such a position?’

Cassandra threw her companion a determined look. ‘I am well aware he is no Leliana,’ she replied sternly ‘but Varric has many connections across Thedas. He also is equipped with that roguish sharpness of mind that we desperately need.’

‘Which makes him a good candidate for hosting a rather entertaining dinner party, but not to act in such an important position that affects the lives of our people.’ retorted Cullen. Throwing the Seeker a disapproving look, he proceeded to pluck a letter off the pile on the desk, one with the royal Orlesian sigil. ‘Leliana planted many spies in the Orlesian court, from laundry staff all the way to nobility. They filter in and out of the palace and all are so skillful at their art that they have gone undetected for this entire time. Can you imagine what Varric would send were it up to him? Some lout he played cards with at The Hanged Man? Some shady pleb of a connection from Darktown? Would you really trust Varric with the Inquisition’s most valued secrets?’

‘I trust Varric with my life.’ replied the Seeker sharply, looking inflamed at Cullen’s assessment of the rogue. ‘He has only acted in the best interests of the Inquisition, and as selflessly as the rest of us. He never takes his duty lightly and would never be as careless as you imply that he is.’

Cullen ran his hand achingly to his neck, massaging a knot that was growing. ‘That may be so, but is not spymaster material Cassandra.’

The Seeker looked at the man before her, her brown eyes appealing to her companion. ‘Cullen what would you have me do? You and Leliana have been away for months and the work has been left to me, including everything that Josephine was assigned to do. I am only one person, and even less than that as of late as I recovered from near death. One person cannot run the entire Inquisition!’

‘Cass-’ begun Cullen.

‘No.’ interjected Cassandra sternly ‘Between you and Leliana, I am now at my wits end. It is not just Corypheus that threatens to destroy us. Lord Byron Guildersleeve was this close to unleashing his army onto us when news was received about the fabricated accidental death of his daughter Mabel while she was supposedly under our care. Now I receive almost daily letters ordering me to send Athalwolf Guildersleeve back to his family in Orlais.’

The Commander sighed heavily, well aware of that particular debacle. ‘I suppose we could get Jowan to write another letter to Lord Byron reassuring he is fine but wishes to remain here?’

Cassandra’s eyes darkened. ‘And another thing.’ she added angrily ‘Have you already forgotten what that disgusting mage did to me? Do you and Leliana honestly think I can work alongside Jowan after what he did?’

Rubbing his tired eyes with his palms, Cullen groaned in frustration. ‘Damn it Leliana, of all the people in Thedas you chose Jowan as your Left Hand.’ he muttered to himself. Looking to Cassandra, the templar shook his head ‘Of course I do not expect that of you. Jowan is poison in the vein of the Inquisition and if it were up to me you know what I would do with him.’

‘Yet he returns to work here as if nothing happened.’ scorned Cassandra ‘Fully under the protection of Leliana.’

The templar nodded. ‘It sickens me as much as it does you, trust me Cassandra.’

The Seeker was growing in annoyance, the words of the Commander falling on deaf ears as she continued to rant. ‘While you and Leliana have been involved in Chantry business, Varric is the only reason we have our head above water still.’ informed Cassandra ‘He has been working with me through all the Inquisition matters while you have all been away on non-Inquisition matters.’

The Commander shook his head, unable to refute the Seeker’s accusation. His face was riddled with regret and annoyance. ‘What can I say?’ replied Cullen shortly ‘None of us could have anticipated what events have unfolded these last few months. None of this is ideal for the running of the Inquisition, I know that. Yet here I am between a rock and a hard place.’

‘Then you see why immediate replacements are needed to be made when either you or Leliana are not here to attend your duties.’ pointed out Cassandra sternly.

‘Michel de Chevin as my replacement?’ stated Cullen with a scoff ‘Did you not think that I deserved a say as to whom I considered the best candidate for my own role?’

Cassandra looked unconvinced. ‘I suspected you would not have included Michel on your list of contenders.’

Cullen shrugged at the comment. ‘Suppose all you like, there are better men to fill the role and you know it.’

‘Better than your second in command?’ retorted Cassandra irritably ‘Michel de Chevin has received formal training from the Academie des Chevaliers and is equipped with leadership experience that far exceeds most people that I know of in the Inquisition. Yes, I believe he would make an ideal replacement as Commander when you are away.’

Cullen shook his head, unwilling to agree. ‘Rylen would have been my first choice. Better to let another Commander come here and oversea the bulk of the Inquisition and let Michel run the Griffon Wing Keep.’

Cassandra rose from her chair, kicking it back in frustration. ‘Enough! Cullen do not make this harder for me!’

Flashing her a pair of displeased amber eyes, the templar stood his ground and remained collected. ‘Fine,’ growled Cullen ‘however in future perhaps you should include all your members of the war counsel on war counsel matters.’

‘I would were you ever here.’ scorned the Seeker.

‘I intend to be here from now on.’ retorted Cullen darkly ‘I am here now.’

Cassandra began to chuckle to herself. It was a laughter that came from being deliriously tired and overworked. ‘Do you and Leliana realise what you have done? Do you realise the implications of your new roles?’ asked the Seeker ‘Between you and her, we run the risk of weaving the Chantry and the Templar Order into the Inquisition. One big boiling pot of trouble. I hope you realise that many will see that as a conflict of interest?’

‘Or a comfort?’ chortled Cullen ‘Besides, you need not worry about the Templar’s wishing to be connected to the Inquisition in any way, shape or form. Not after Ophelia’s decision to give the mages their freedom and then attempt to disband the templar order. As for the Chantry? I’ve no doubt Leliana can control that lot.’

‘No doubt.’ replied an unconvinced Seeker. Making her way to the door, she added ‘So, are you coming?’

With a scoff, Cullen looked at the Seeker with disdain. ‘Varric is holding a war council in a tavern. Do you really think you should be encouraging that sort of behaviour?’

Holding a small pursed smile on her lips, Cassandra proceeded to walk down the hall.

‘We meet at The Herald at sunset.’ she called back, her voice echoing in the emptiness of the space behind her.

****

_Son of the ocean, son of the waves,_

_black hair of shadows, raven wing eyes._

_Kindness of honey, the sap of my heart,_

_Stygian your fury, should ever we part._

_Calm on the tide, a mischievous shore,_

_tempest your waters, that churn and do roar._

_Sun feather your temptress, her locks are your heat,_

_yet trapped in saltwater, never shall you both meet._

_Somber brine spirits, your abyssal is strong,_

_roaming hadal paths, the journey is long._

_Crystal your kingdom, within deep blue caves,_

_son of the ocean, son of the waves._

Huddled together in the crowded tavern, the patrons listened on as Maryden performed for the group. It was a song about a Ferelden sea deity, a folk legend most likely as old as the waters themselves. Gentle and mesmerising, her sweet voice filled the room and was as warm as the glowing candles on the wooden tables. It was the only thing that granted a few minutes of silence in the tavern, and for those few verses all listened on in wonder.

A roar of cheers, whistles, clapping and banging of mugs came from beside our table as the Bull’s mercenaries applauded the end of Maryden’s song. With nods of approval, the soldiers recommenced their drinking and the busy chatter filled the room once more.

‘A little more, shall we?’

Vivienne sat across from me, holding a blue bottle of foreign looking wine that most definitely did not come from the Corff’s collection of house wines. Waving my hand in decline, Vivienne ignored me and commenced pouring. As the last drops fell from the bottle, the mage paused to take in the disenchanted state Cassandra and myself sitting at the table. Both of us were resting against our elbows, heavily on the wooden table, and looking completely unenthused.

‘Well I now know why you wanted Michel, Varric and I to join you.’ she added brusquely ‘You’re hardly going to rally any spirits with pouts like those.’

Varric clashed his pint against the glass of Vivienne, spilling half the contents onto the table. She threw a displeased look as the rogue nudged his head in our direction.

‘Came just in the nick of time didn’t we?’ Varric exclaimed.

‘There is only one reason you are here Varric.’ replied Cassandra flatly. She raised a brow, holding her empty flagon before Varric. ‘Pour.’ she ordered.

The rogue chuckled, filling her cup with an amused smile. ‘Ah Seeker, good to know my place in the scheme of things.’

Michel settled back in his seat beside me, appearing to be pleasantly amused by the conversation. However no one was aware of the real reason for his pleasure as his hand remained concealed the table, gently caressing my thigh in a rather wanton manner.

Turning to the ex-chevalier, I muttered under my breath ‘Can we go yet?’

‘This is not where I want to be at this moment,’ whispered Michel with a smile ‘purely for selfish reasons.’

His face suddenly grew less festive as his eyes drew to the entrance of the tavern. Following his gaze, my eyes caught the familiar figure of Cullen. The Commander looked around the tavern, his amber eyes cold as steel as they came to rest upon Michel and I at the table. Calmly he wove his way between patrons, even stopping for a moment to chat with Blackwall, before making his way to where we had all gathered.

'Curly over here.' called out Varric, waving the templar over enthusiastically.

Cullen looked around the table, nodding a small acknowledgement to Cassandra, Vivienne and Varric as he sat beside them. Something told me the greeting did not extend to Michel and I.

'So shall we start discussing Inquisition matters?' begun Cullen dryly. His eyes flickered across the table as he reached for a jug of ale, an amber glare that caught my eye for a moment.

‘Well now that we’re all here, first I’d like to make a toast to our new counsel.’ announced Varric cheerfully ‘It’s a new chapter and I have a feeling this one is going be a good one.’

Raising our mugs, we drank swift sips. And then we drank uneasy sips as our eyes went back to the Commander who refused to drink a drop.

‘I proper another toast.’ announced Cullen, lifting his mug high. 'A toast to our new Commander, Michel de Chevin'.

'Here we go kids.’ muttered Varric.

Michel sighed, taking a sip of his ale. Leaning back in his chair, he held a small smile on his face as he locked eyes with the templar.

'Our new Commander of the Inquisition deserves that much, surely?' pointed out Cullen, finally taking a sip of ale. ‘Cheers to you Michel.’

‘Thank you Cullen for welcoming me so warmly.’ replied Michel, shaking his head with a chuckle. ‘Unbelievable.’ he muttered under his breath, casting me a you were right look.

'Michel is to help out when you are not here Cullen,' sighed Cassandra ‘as we previously agreed to. But an hour ago.’

'And what a fine job he has proven already.' mocked Cullen, taking another swig of ale ‘Settled in well, haven’t you Maister?’

Michel shrugged. 'Cullen this arrangement was not my idea. This is only to help the Inquisition. There is nothing personal to it.'

'So you stealing Ophelia from me while I was away in Val Royeaux, not personal either I take it?' observed Cullen crisply, his frame growing larger as he glared at the pair of us.

Vivienne’s eye’s lighted up, shuffling down the table a bit to get a closer view to the action.

‘Do you really want to do this now?’ asked Michel calmly, throwing his eyes around the table before laying them back onto Cullen.

The Commander looked surprised. 'I merely am asking you a question Michel.’ he taunted ‘The way I see it, you have this obsession to have everything that I hold. May I ask where it ends? Shall I hand over the Tower of Ishal to you? The position of Right Hand? The title of Knight-Commander? My armour? My bed? '

Michel now held the Commander’s glare with equal intensity, unwilling to take the bait but growing displeased at the words of the templar.

'Ah kids, maybe we should reschedule this meeting?' suggested Varric a little hastily, catching a scowl from Cassandra that was being cast his way ‘Perhaps the war room isn’t the worst place to hold counsel?’

'Reschedule at the most juicy part?' murmured Vivienne, half under her breath 'Not on your life, darling.'

'Ophelia?' chuckled Varric, noticing me shrinking away from the conversation 'Any water to throw on the flames here?'

'I don't need to justify my personal choices.' I replied flatly, sitting back in my chair as I locked eyes with the stern Commander ' If Cullen wants to make our personal relationship a public matter then let him say his piece and be done with it.'

‘We don’t have a personal relationship.’ replied Cullen curtly.

‘Now everyone knows.’ I snapped ‘You’ve made your point.’

‘Then the matter is settled.’ added Michel firmly ‘Can we move on now?’

Cullen chuckled bitterly at the comment, clenching his fist as Michel rose to his feet. Face to face, the men were about to come to blows.

'Do you really want to do this here? In front of everyone?' asked the ex-chevalier again, leaning towards Cullen with his hands planted firmly against the wooden table 'Your gripe is with me. Let us go outside and discuss this if there is no other way.'

'The more people that bear witness to the man you really are, all the better.' growled Cullen 'However I won't pass up a chance to further discuss this with you outside. Now come.'

Clicking his fingers, the Commander turned and abruptly marched out of the tavern, leaving the rest of us more than a little gob smacked.

'Uhhh Goldilocks, I wouldn't take a step out of this tavern unless you wanna be cleaning your innards from the stones in the courtyard.' observed Varric uneasily ‘Call it an inkling?’

'He's right.' I interjected, grasping the Orlesian's hand to secure him fast 'This is utter nonsense. Stay here and let Cullen cool off.'

The ex-chevalier looked unconvinced. 'And avoid him for the rest of my days in Skyhold? We both know this cannot be avoided. It is not my desire to fight my comrades. However there are many types of men, and the type waiting outside reacts and listens to…discussions. I have little choice here if any of us are to move on.'

‘We’ve moved on already!’ I replied. Turning to Varric, I raised my hands to appeal to him held me out. ‘Haven’t we? We’ve all moved on!’

Varric chuckled. ‘Like a horse bolting out of the gates.’

‘Michel, Cullen wants this.’ I added ‘Don’t play into his hand and go outside.’

'Oh Varric darling you simply must host more soirees,' remarked Vivienne with a cheshire smile 'this night keeps on getting better and better!'

The rogue shook his head, unable to suppress his bouts of laughter. 'Heck well I might as well make this worth our while. Goldilocks, give me a few minutes before you go out that door.'

Before Varric had even finished his sentence he was half way across the room and calling for bets from the patrons.

'Come on.' I urged Michel 'We can wait this out upstairs. Have a few drinks and wait for Cullen to leave? The night’s not ruined yet. Who knows, it might be fun to idle a few hours away listening to Maryden?'

The ex-chevalier leaned over to place a kiss on my cheek, a smile on his face as looked upon me. 'You know this is the last thing I want to do right now.’ he replied earnestly ‘I don’t want you feeling like you did outside the tavern before, not for one more moment. If it takes this for us all to move forward then Cullen and I need to discuss this. Man to man.'

'Fist to fist you mean?' I frowned 'How do I say this?'. I paused, unable to say what I was thinking.

'Darling allow me,' chimed in Vivienne, who had been eavesdropping besides us. She turned to Michel and clasped his cheek affectionately 'My dear chevalier, what your sweetheart over there means to say is; there is a reason why beautiful men fight with swords and don't rely on their sculpted fists.'

Michel nodded, an amused smile on his face. 'Why ladies, are you concerned I may cause injury to my beauty? Or do you think I do not stand a chance against our Commander?

'Not for lack of trying my dear boy. You are after all the Maister of Blades, and a gorgeous one at that.' acknowledged Vivienne 'However when the gauntlets come off it is your elvish svelteness that I fear may not be a match to our broad chested Ferelden waiting outside.'. Sweeping her finger fondly across his blonde hair on his brow, and trailing down his cheek, she shook her head with a smile. ‘Encouraging the Commander to fight like that. Whatever are we going to do with you? You know it would be a crime to ask those delicate cheekbones and silken skin of yours to entertain the Commander’s rough fists?’

Michel laughed, graciously grabbing Vivienne’s hand and placing a kiss on it. ‘My lady, I will do everything in my power not to maim them.’ 

‘There’s a good boy.’ smiled Vivienne. Turning to the rest of the party, she casually waved ‘Now please behave my dear children. I’m off to bed. Watching tavern fights is not my choice of entertainment, but I shall be eager to learn of the result tomorrow at breakfast.’

As Vivienne traipsed away, I found myself being distracted by something else. Narrowing my eyes, I noticed most of the tavern was eagerly gathering around Corff’s bar and placing bets on the anticipated fight. Varric was frantically taking bets, clicking his fingers to Corff and Krem to write down the wagers. The distraction allowed Michel to leave my side with little difficulty, and I caught sight of him passing by the keen group placing bets. A few cheered the Orlesian on, while others advised him to hit the ground and pretend to be dead.

'Cassandra,' I protested, turning to the Seeker who was drinking an ale silently at the end of the now abandoned table 'can't you stop them? Cullen might actually listen to you?'

Cassandra looked unimpressed with the request. 'Inquisitor, for as long as I can remember I have spent every night of the week working late on council matters that Cullen and Leliana should have been attending to.' she muttered, taking a large sip of ale 'If I could be bothered getting up I would be putting bets on Michel in the hopes that he knocks the Commander about a few times.'

‘Fine, they can do what they please.’ I grumbled to myself. Shaking my head, I started for the door. Cullen would have his pound of flesh, but like Vivienne, I was not about to entertain it.

****

White sleeves rolled up and steel cuirass already removed and lying against the stone wall, Cullen paced at the side of the outer tavern area where Cassandra liked to train. Michel too had rolled his red tunic sleeves up, and his eyes held fast on the furious Commander before him. The Orlesian held a noble air while the Commander held an authoritative one, and both men looked equally serious about the matter before them.

‘Let us discuss this then.’ announced Michel sternly, only to raise his fists as Cullen came at him with a lumbering swing.

Although similar in height, Cullen held a larger frame over his opponent. Ferelden’s were renowned for their sturdy build and varying shades of red tinged hair. With burnt amber coloured hair and a muscular rectangular broad chest, Cullen had physical size over the half-elf’s more slender physique. However this gave Michel an agile edge, and he was prepared to use this to his advantage.

Narrowly dodging the blow, Michel swiftly packed his own punch and clipped the Commander on the chin. The blow was not enough to cause damage, but did make the Commander scowl even more than he was already doing so. Cullen came at Michel once more and shoulder charged him, causing the Orlesian to be knocked off guard. The Commander took that opportunity to swing a hard punch directly into the cheek of the Orlesian. The crowd winced as Michel hit the ground.

‘That’s for taking something that was not yours to have.’ growled Cullen, rolling his sleeves higher as he prepared to dish out more discussions.

Although more than a little disheveled, Michel picked himself off the ground with a small smile still on his face. Brushing dirt and leaves from his shirt, he then proceeded to wipe a small fleck of blood from the side of his mouth.

‘Can Ophelia and I move on with our lives now?’ Michel inquired politely. It was apparent Michel was taking more than a little pleasure in Cullen’s fury, now that he had received a painful blow from the templar.

Drawing back his sandy hair, Cullen charged at Michel again but this time the Orlesian was better prepared and swiftly escaped the path of attack, but not before throwing a low blow into Cullen’s abdomen. The templar bent over in pain, and Michel kept his distance with fists ready and his breathing now extremely rapid.

The Commander locked fiery eyes with the Orlesian and charged at him, swinging hard. Michel narrowly dodged the first and second swings, but Cullen was determined and on the third hit Michel hard against the temple with a crunch. The Maister of Blades was dazed from the hit, cupping his bloody face.

‘I should have done that the day of the Grand Tourney.’ yelled Cullen as he took another swing.

Michel swerved to the side and responded with a forceful punch into the cheek of Cullen. The impact was hard, and the Commander staggered back in pain.

‘Stop this now Cullen?!’ yelled Michel angrily. Thrusting his hand towards the crowd, he shook his head in disapproval. ‘Why involve everyone else in? Our qualms are not a lesson they should be learning.’

Cullen chortled at the observation. ‘On the contrary,’ growled Cullen ‘there are always consequences to your actions. That is the lesson.’

Ramming his fist hard into the jaw of the Maister of Blades, Cullen dealt several bone crunching blows that left the crowd gasping in shock. Michel fell to his knees, his face now covered in blood. The savage beatings had left him utterly spent. Spitting crimson from his mouth, his blue eyes peaked from the blood covering his face and matted hair.

‘Are we done yet?’ wheezed Michel, his voice a little more in pain now ‘Can we move on now?’

Cullen threw Michel a scowl, catching his breath against the stone wall.

‘Yes.’ the templar muttered ‘We’re done.’

Many in the crowd began cheering, apparently joyous at winning the recent wagers placed at Corff’s bar. An excited Varric was calling the group back into the tavern. He passed by the two men to throw them the thumbs up of approval.

‘Curly. Goldilocks. Great show.’ praised a grinning Varric ‘Really inspirational stuff.’. With a skip in his step, the rogue hurried into the tavern to attend to business.

Indeed the audience in the courtyard was so captivated by the scene before them that scarce than a few noticed the entourage of templars and the black carriage that came galloping through Skyhold’s gates during the fight. As the mysterious party dismounted near the stables, two figures descended from the carriage and made their way to where the crowd still gathered.

Stepping into the courtyard, side by side, Leliana and Jowan both held a pair of tight lips and crossed arms as they witnessed the spectacle before them. Of a heavily panting Cullen leaning against the cobblestoned wall and a bloodied Michel de Chevin easing himself off the dusty ground.

'Dare we ask?' inquired Jowan dryly, throwing a raised brow to his companion. He brushed the sleeve of his black robe, apparently more interested in the lint being collected rather on the velvet rather than the sight before him.

'We could hazard a guess,' replied Leliana, eyeing the templar and ex-chevalier with disapproval ‘of course would we be any better off knowing why?’

‘It certainly makes our own lives seem more normal,’ responded the mage cynically ‘that is always refreshing.’

The spymaster laughed at her companions sentiments. Perhaps there was a little truth to it. Running her hands through her ginger hair, she loosened the ribbon that held it back and let the fiery strand fall down her back. Taking in a deep breath of frosty air into her lungs, she exhaled calmly. Leliana was back in Skyhold and although never having a proper one, it strangely felt like she had returned home.

The crowd suddenly started to murmur as they turned away from the fight and their attention drew to the ginger haired woman behind them. A woman whose dead body had been carried across the courtyard weeks before in front of their very eyes. Whispers flooded the courtyard as the people gathered closer to bear witness to Leliana.

Divine Victoria called out a few shocked voices; it’s Divine Victoria!

The people looked on in awe, raising their hands as if asking for a blessing from the Maker himself. Leliana smiled, grasping the hands of many as they tried to make contact.

‘Mistress! Mistress!’ cried out a voice.

A man with an orange handlebar moustache began shoving through the crowd. It was the Inquisition’s blacksmith Harritt; a burly man wearing a grubby apron and covered in ash. He wrapped his large arms around Leliana, embracing her tight.

‘Praise the Maker, I saw you dead mistress! We all saw you dead!’ exclaimed Harritt ‘Yet here you, as real in the flesh as the rest of us. He has returned you to us. Praise be to the Maker!’

Jowan looked over to his companion, more than a little amused at the reception. The broad smile of her lips told him she was happy, and yet he couldn’t help but notice that sad flicker in her eyes that told him it was all a facade.

'Yes the Maker has returned me, Harritt,’ acknowledged Leliana ‘for we have work to be done and the Maker is on our side.'

The whispers grew louder in a loud chatter of approval and excitement. The Maker’s chosen was with them all, and that was a wonderful blessing.

'Did the Maker send you also?' queried a small voice at Jowan’s side ‘Who are you?’

The mage looked down to see a small child with large brown eyes looking up at him curiously. Jowan faltered, seemingly at a loss of words at such a simple question.

How could he answer the question he had most feared throughout his life to answer?

Leliana pressed her hand on his arm and threw Jowan a reassuring smile. 'This here is Jowan….’. She hesitated with a frown. ‘I just realised that I have no idea what your surname is?’ whispered Leliana.

‘You and me both.’ he muttered. Noticing Leliana’s confusion, Jowan waved off the comment. ‘It’s MacLothlorian.’

Leliana turned back to the crowd ‘This here is Jowan MacLothlorian. He is here to help us run the mage tower. We are truly blessed for he is a remarkable mage and mentor.'

The crowd looked upon Jowan with genuine interest, their eyes full of hope of what he could bring to Skyhold. For if the Divine herself could such a man remarkable, then who were they to doubt it? A few people came and shook his hand, followed by more, a warm welcome on their lips. Jowan's heart stirred and for the first time he felt what it was like to be truly accepted as his own self. After several minutes of fond salutations, the crowd finally let him alone once more.

Jowan turned to Leliana and threw her an appreciative nod. 'Thank you Leliana.' murmured the mage, his black eyes looking a little glossy in the twilight 'You will never know how much I needed that.' Looking up to the corner of the keep where the tower resided, Jowan took in a deep breath. ‘Well I suppose it’s time I settled in.’ he added with a small smile.

Holding a smile of her own, Leliana watched the mage descend into the night. As she turned however, her smile faded as she beheld Cullen now sitting on a barrel against the wall, covered in blood that she suspected was not his own.

The Commander looked up briefly as Leliana approached, shaking his head as she stopped at his feet.

‘You’re back.’ remarked Cullen.

‘I am.’ confirmed Leliana flatly.

The templar threw her a guilty smile. ‘Well nothing much has been happening around here.’

Maintaining a straight face, Leliana crossed her arms. The spymaster was not impressed.

Cullen groaned, casting his eyes away from her unforgiving glare. 'I know what you are going to say so spare me the lecture.' muttered Cullen ‘Some things happened while I was away.’

'So when I am away you decide to beat Michel de Chevin into a bloody pulp?' observed Leliana. A small curl began forming on her lip, unable to stay mad at the man before her. ‘Must have been several large things that happened?’

'Sufficed to say, yes.' remarked Cullen bitterly, wincing as he eased himself off the barrel 'Damn Orlesian has been asking for it for a while now. I denied myself the pleasure for far too long.'

'Ophelia?' queried the spymaster with a raised brow.

'Who else?' muttered Cullen. His eyes were dark as he wiped the blood from his lip onto his white sleeve. 'She and Michel are together again, and I am done with all that nonsense. Maker knows I have real work to do, and plenty of it.'

Leliana threw a sharp, somewhat emotionally detached from the matter as a result of her own feelings. ‘I am tired.’ she observed. She patted her friend on the arm as she turned to head off. 'Goodnight Cullen.'

Throwing an appreciative nod to the spymaster, Cullen waved off the smirking Divine. 'Goodnight Leliana. Try not to get up to any trouble between here the loft.'

Biting her lip, Leliana stopped in her tracks. She cast her green eyes into the distance to where the main hall was, becoming entangled in her thoughts.

‘Leliana what is it?’ asked Cullen with a frown. Clasping her on the arm, the templar looked worried at his friend’s unsettled expression.

Blinking several times, Leliana returned to the present. ‘I’m not certain I want to return to the bed where I was murdered.’ she murmured, the crease on her brow growing heavy ‘There are some experiences…I’d rather forget.’

‘Anyone would understand that.’ reassured Cullen, throwing her a sympathetic look. ‘Don’t go back there then. You can stay in my loft tonight and tomorrow we’ll get Mistress Ruthie to find you new lodgings? Somewhere on the complete opposite side to where that damnable rookery is.’

Leliana threw a small smile towards Cullen ‘Although I appreciate it, I fear I have behaved poorly with you quite a lot as of late. You of all people deserve a break from that. That is the very least I can do.’

Cullen waved his hand, dismissing the comment. ‘What’s done is done, and we move on. I don’t think any of us can play the clear conscious card these days.’

‘I know,’ Leliana replied ‘but tonight I think I’ll call on another to house me. One that has a bit more space in his lodgings.’

‘Master Dennet?’ teased Cullen with a playful grin.

Leliana laughed at the comment, shivering in disgust. ‘By the Maker not in a million years! No, I was talking about Jowan.’

Cullen’s eyes suddenly sharpened, the smile fading off his face. ‘Jowan?’ he echoed, half laughing in response. ‘Jowan? You’re joking, surely? You don’t want to be in the room where you were murdered, but you’ll happily take up residence with the murderer himself!?’

Leliana raised her arms up to placate the man. ‘Cullen I know it sounds strange, but I don’t see Jowan in that light.’

She sighed at Cullen’s unconvinced look.

Cullen thrust his hands towards her as if appealing to her senses. ‘What light? That is a fact. Jowan murdered you.’

‘Yes and I murdered him, and we both were resurrected by the Maker.’ frowned Leliana, looking as if she was more uneasy at the concept than had previously revealed. ‘Cullen I know how it sounds but in some strange way that mutual experience created a bond between Jowan and I. I cannot explain it better than that.’

‘I cannot believe it, you must be delirious from all the travel and lack of sleep.’ replied Cullen in disgust ‘You should be keeping your distance from Jowan. Leliana, I watched over him in the Kinloch Hold for years and I know his true nature. I know what Jowan is. You will come to regret your faith in him, but Maker help me intervene before you do.’. Holding her hands in his, Cullen lowered his voice as he looked to his companion ‘Leliana please, I do not want to lose you again. I carried your lifeless body through this courtyard and wept bitterly as you lay in the temple. It was more than I could bare, and I don’t intend to do it again.’

‘I’m not sure I can live forever to please you.’ smirked Leliana.

‘It’s my job to ensure you do.’ affirmed Cullen. Keeping her hands tight in his, the templar looked at her sincerely. ‘You must be careful Leliana, you mean too much to me.’

Leliana’s expression crumbled, her eyes escaping his. ‘Cullen, you never make it easy.’ she murmured.

‘So I’ve been told.’ chuckled Cullen ‘I don’t care. Nothing will stop me from protecting those I care about. Promise me you won’t go to Jowan tonight. Promise me Leliana.’

‘Fine.’ groaned Leliana ‘I’ll find someone else. Maybe Vivienne will let me sleep on the floor?’

‘A fine prospect!’ grinned Cullen ‘Of course, my offer still stands?’

‘Good night Cullen.’ replied Leliana with a roll of her eyes ‘Try not to bludgeon anyone on your way to bed.’

Cullen was about to offer his lodgings again, an option that appeared a great deal more logical than the cold wooden floor. However his friend had already disappeared into the night and his protests would have only been met by the peaceful silence of evening. With a frown, the Commander achingly made his way back to his study, alone and bruised.

****

Unable to force myself watch Cullen and Michel punch each other senseless, I decided to wait at Michel’s quarters until he returned. To my horror, the ex-chevalier returned so drenched in blood I feared for a moment we had been attacked. However it soon became apparent his wounds were the result of a heavy handed Cullen. After helping Michel into his quarters, I left the man to rest as I set out to the mage tower to retrieve some of Athalwolf’s potent healing poultices.

As I rummaged in the dark through Athalwolf’s desk, I was half scared to death upon seeing Jowan smirking at me from across the room. Even now I found myself forgetting Athalwolf was nothing but a lie, and it was who Jowan who ran the mages tower. Jowan directed me to the cupboard where he kept his potions, and sent me on my way with his best wishes for Michel.

Scaling the dark battlements, I was once more diverted as I passed by Cullen’s study. His door was slightly ajar, and within the warm glow of candles burning told me the Commander was still downstairs and had not retired for the night. With a quick knock on his door I waited to hear Cullen call out yes before entering into the room. The templar’s back was facing me as he sat at his desk, wrapping a cloth bandage around his shoulder.

‘If it’s that letter from Hossberg that I’ve been waiting on, put it on the desk here.’ he called out ‘Anything else just put it by the door. And if it’s from Ashcombe Estate, take it to Jowan in the mage’s tower.’

‘It’s me.’ I remarked, standing by the door.

The templar turned his head, catching my eye before turning back to concentrate on his bandage. ‘What is it Ophelia?’ Cullen asked gruffly.

‘Is this how it’s going to be between you and I now?’ I asked solemnly ‘Beating up Michel? Humiliating us both whenever you get an audience?’

‘What’s done is done.’ he replied darkly ‘The matter is now closed.’

There was nothing for me to do but scoff. ‘What matter?’ That you did not agree with my decision to leave you? That was my choice Cullen. Michel didn’t steal me away or force me to be with him. It was my choice. If anyone, you should have fought me outside the tavern. Not Michel.’

The Commander threw me a look of disdain. ‘What sort of man do you think I am?’

‘Do you realise how badly you have injured Michel?’ I asked darkly ‘What you did to him tells me what sort of man you are.’

‘The devil take you.’ muttered Cullen ‘You flaunt Michel in front of me and expect me to smile? Applaud him for creeping into the council, as well as your bed? And you think I wouldn’t have a problem with that? If so, you are as delusional as that Orlesian fool.’

‘When have I flaunted Michel in front of you?’ I replied angrily, more than a little frustrated ‘We all came together tonight at Varric’s request, not to flaunt anything in front of you. The decision to make Michel a stand in Commander while you were away was a decision made by Cassandra. In fact Michel told her he did not want the position! He knew how you would react and he never wanted to encroach on your territory.’

‘Yet here we are.’ growled Cullen sternly, rising from his chair. Turning to face me, he crossed his arms sternly. ‘Ophelia why are you here?’

‘You need to stop this now.’ I replied seriously ‘If we are to work together we need to set aside all our differences.’

‘When have I ever let my personal feelings interfere with my work?’ retorted Cullen sharply.

Looking at Cullen, a shook my head. ‘Today, when you beat Michel within an inch of his life.’

‘You’re being dramatic.’ he muttered ‘The man had it coming, and I left him still breathing.’

It took all my willpower not to start shouting or bang my fists against the wall, just to make him see reason. ‘You just seriously injured our Maister of Blades and second in Command in Skyhold. A man that recently nearly died back in the Western Approach, when trying to save my life in an ambush that you led us into.’

The Commander looked angry at this reminder. ‘The last time I checked, Sierra’s men ambushed us. Not mine. Yet you blame me?’

‘Not directly,’ I hissed ‘but we all suffered as a result of your decision to abduct Sierra. Whether you like it or not, Michel saved my life that day. How about showing the man a little respect? If only because it is the only reason your Inquisitor stands here alive today.’

Slamming his hand on the table, Cullen looked furious. ‘You have the audacity to come in here and lecture me about how I should treat Michel de Chevin?!’

‘What you did today sends out the wrong message as to how we respect and treat each other within our ranks.’. Pointing sharply out the window, I added ‘That is how we treat the enemy, not our own. All it takes is a few loose threads like this to unravel all that we have worked for. Don’t you see that you are sending out the wrong message when you do things like that?’

‘Fine. It won’t happen again.’ growled Cullen ‘Are we done here? I am tired.’

‘Me being with Michel doesn’t switch off everything that we once shared.’ I added sadly, turning to the door once more ‘You can hate me but it doesn’t change my opinion of you. You are a good man. But I beg you, don’t let your anger taint that.’

Cullen chuckled bitterly, grabbing the candle off his desk as he proceeded to the ladder of the loft. ‘I told you so many times to not get close to me for I would hurt you.’ observed the Commander cynically ‘Woe betide such foolish sentiments when the opposite rang so true. Tell me Ophelia, is it easy to switch from one man to another at the drop of a hat? You speak of morals, but yours, Inquisitor, are nothing but a whore’s.’

My stomach sunk at the observation, but instead of feeling sad all I felt was anger. ‘Do not forget how many times you did hurt me. You are guilty of that ten times over.’ I replied darkly, turning for the door ‘Maker knows I never have forgotten.’

‘Something you remind me of every day.’ added Cullen angrily ‘Something I have asked for your forgiveness and you have forgiven. What has changed?’

Looking at the templar that I loved, I shook my head as I left the study. ‘You’re right Cullen, I have forgiven you. But some things never change.’


	61. Red Apple

_Attention Ser Michel de Chevin,_

_Please be informed that all previous charges against you by the Orlesian Court under the former reign of Empress Celene are now revoked in their entirety. All titles, estate and monetary assets previously seized by the crown are now reinstated._

_Emperor Gaspard cordially welcomes you back to the Orlesian Court and requests an intimate audience. A carriage has been provided for your leisurely return._

_Long live Emperor Gaspard_

_The Imperial Palace_

_Val Royeaux_

Rolling the parchment, Michel looked blankly up at the royal Orlesian messenger who had just handed him the letter. To say the Maister of Blades was shocked would have been an understatement, and it took the messenger several attempts to get Michel’s full attention.

‘Ser Michel?’ remarked the messenger ‘Shall you accompany me back to the carriage now, or will you be needing a moment?’

Blinking his blue eyes several times, Michel raised his hand to his pale albeit bruised jaw, checking to see if this was in fact real and not some strange dream. The dull and painful throbbing told him it was real enough. Michel threw a polite nod to the messenger.

‘Give me a moment to pack a few items.’ answered the Maister of Blades, a wide smile growing on his face ‘I shall meet you at the carriage promptly.’

The messenger bowed respectfully, the frill at the back his waistcoat flinging up as the man’s back bent low. ‘As you wish, Ser Michel de Chevin.’

****

It had been several days since the infamous Fisticuffs of the Commanders, as the people of Skyhold were now calling it. The soldiers wouldn’t stop talking about. Varric wouldn’t stop telling inflated stories about it. And even Corff had introduced a new drink on the menu called The Bloody Commander, which had become the most popular beverage of choice ever since.

Meanwhile Michel had taken a few days off to recover, which the war counsel obliged without question considering the reason behind it. That afternoon I was eager to check on his progress, although Jowan’s healing poultices had done wonders. Skipping down the stop steps towards Michel’s quarters, I found myself humming a tune as I knocked on his door with a rata-tata-tat-tat-tat.

‘Ee’s not there mistress.’ called out a voice from the nearby shrubs.

Jumping in surprise, I realised the voice was coming from behind flourishing lavender bush. It was the Skyhold gardener, who was trimming the verge.

‘Oh.’ I replied dismally ‘Don’t suppose you know where he went?’

‘Now hang on, hang on.’ puffed the gardener, getting to his unsteady feet and making his way towards me. ‘Got meself a letter here that Maister wanted me to give you. Said you would be ‘round.’. Wrenching a crumpled letter from his overalls, he thrust it at me before returning to his duties.

More curious than concerned, I opened the letter to read immediately.

_Dearest Ophelia,_

_Forgive me but a personal matter has arisen and I have urgent need to leave Skyhold for a few days. Do not fear for I am in no danger. And please do not worry, for there is nothing to worry about. All will explained before too long._

_With all my love,_

_Michel_

‘Oh.’ I remarked, my heart sinking a little at the mysterious nature of Michel’s disappearance.

Where had he gone?

I knew Michel had been furious at Cullen’s behaviour during their fight, but was it possible that anger went further? Had Michel left because he was tiring of the place?

‘Everything good mistress?’ called out the nosey gardener.

Walking past the gardener and retracing my steps, I threw him the thumbs up. ‘Fine, yes absolutely fine. Everything is really really good.’

****

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Varric threw a soft sack ball against the stone wall, while Cassandra and Leliana perused some documents spread out on the war table. Vivienne too was reading over some letters quietly to herself. All that was left to do was stare somewhat aimlessly out the window. Imagining I was the lark that I now could see flying outside, I wondered how long it would take me to fly down the mountain? I wondered when this painful counsel would start?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Cassandra swiped at the ball that Varric was throwing, but the rogue was too quick and began to throw it again. He flashed her a taunting grin, quite pleased that he had been the victor.

Thump. Thump. Thump. THUD!

Varric stared at the ball in surprise and Leliana grinned, admiring her dagger work. The offending blade had pierced right through the cloth ball and had sent its flour contents all over the floor.

‘I approve.’ affirmed Cassandra.

Varric looked at the ball with a frown, mourning the loss of his entertainment. ‘Me, not so much.’ he muttered.

Leliana grinned ‘Varric it was either you or the ball. Be thankful.’

Varric chuckled ‘Nightingale what can I say? You’re a life saver.’

Hearing the heavy door of the war room creak open, Vivienne clicked her fingers for our attention as Cullen finally arrived.

‘Commander I hate to be one to tell you this, but being fashionably late is not fashionable on occasions such as these.’ informed Vivienne with an authoritative tone ‘A little more punctuality in the future my dear?’

Cullen sighed, joining a grinning Leliana and Cassandra at the table.

‘Shall we begin then?’ smiled Vivienne, snatching another ball that Varric had just produced. With a firm thud she placed it in the middle of the table.

‘Shouldn’t our second in Command be here before we start?’ muttered Cullen, throwing a roll of his eyes to Leliana, who suppressed a smile.

‘He just returned from Orlais today.’ informed Cassandra ‘I saw him in the stables but an hour ago.’

My eyes darted to the Seeker, who apparently knew a great deal more about Michel’s whereabouts than I did. It had been days and still no word from Michel.

‘He’s back then?’ I remarked spritely ‘Hold on, did you say Orlais? Michel was in Orlais all this time?’

Varric chuckled, nudging me in the ribs ‘Goldilocks didn’t tell you were he was going eh?’

‘He left before I could ask.’ I replied defensively, trying not to see Cullen’s smirk in the corner of my eye.

‘He did not tell me the particulars.’ answered Cassandra ‘Just that he needed to travel to Orlais for a few days.’

‘Ahem!’. Vivienne clicked her fingers sharply, and we all drew our attention to the woman. ‘May I continue? It may shine some light on the whereabouts of our dashing Maister of Blades.’. The mage plucked an ornate letter from the board she was carrying, one that looked suspiciously like Josephine’s, and placed it on the table. ‘This here is a formal letter from the Orlesian court declaring their new monarch, Emperor Gaspard, has just taken the throne. After that minor incident at the ball in the Winter Palace, he has finally been officially instated.’

‘Minor incident? You mean when Empress Celene was run through by Grand Duchess Florianne?’ chuckled Varric ‘Heck even for the Iron Lady that’s a harsh summary of what happened.’

The ambassador gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘My darling one expects assassinations and deceit within the monarchy. It’s like an ill-written play that’s been rehashed one too many times. Surely you of all people can appreciate that? Honestly it’s disappointing.’

‘Empress Celene’s death bored you then?’ I chortled.

‘Celene was weak and foolish, what can I say?’ sighed Vivienne ‘We warned her of an impending attempt on her life and what does she do? The silly woman throws a ball.’

‘I agree.’ piped in Cassandra.

‘Well shit, the Seeker and the Iron Lady just became the toughest nails at the war counsel.’ exclaimed an entertained Varric ‘Watch out Nightingale and Curly, you’re tame in comparison.’

‘I’m confused.’ I interrupted ‘If Gaspard is Emperor now, what has that got to do with Michel being in Orlais?’

The sound of footsteps approaching silenced the room, and we turned our heads to the door. Once more the heavy wood creaked opened, and in stepped the smiling Orlesian.

‘Speak of the devil.’ muttered Cullen.

‘The devil always did have good timing?’ chuckled Leliana.

Vivienne clapped her hands in delight. ‘My dear dear Michel, we were just speaking about you. Come in, come in! You’re just in time.’

‘I’m late but he is on time.’ scoffed Cullen, causing a small smile from Cassandra.

‘Vivienne it is good to see you again!’ greeted Michel pleasantly, graciously leaning forward to plant a kiss on her cheek ‘You are looking very well.’

Vivienne nodded, as if this was no news to her. ‘Naturally my dear! And may I say, your return to us is long overdue! Finally we have more refined company in the counsel.’

‘We’re not refined enough?’ called out Cullen, nudging Leliana in the ribs as she laughed beside him. Cullen turned to the spymaster, looking amused. ‘I don’t know why you’re laughing, you’re as common as the rest of us. Commoner even. The commonest of them all!’

Leliana raised a brow ‘Takes one to know one.’

Cullen chuckled.

Michel and Vivienne chatted for several minutes, until she finally let the man leave. Spotting me by the window, the Orlesian walked over and placed an affectionate kiss on my cheek.

‘Good travels?’ I frowned.

Michel placed another kiss on my cheek, lowering his voice ‘I am sorry ma cherie. Gaspard sent a carriage for me and the matter needed to be addressed immediately.’. Turning to the group, he waved his hand ‘My apologies to all of you for my sudden absence. I came from seeing Emperor Gaspard.’

The ambassador nodded as if it were old news. ‘Of course you have my dear. So what news does Gaspard bring? Has he redecorated the Winter Palace yet? I can just imagine the gaudy military pieces he’s put everywhere. A cannon by the staircase and some rusty swords on the wall. And all that smoke, Maker knows he’ll ruin every inch of that exquisite palace interior smoking like a chimney and keeping all those cats.’. Vivienne shook her head in disapproval.

‘You know what they say.’ chuckled Varric ‘Too much cat piss and cigars make poor company.’

‘Who says that?’ I mused ‘You just made that up.’

Varric tapped his nose ‘Give it six months and everyone will be saying it.’

‘Emperor Gaspard has pledged his allegiance to the Inquisition.’ continued Michel ‘Not to point out the obvious but this is a most fortunate alliance for the Inquisition.’

‘Gaspard is different from Celene.’ agreed Cullen ‘He’s by far a stronger supporter to our cause. And his strength lies in the military. It will be to our advantage.’

‘He also informed me he had information on an influential Orlesian noble that is smuggling Red Lyrium.’ added Michel ‘One that is working with Corypheus.’

Leliana looked up swiftly at the mention of a new enemy. ‘What noble?’

Withdrawing a note from a pouch secured on his belt, Michel handed it promptly to Leliana. ‘The Emperor could not trust to send this with a messenger so he asked for me to pass the details to the counsel.’

Unable to still see the reason for Michel’s journey, I looked curiously at the smiling Orlesian. ‘So why did Gaspard want to see you personally?’ 

Michel threw me a knowing wink, before looking around the table. ‘The Emperor has offered me a full pardon of the previous crimes accused against me under the rule of Empress Celene.’

‘Not a traitor anymore?’ muttered Cullen dryly.

‘Quite so.’ confirmed Michel soundly. The Orlesian looked proud as he stood there, indeed there was a spark in his eyes and an energy radiating off him. ‘Emperor Gaspard has reinstated my knighthood and I am once again Ser Michel de Chevin of the Academie des Chevaliers. My estates have been returned to me, and I am welcomed back into the Orlesian court with open arms.’

Varric clapped his hands in delight. ‘Goldilocks is a chevalier again! Good work for restoring your honour kid, although between you and me you never lost it just because some Empress said so.’

‘Congratulations Michel.’ smiled Cassandra ‘That is wonderful news.’

‘Thank you.’ replied Michel ‘It is more than I could have ever hoped for.’

Vivienne rubbed her hands in glee. ‘So that gorgeous little chateaux in Val Foret is yours once more? And the manor in Montford? How wonderful! My dear I can safely say your estates are some of the most envied in all of Orlais.’

‘All returned, yes.’ confirmed Michel pleasantly. He paused for a moment, running his hand across his jaw as if contemplating something. ‘There is something else that the Emperor wished to speak to me about. Something I feel I should disclose to the Inquisition.’

‘What is it?’ asked Leliana.

Michel nodded, casting a quick look to me before turning to Leliana. ‘The Emperor has offered me a role in his Honour Guard.’

‘My dear!’ gasped Vivienne, drawing her hands to her mouth ‘That is the highest ranking a Chevalier can ascend to, well apart from the Champion himself. What an honour to be offered such a position. The Emperor favours you greatly I see!’

Remaining quiet as the congratulations continued, I melted back into the shadows behind me. What was there to say? If Michel was to leave for greener pastures, what could I say to that? No one would judge him for it, especially after Cullen’s recent treatment. Lost in my thoughts, I was startled to feel Michel’s hand grab mine firmly. He squeezed it tight, smiling into my eyes before turning to the group once more.

‘Your congratulations is appreciated, however I have refused the offer from the Emperor.’ continued Michel ‘My place is here, serving the Inquisition. Here is where I want to be, and Gaspard respects my decision.’

Vivienne looked shocked, Varric and Cassandra happy, Leliana pleased, while Cullen merely rolled his eyes.

‘You’re staying then?’ I remarked, unable to conceal my delight.

‘Of course I am.’ affirmed Michel warmly ‘You cannot get rid of me that easily.’

‘Well heck we need to celebrate! To the Heral-…ah.’. Varric paused as he copped an elbow in the ribs from Cassandra. ‘Ahh well if we’re done here, I’m going to have a drink in the main hall if anyone wants to join me?’

‘Varric we haven’t even begun!’ remarked an amused Leliana.

‘Quite right my dears.’ agreed the Ambassador ‘Michel it is wonderful news that you are staying, but now we must move on.’. Drawing a deep breath, Vivienne held a dramatic silence. ‘Now my dears, in one month we are all invited to Denerim to attend the induction of Alistair Theirin to the Ferelden throne. Cassandra has sent affirmation that the Inquisition will be attending, so now we must prepare.’

‘Considering all things, I think a token appearance would suffice. Perhaps you should attend Vivienne?’ suggested Cassandra.

Vivienne snapped her fingers in annoyance at the Seeker, causing Cassandra to look up in surprise. ‘That is what is wrong with this counsel.’ lectured the mage ‘Considering all things. Let us say what we mean. Cullen has murdered Alistair’s partner and we need to address this before it snowballs out of control.’

‘I am quite certain there is no way to stop that snowball.’ muttered Cullen.

Vivienne waved a hand at the comment. ‘Nonsense! I’ve known many nobles that have murdered in Orlais and still maintained a good rapport at court. You cannot let this get in the way of how the realm sees us. The people of Ferelden support the Inquisition and we must be shown to support their new king.’

Varric frowned, drumming his large fingers on the wooden table. ‘I dunno. Are you saying we should all attend this induction? Even Curly here?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course she isn’t saying that.’ chortled Cullen.

Vivienne sighed ‘Of course I am.’

The Commander looked shocked ‘You cannot be serious. Our new king would have me arrested before I reached the gates of Denerim.’

‘And risk losing the favour of the people?’ dismissed Vivienne ‘No my dear Commander, fear not for you are safe. Your popularity amongst the people of Ferelden is vast. They see you as a Ferelden war chief leading the Inquisition to victory. That is something they genuinely respect. And in addition to your new role as Knight-Commander of the Templar Order, and Right Hand to the Divine, well need I say more? You are quite the popular figure these days.’

‘Vivienne, I murdered The Hero of Ferelden.’ retorted Cullen impatiently ‘Needless to say I won’t be gaining any popularity from that.’

The ambassador rolled her eyes ‘Do I need to be the one to educate you all on the public opinion of Sierra Amell?’

Leliana settled back in her seat with a smirk, apparently aware of what Vivienne was talking about. Meanwhile Cullen, Cassandra, Michel and Varric looked utterly lost. Being locked up the Ostwick tower, I also had no idea what the general opinion of Amell was.

Vivienne sighed, growing impatient at our apparent ignorance. ‘Yes Sierra was hailed a hero after killing the archdemon in Denerim. For a few months there her name was legendary. And then the cracks began to reveal themselves. Rumours started spreading of her close ties with the Cult of Andraste and her practicing of blood magic throughout the time she was trying to stop the blight. Of her involvement in desecrating the ashes of Andraste. Or the way she supported that dictator King Bhalen to claim the throne in Orzammer. Even the good people of Ferelden have their limits. Twelve years on, most people saw her as an ill-reputed grey warden, and many also believed she was the reason Alistair never claimed the throne after King Cailan’s death.’. Vivienne looked sharply at the Commander ‘Cullen believe me when I say the people of Ferelden would not judge you too harshly on your minor discrepancy.’

‘Minor discrepancy!’ echoed Varric in disbelief ‘Nicely put Iron Lady. All jokes aside though, let’s just say it as it is. Cullen is a god!’

‘Maker’s breath.’ muttered Cullen.

‘You may joke Varric, but there may be some truth behind it.’ observed Cassandra ‘Fereldens are very patriotic people. They see Cullen as one of their own, and someone that yields a great deal of honour, power, and protection. Naturally they claim a part of his success as their own.’

‘Right you are my dear.’ affirmed Vivienne ‘It would be political suicide for Alistair to lay a finger on Commander Cullen and I suspect he knows that.’

‘And if he doesn’t?’ interjected Leliana ‘We cannot send Cullen with the hopes that Alistair will play the game. From what I know of the man, and I do know him well, Alistair is not the type to play the game.’

‘He acts with his heart, not his head.’ agreed Cullen ‘If I go to Denerim then make sure I am well equipped for a battle.’

‘There is something you should know.’ I blurted out suddenly. The group turned to look at me in surprise, as if they had forgotten I was even in the room. ‘In Orlais, Michel and I spoke to Alistair after he learned of Cullen’s involvement in Sierra Amell’s death.’. Throwing an uneasy look to Leliana, I hesitated.

‘What did he say?’ asked Leliana.

Michel noticed my uneasiness and stepped in. ‘It was more as to what Alistair implied rather than what he said.’ answered Michel.

Leliana’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did he imply?’

‘Well, he spoke a great deal about Leliana and Cullen being…’. Michel frowned, trying to recall what was said before clicking his fingers ‘…sinister behemoths acting only in the interests of themselves.’

‘Lovely.’ remarked Cullen with displeasure.

‘He said that he would seek retribution for Sierra’s death as he saw fit.’ explained Michel.

The group looked uneasily at me, and I averted my eyes to the table, desperate to be distracted from their assumption.

‘So Alistair is after Sparrow then?’ remarked Varric in surprise.

‘Ophelia was there when Alistair said this. No, he was not threatening her.’ informed Michel confidently ‘Alistair mentioned that he knew where to strike and said something about the Maker forgiving him, or along those lines. I am most certain he was talking about Leliana.’

Leliana scoffed at the comment and Cullen shook his head in annoyance.

‘That is a dangerous game to play Alistair,’ whispered Leliana darkly ‘a very dangerous game.’. Her green eyes flashed to Michel and I sharply. ‘Did you not think I should have be informed about this the moment you found out?’

‘We should have.’ apologised Michel ‘Of course we were not certain. Speculation or not, you deserved to know.’

‘Communication is key my dears.’ sighed Vivienne ‘Do try to help each other, not hinder.’

Varric brushed his hands in satisfaction, as if the matter had resolved itself. ‘Well I guess that means we are all going to Denerim, well apart from Nightingale here who’s life may be in danger.’

Leliana looked vexed, standing up from her seat at the table. ‘Oh I’ll be there,’ she remarked coldly ‘there is nowhere else I’d rather be.’

‘Fun times ahead.’ mused Varric ‘Now who’s for a drink?’

‘Me.’ muttered Cassandra, raising to her feet ‘If that is all?’

Vivienne threw her board on the table, apparently defeated. ‘Fine my dears, counsel dismissed.’

****

Taking all our willpower not to ravish each other in the main hall, Michel and I retreated to his chambers and left the rest of the war counsel to drink away their night. Many kisses were stolen along the stone paths leading back to the chevalier’s quarters, and the trip took three times as long as it usually would as Michel stopped again and again to place a hungry kiss on my lips and neck. The chevalier hands and lips were eager to explore, only pausing to open his chamber door before hastily pulling me in with him.

Recommencing his intimate kisses, Michel drew me hard against him.

‘I need you Ophelia.’ he murmured in a low voice, his blue eyes consumed with lust. His lips brushed against my lips, teasing me to his mouth, again and again. Another sensual kiss followed, and this time the knight gently bit my bottom lip, a mischievous brilliant white smile to follow. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about this moment since it was robbed from us.’ he whispered.

‘-on the day of the Fisticuffs of the Commanders?’ I sighed ‘How could I forget.’

Michel looked amused, shaking his head in disapproval ‘I believe we can thank Varric for the popular aftermath of that fight. I hear he’s been re-telling the story every night at sunset at the Herald’s Rest.’

Grinning, I ran my hand across Michel’s cheekbone and gave my best Vivienne impression. ‘Your beauty is still intact my dear chevalier, that is the main thing.’

Michel’s lips moved to mine again, placing several more urgent kisses on my mouth as his fingers began to loosen my clothing. The knights breathing was deep and his blue eyes a little glazed, gently stroking the flesh his hands could reach under my tunic. Further his hands explored upwards, massaging my breasts and growing more eager by the moment.

Feeling his arousal hard through his clothing, my hands quickly began undoing his belt, eager to get closer. ‘Of course I should deny your pleasure as you so cruelly left me to go flouncing about Orlais.’ I teased.

Michel chuckled, pulling off his white tunic to expose his soft warm chest. Hard muscles and erect nipples, his abdomen firmly rippled and leading to a shapely v line. The man body was statuesque. My hands eagerly ran across his warm skin as my lips planting several deep kisses along his torso.

My hand slipped into Michel’s trousers, and I eased them down his legs as I fell to my knees. Flashing me a curious smile, he remained still as I kneaded my hands against his rock hard muscular thighs. Every inch of the man was tight and toned, and I could fully appreciate the efforts of his training now as he appeared in the raw. Of course that was not the only thing that I could appreciate….

Michel stepped out of the remaining attire, standing fully naked in front and his erection mast high. My hands wrapped around his full hardness, stroking the thick appendage up and down. With a smile, I noticed the heavy breathing from my companion, and his struggle to concentrate on any conversation as soon as the stroking began. His words faded away, replaced with a deep moan as he looked down at me. His shiny tip inches away from my mouth, I placed a kiss on the head of his cock. Michel breathed in deeply, a moan between his lips, and his member twitched in approval. Looking up I watched Michel’s head fall back in pleasure, exposing his beautiful neck, as I drew his cock into my mouth. He allowed me to guide the pace as I took him in, savouring the taste of his delectable schlong. Perhaps it was in his chivalrous nature, but there was no grabbing of my hair or fucking my mouth. It allowed me to take more time to enjoy his shaft, tasting his cock as I ran my tongue up and down his hardness and enjoying the pre-cum that teased my tastebuds as I reached lingered around his mushroom. Soon the chevalier was moaning into me and whispering my name breathlessly, trying to contain himself as the pleasure grew more and more intense. I could feel him stiffen and was half expecting his release when Michel pulled away with a groan.

‘That is unfair.’ he moaned ‘Never have I needed someone to stop and wanted them to never stop so much at the same time.’. Pulling me up to him, he kissed me deeply. ‘Let me make love to you.’ he murmured, his fingers hastily unbuttoning my top and pulling it over my head ‘I need you Ophelia.’

‘Then take me.’ I whispered in his ear.

The chevalier eased me back onto his bed, and I fell on a soft cream blanket. My heart skipped a few beats, enjoying the urgency of Michel’s lust. His politeness was fading as his primal urges took over. A smile turning into a serious expression of possessed desire. A determined flurry of tugs and he managed to remove my clothing in a matter of seconds, before kneeling over me raw and erect. A man wanting nothing more than to succumb to his primal urges.

Holding his member in one hand, the chevalier stroked his hardness slowly as he made his way between my legs. His body crawled over mine, his member on the tip of easing in. Michel dove into my mouth, lapping his tongue passionately, before driving his massive cock firmly up into me until our hips met. We moaned loudly, drowning in the heady sensation of lust. Gently he began to rock his hips, thrusting his thick shaft with a groan on his lips. His hardness splayed deep, bottoming out as he held himself still to savour the sensation engulfing his member before continuing to thrust once more.

‘Ma vhenan.’ murmured Michel, his blonde hair spilling over me as he kissed me all over my cheeks and chin, nose and forehead, neck and collarbone, thrusting slowly and deep in-between, over and over again.

My fingers desperately traced over his back, grabbing at his skin as if I were drowning, the pleasure of being fucked by this man becoming intense. Unbearably intense. Michel’s breathing became more ragged and his slow thrusts transformed into fast pounding as he fucked harder into me.

Neither of us were able to hold on for long. Hooking my legs over his arms, Michel planted his hands on either side of me and began to thrust with all his stamina. The man was strong, and his core muscles even stronger, as his hips bucked with intense rhythm. Every inch of his manhood being driven in and out, a relentless fucking that drove harder and harder, and as I tightened around him he knew I was close. Michel gave a few final hard thrusts, and we both cried out, a pleasurable groan from the chevalier as he pulsated his seed.

Still within me, Michel looked deeply satisfied, smiling as he placed several kisses on my lips. ‘I don’t want to leave this moment.’ he murmured, nuzzling his forehead against mine. Finally he withdrew and we both cradled each other on the bed.

‘That was wonderful.’ I murmured dreamily, still coming down from that blissful euphoria.

‘Most wonderful.’ chuckled Michel, wrapping his strong arms around me ‘The perfect ending to a perfect week.’

Looking across, I noticed the cheerful expression on his face and the brightness in his eyes. ‘Do you feel different now?’ I asked.

The chevalier threw me a curious look. ‘After making love to you?’ mused Michel ‘I feel better than ever, ma chérie.’

‘No.’ I grinned ‘I meant in regards to you being pardoned by Gaspard. It must have felt so strange being welcomed back into Orlais after all this time?’

Michel placed his hands behind his head to rest against, a poignant expression on his face ‘It changes nothing and yet in many ways it changes everything.’

‘That’s certainly cryptic.’ I exclaimed, stealing a few grapes from a plate on the bedside table.

‘Most importantly it means I am not disgraced, and therefore my honour has remained intact.’ observed Michel ‘Hopefully it means my adopted uncle, Comte Brevin de Chalons, will acknowledge me as his own once more.’

A grape slipped from my finger, falling onto the bed. ‘You mean, he disowned you when-‘

Michel’s blue eyes flashed across to me. ‘-when I was declared a traitor by Empress Celene? Yes.’ The chevalier tiredly rubbed his eyes as he turned back to look up at the ceiling. ‘Do not judge him so harshly, the Comte comes from a lineage of chevaliers where honour is held higher than anything else. His pride at seeing me rise to become a chevalier and then Champion to the Empress, only to then be declared a traitor would have destroyed him. He was like a father to me, and as unintentional as it was, it was I who brought him shame. It was I who caused him grief. I wrote to him when I first arrived at Skyhold. The letter was sent back to me, with a note attached saying the Chalons do not correspond with traitors of the kingdom.’

Throwing him a sad look, I shrugged. ‘You are more forgiving than I would have been in the situation.’

Michel shook his head. ‘Comte Brevin and I shared a very strong bond since the day he took me in from the alienage. He looked to me as a son, and I to him as a father. Even though he had his own son, Quillian de Chalons, it very clear that I was the favourite. Perhaps because I lived the life that Comte Brevin upheld as being ideal. I believe he liked to live vicariously through me, as some parents are guilty of. To live as a skilled chevalier, and then become Champion to the Empress. Quillian never made it into the Chevalier Academie and was more interested in becoming a courtier instead. That was something that Comte Brevin detested.’. Michel shrugged ‘That is who Quillian is. The day I was named champion to Empress Celene, Comte Brevin gifted me his large estate on the outskirts of Val Royeaux so I could live comfortably near the Imperial Palace. Quillian was furious, calling me nothing more than a thieving bastard. The Comte defended me and in front of the entire household declared that I was as much a part of the de Chalons family as Quillian.’. Michel went quiet, falling deep into his thoughts.

‘Michel?’ I remarked

‘You could have gifted me a million estates in Orlais and it would not have meant as much as hearing those words come from Comte Brevin’s lips.’ continued Michel softly ‘That I was his family.’. The chevalier sighed heavily, sitting himself up in the bed ‘My shame was their shame. Now my honour can be theirs once more. It is the least I can give them considering all that the Comte did for me. To now be so favoured by Emperor Gaspard as I am will only make my transition back into his life easier, if he is willing. I must be grateful for that chance, at the very least.’

A weak smile on my face, I looked to the chevalier. ‘You have everything you have ever wanted. Your family will accept you once more. Your title and lands are yours once more. The Orlesian court now welcomes you back.’. Running my hands through my brown hair, twisted in knots, I frowned. ‘You now have a wonderful life awaiting you back in Orlais. Why wouldn’t you want to go back to all that?’

Michel nodded in agreement, rubbing the light stubble on his jaw. ‘I never mentioned it to you, well considering it was no longer mine there was no reason to, but I own many properties across Orlais. My smallest manor has fifteen rooms, my largest has seventy two. I own dairy farms, mills, vineyards and even a number of shops in Val Foret and Halamshiral. My kitchen hands live in far better quarters than my chamber here.’. Michel looked around the room with a small smile. ‘If I had to be honest, I desperately crave the Orlesian cuisine the more I am away, as do I the fine harpsichord music that is always played after supper. I even miss the smell of the fresh salt air coming off the Waking Sea. And at times I would offer my right arm just for a whiff of the rich aroma of Orlesian coffee at mid-morning. To have a few cups of it a day…ahhh.’. The chevalier smiled fondly, looking back towards me. Pulling me into his arms, he held me tight. ‘Ophelia none of that matters as long as I am with you.’ added Michel, placing a kiss on my cheek ‘I already had everything I wanted before Emperor Gaspard returned everything to me.’

At that we fell into a kiss, and I tried to hide the tears in my eyes. I felt loved. With Michel, I felt like I truly belonged.

****

‘It’s pronounced salve, not sav. Nor sal-ve.’ instructed Jowan, pointing at the buttery coloured ointment on the table before the mages ‘No one is going to have faith in you treating them with an ointment you cannot even say properly.’

A few mages chuckled while a few looked sheepish, knowing they had been saying it incorrectly all this time.

Sweeping his long black hair through his fingers, Jowan turned back to the manuscript before him. Running his finger down the column, he stopped at a particular passage with a tap.

‘Can anyone tell me what they would do should they find themselves out of concentrator agent? inquired Jowan, casting his dark eyes across the sea of faces before him.

‘Go to the supply cupboard?’ grinned a mage.

Jowan rolled his eyes, a smile on his face. ‘Now why didn’t I think of that? Well on the off chance that the cupboard is being guarded by a mob of foul ogres, what should we do?’

Silence blanketed the room.

‘Heatherum and Foxite, distilled at a purity of 80% and higher.’ informed Jowan sagely, tapping his finger on the table ‘Write that down and memorise it. I remember back when I was an apprentice in the circle one of our supply wagons was robbed before it reached us and we were without concentrator agent for a month. Except where we were there was little Foxite to be found, being on Lake Calenhad, so it was even more difficult to replicate. We discovered arrowleaf to be a good substitute.’

‘You were from the Circle Tower in Ferelden?’ inquired one of the mages, a young woman with brilliant blue eyes ‘I was from there also but I do not remember you?’

Jowan looked at the curious mages before him, their faces so familiar and yet to them he was a new and unknown mentor. However it was a chance for them to meet the real Jowan, and yet he still he did not know how much of himself he wished to reveal. For no one would understand his choices to practice blood magic as he did, and serve his own selfish agenda throughout the years. Perhaps some things were better left untold if no one specifically asked.

‘Well I haven’t been there for twelve years or so now.’ chuckled Jowan ‘I fear I am a fair bit older than yourself. If you were there when I was, you would have been a very young child and most likely would not have remembered me.’

‘I would have remembered you…I-I mean.’ The woman blushed, and a few mages giggled at her bashfulness.

Jowan smiled, quickly changing the subject for her benefit as much as his. ‘Now as I was saying before, there are always other ways to substitute in potion making.’ continued Jowan ‘Of course the old fuddy duddy potion masters that write this drivel would have you believe you must only use what they scribe in their overpriced tombs that sell for hundreds of gold pieces. Or even worse, that you must purchase the overpriced materials that they only sell at their lucrative potion shops. But we know better, do we not?’

The mages grinned, eager to hear more from their learned mentor.

Turning to his alchemist table, Jowan began to pour a vial of blue liquid into a round glass decanter before he noticed a ginger haired woman smirking at him from the doorway. The mage flashed her a grin, and commenced to pour the blue liquid into a glass of red liquid, the two combining into a clear purple colour. Murmuring some words under his breath, Jowan raised his hand to the glass and it glowed for several seconds. Then lifting the glass to his lips, Jowan proceeded to drink the contents before slowly…fading…..away.

The mages gasped, and spun around in their seats to search for Jowan.

It worked they whispered to one other, their minds slowly filling with doubt. Did it work? Where did he go? The confused mages searched around the room, their eyes flitting from here to there.

With a frown, the spymaster also tried to spot where Jowan had gone. Amongst the growing chatter of the mages Leliana never noticed her velvet pouch being carefully removed from her belt, or the playful invisible arm that was waving in front of her face. It was only when she heard the whisperings of a male voice beside her ear, and the image of Jowan’s self reappearing that she realised what had just happened.

‘Am I supposed to be impressed by petty theft?’ asked an indignant Leliana, crossing her arms in amusement.

Jowan juggled her purse a few times in jest, before offering it back.

‘You’re impressed, admit it?’ he replied with a grin.

Leliana laughed. ‘It was mildly entertaining.’ she yawned ‘But honestly, an invisibility potion? I thought you were teaching these mages something exciting.’

The mages laughed at her comment, and Jowan joined in as he returned to his table once more.

‘Am I missing something here?’ asked a confused Leliana ‘Did your mentor not just turn invisible?’

‘Aye he did, but it was not an invisibility potion mistress.’ piped in one of the mages ‘It was only coloured water and an incantation we created just before. Nothing more.’

Crossing her arms, Leliana scoffed. ‘You want me to believe you created a potion out of coloured water?’

Jowan nodded, crossing his arms in smug satisfaction. ‘Like I said before, there are many different ways to make a potion…if you dare break away from the traditional rules.’. Clapping his hands, he jumped up ‘Good work everyone. That will be all for today, go get yourself some tea from the main hall.’

The mages saluted Jowan goodbye, a few flashing him wide smiles, as they departed the mage tower. Leliana chuckled, closing the door behind the last mage.

‘Enjoying being back in mage tower?’ she asked with a grin, already knowing the answer.

Jowan commenced to pack away the herbs and salves on the table, holding a satisfied expression on his face. ‘It never ceases to amaze me how eager these people are to learn when they are in a safe environment. No templars around and suddenly you realise these mages have personalities and jokes and dreams and potential. I never experienced it when I was living in the tower. Their minds are like sponges Leliana, soaking in every bit of knowledge that I can offer.’. Jowan drew in a deep breath, as if energised by the prospect. ‘These mages are our future and they are going to change the realm.’

‘You look happy.’ acknowledged Leliana ‘It suits you Jowan.’

‘I am.’ admitted Jowan, a small curl on his lip.

His long black hair caught the afternoon sunlight coming in through a window and revealed an emerald sheen like that of a raven’s wing; the cracked sliver of brightness spilled across his crown and down his handsome white cheek and broad neck. Turning his dark eyes from the brightness, they diverted to meet Leliana’s, yet Jowan was surprised when Leliana suddenly looked away. Running her hand through her ginger hair, she analysed the floor for a moment before heading to the door rather swiftly.

‘Is there something you wanted?’ called out Jowan, adding with a smirk ‘Or were you just here for the magic show?’

Leliana looked back, flashing her smiling green eyes to him and holding them there for a few seconds. ‘You’re doing fine and that’s all I wanted to know.’ she replied warmly.

Turning to leave the tower, Leliana held a fond smile on her lips, unaware that Jowan held the exact same one as he continued to pack away his salves.

****

‘Curly I thought you were a man of honour, but here you are cheating!??’ protested Varric, thrusting his hand at the chess board with a chuckle ‘All bets are off.’

With a boisterous laugh, Cullen moved another piece. ‘Varric there is a difference between cheating and genuine skill. I possess the latter. And you better keep your end of the bargain. Your turn.’

With a groan, Varric studied the board for several minutes. Tugging at his gold chain and furrowing his brow, the rogue eventually moved his queen forward.

Cullen swiftly moved in his queen and took Varric’s. ‘Check mate.’

The dwarf grasped his face in horror, moaning at the defeat. ‘You’re killing me here Curly. I take it back, no deal.’

‘Too late.’ chuckled Cullen ‘You have to do it.’

Head and shoulders slumped forward, Varric departed the terrace, dragging his feet along the pavement. Noticing me approach, the dwarf shook his head.

‘Everything alright?’ I asked.

‘Curly just beat me in chess.’ grumbled Varric ‘If you see him, give him the finger from me.’

Chuckling at the sore loser as he slouched away, I caught sight of Cullen sitting in the terrace in the herb gardens. Intrigued as to why Varric was so dismal, I approached the Commander as he sat there peacefully, reading a book. Noticing me in the corner of his eye, Cullen snapped the book shut.

‘Care for a game?’ asked the Commander, a smirk on his lips.

‘Are we playing nice today, or shall I ready myself for another argument?’ I observed dryly.

To be honest, that was the way it had been lately. I was still not entirely certain where Cullen and I stood these days. For some days we were able to hold a civil conversation that bordered on pleasant, and on other days he would only greet me with short words, snide remarks and stern looks.

Cullen stroked his jaw, as if seriously contemplating what I had said ‘Tricky question.’. Finally, the templar broke out into a broad smile. ‘Ophelia please. The afternoon sun is shining, the flowers are blooming and there are no messengers harassing me. How could one do anything but play nice?’

I replied with a suspicious glare. ‘Unlike Varric, I am well aware you are the best at chess in Skyhold.’

‘Just Skyhold?’ remarked a surprised Cullen ‘That can’t be right?’

Taking my seat, Cullen clapped his hands in approval.

‘I’m only doing this to cut your ego down to size.’ I warned.

His chiselled jaw held a large smile as he prepared the board, setting the pieces so perfectly and accurately apart that I began to laugh at the obsessiveness.

‘Just chuck the pieces on already.’ I teased ‘It’s not a battle plan Cullen.’

‘You see, this is why I win each and every time.’ observed Cullen calmly, taking his time to line up the pawns with meticulous precision ‘Discipline of mind, from the board to the very game itself.’

Groaning at his smugness, I flicked my hand away. ‘Blah-dee-blah-blah-blah says the glib expert.’

Running his hand across his jaw, Cullen concealed a smile with his hand ‘Noble ladies first.’ he teased.

Throwing him a look of daggers, I shoved my pawn forward and waited in silence. Cullen analysed the board for several moments, his mind ticking over what to do until I couldn’t handle the suspense.

‘Oh come now!’ I exasperated ‘You cannot be strategizing on the first move.’

‘When you make your final move you’ll soon realise how important the first move actually was.’. Cullen moved a piece and settled back into his chair. ‘Your turn.’

‘And here I thought it was Blackwall’s turn.’ I muttered under my breath. Looking at the board, I noticed Cullen staring at me with a fond smile. Moving another pawn, I raised my brow. ‘Now that’s how you play chess.’

Chuckling, the templar quickly moved another piece. It left him exposed and I knew I could take a piece on this move.

‘Should we make things interesting?’ asked Cullen, rubbing his shoulders as he stretched in his chair ‘A little wager to spice things up?’

‘If Varric’s face was anything to go by, I don’t know whether I can handle a little wager of yours.’ I mused ‘What in the blazes did he lose to?’

Cullen shrugged ‘Nothing of any consequence. Come now, just a small wager. It can be your choice?’

‘We can bet money I suppose?’ I shrugged.

‘If you had any.’ Cullen replied cynically.

‘Touché.’ I chuckled ‘Perhaps I was not meant to be a gambler. Although come to think of it, there is something you could do if I win.’. I waved my hand, shaking my head ‘Forget it. You’re too proud to do it.’

‘What?’ remarked Cullen suspiciously, the smirk on his face growing wider ‘I know that look and it’s not good.’

‘Apologise to Michel for your behaviour in front of the Herald’s Rest.’ I replied sharply, crossing my arms ‘In front of all the patrons at the Herald.’

‘He wants an apology, does he?’ mused Cullen ‘Bruised his ego, did I?’

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. ‘No, but I think he deserves one. Don’t you?’

‘Fine.’ agreed Cullen pleasantly, adding with a devious smile ‘And if I win all I ask is for….one kiss.’

‘Where?’ I asked suspiciously, causing the templar to burst out into laughter.

‘Where indeed!’ chuckled Cullen, running his hands through his sandy locks ‘On the lips. Mine, that is. Just one. Purely innocent. And besides, there is little risk considering you intend to win?’

‘I don’t think Michel would approve of that wager.’ I chortled ‘It’ll have to be something else Commander.’

‘A good hard tryst then?’ suggested Cullen wickedly ‘The rose garden is close by?’

‘Try again.’

‘Dinner in my quarters?’ asked Cullen innocently.

Groaning, I took one of his pieces off the board with my pawn.

‘Well Ophelia you really make it hard for me, I’m fresh out of ideas here.’ protested Cullen, moving another piece on the board and taking one of my pieces.

The Commander looked around the garden, a content smile on his face. He looked at peace and I for one was glad for it. Perhaps we were not together anymore, but I only wished well for the man. I wanted Cullen to find a happiness and a peace that had alluded him in former years.

‘So what have you been up to lately?’ I asked casually ‘Apart from working.’

‘Hah!’ scoffed the Commander ‘You mean I have time to spare in-between training recruits, templars and attending to Chantry matters? Sounds like a dream rather than reality, Ophelia.’

‘That busy?’ I frowned.

‘Busier.’ confirmed Cullen ‘Of course that only makes me wish I’d spent my spare time more wisely, when I had it. A very long time ago.’. Leaning over, he took another piece off the board. ‘I believe I heard a bard in Kirkwall sing a song once about wasted youth. When all the red apples from the tree are ripe and ready to be eaten, and yet the abundance of pleasure renders the fruit less sweet in the eyes of the young man. He leaves the orchard in pursuit of oranges or something’. Cullen waved his hand, shaking his head ‘And then the young man grows old and finds himself in a barren orchard and bitterly weeps at the memory of one bite of a red apple.’

‘It’s sad when there’s no apples around.’ I chuckled.

‘Well quite right.’ laughed Cullen ‘And here we are only dealing with Corypheus? Puts it all into perspective.’

Cullen’s amber eyes drew me in and we grew silent for a moment, bathing in the content moment.

‘This is nice.’ remarked Cullen in a lower voice, leaning over again to take a piece.

‘It will do.’ I teased, looking around the terrace ‘I could get quite used to doing nothing.’

‘Check mate.’ chuckled Cullen, waving his hand to the board where I had most definitely lost.

‘Ah.’ I replied with a frown.

The Commander tilted his head with a smile. ‘Well if I cannot kiss your mouth, at least may I kiss your hand?’

He drew up to stand before me, and I presented my hand with a laugh.

‘Fine, do your worst.’ I ordered ‘I suppose that’s a sufficient punishment for losing chess to you.’

‘Don’t tempt me to think of something else.’ Cullen replied huskily, lifting my hand to his mouth. His amber eyes held mine as he pressed his lips against my skin. I caught my breath, relishing the feeling of the softness of his touch. A familiar and intimate touch that reminded me of so much more. Suddenly Cullen drew his hands to cup my face, and gently drew his lips to mine as he planted a kiss on my mouth.

Shivering in that flighty moment, I felt Cullen’s arms wrap around my waist and pull me tight against him. The templar left a lingering kiss on my lips, finally withdrawing with a pleased smirk.

‘What was that!?’ I blurted out.

Cullen took a step back and chuckled. ‘It’s funny you know? I used to ask myself how Michel could steal a kiss off you when you were with someone else. But you know what? It is rather satisfying when all is said and done, and easier accomplished than I imagined.’

Throwing him a dirty look, I departed the terrace. ‘Goodbye Cullen.’

‘You enjoyed it, admit it?!’ called out Cullen with a smirk ‘Shall we keep this between us for a while, only for me to let it slip to Michel one day by accident?’

Furiously I turned back to the templar. ‘If your intention was to lure me into a kiss to make Michel jealous then spare me the drama. I’ll tell him about it before the day is done.’

Cullen rubbed his neck, looking a little ashamed at his behaviour. Moving back to the chess board, the templar began to pack away the pieces. ‘I kissed you because I wanted to.’ he murmured, looking up at me with sincerity ‘I miss that red apple.’

My frown fading, I threw Cullen a silent nod before leaving him alone in the terrace once more.


	62. Sacrifice

There was a certain enchantment in the stillness of morning that Jowan could never get enough of. When the warm sun had just begun to peak over the mountains and filter in through the lead glass window. Few people had arisen at that hour, and even fewer had descended into the keep to commence their day. Skyhold was calm and at peace, and yet there was more to it than that. In those early moments, the day ahead was filled with the promise of marvellous things that had yet to happen. It was a strange concept to grasp. For years Jowan had only felt fear upon waking in the morning, his heart racing as he realised the day had just begun. Would this be the day he was caught by the templars? Would this be the day his life would be forfeit? Long were those terrible mornings. Yet now? Now Jowan couldn’t wait to begin the day.

With a spring in his step, the mage cheerfully prepared the alchemists table to create a new batch of strong healing potions. A bunch of dried elfroot in one hand, and a pestle in the other, he was determined to grind a fine powder before the mages came bustling into the tower.

‘Well well, if it isn’t Riddles?’ remarked a familiar dwarven voice.

Keeping his pestle in mid-air, Jowan’s attention drew to the door of the mages tower where Varric poked his head. A grin on his face, he threw a wave.

‘What will we do with a zealous mage?’ sang Varric ‘What will we do with a zealous mage? What will be do with a zealous mage? Early in the morning…in the mage’s tower!’

A smirk on lips, Jowan commenced pestling the herbs before him. ‘I recall shave his belly with a rusty razor is tradition? However I don’t recommend you do that to a mage surrounded with spells and potions and other sharp instruments.’

The rogue chuckled, raising his hands. ‘Trust me after time with Anders in Kirkwall, I would never come between a mage and his work station. You’d like him, you know? Lots of similarities there.’

Pausing from his task, Jowan threw his companion a cynical look. ‘Wasn’t Anders the one who blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall?’ he asked dryly.

Varric chuckled a little uneasily. ‘Come on Riddles. You gotta admit you both have a knack of making terrible choices.’

‘Riddles?’ remarked Jowan wryly.

‘Congratulations, it’s your new nickname!’ exclaimed Varric, clapping his hands in applause ‘Now I gotta be honest, there were a few contenders there. Jowanwolf was my personal favourite. And Trickster. Malificowan was another. Ah but I knew they’d attract too many questions. In the end, the winner was Riddles.’

Jowan looked utterly baffled. ‘Not to be ungrateful that my nickname didn’t end up being Malificowan, but dare I ask why it is Riddles?

‘Heck if you’re not a riddle Jowan, I don’t know who is.’ declared Varric ‘You’re confusing, mysterious and bloody hard to figure out.’

Jowan shrugged, half agreeing. ‘I’ve had worse assessments thrown at me I suppose.’ he replied casually, turning to gather some more dried elfroot hanging from a nearby wooden beam. He turned back to notice Varric suddenly looking uneasy. The rogue was fiddling with several empty vials, a piece of jade and a loose scroll lying on the work station before him. Any former jovialness had now transformed into quietude, and his attention was oddly fixated on the inanimate objects. ‘Is there anything I can help you with, Varric?’ Jowan inquired ‘It appears there is something on your mind?’

Rubbing his neck, Varric chuckled uneasily. ‘That obvious, am I? Ah heck, well you know how I’ve been appointed this new role. The one working on the war counsel? Well, uh, the thing is being Skyhold’s step-in spymaster has made me think about a hell of a lot of things lately. And I dunno, I feel more responsible for my actions. Hey, call it a guilty conscience? Or maybe it was a bad batch of stew I ate last night? Either way, something needs to be done about it.’

‘I’m not sure I have a remedy for either of those things.’ replied Jowan with a raised brow. ‘I find chamomile is good to settle a sore stomach. Peppermint is not so good for digestion, contrary to popular belief. Slippery elm bark is beneficial however, depending on how bad the stew is coming out-‘

Varric chuckled, shaking his hands. ‘Fjolnord’s beard! No no no that’s not it.’. The dwarf looked at the mage before him, who remained calm, collected and slightly suspicious. Varric sighed, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat ‘Come on now, have you forgotten the large elephant in the room?!’

‘Remind me?’ the mage replied warily, turning back to his work.

‘Cassandra.’ hinted Varric.

A sudden revelation hit him and Jowan’s colour turned a deathly white. ‘You are referring to our involvement in saving Cassandra’s life.’ he murmured.

Clicking his fingers, Varric nodded. ‘Yeah that elephant.’

‘Have you told her?’ asked the mage swiftly, crossing his robed sleeves somewhat defensively. Jowan looked more than a little concerned. ‘What exactly is going on here?’

‘Heck I’m too scared to even think about telling her.’ muttered Varric ‘But I gotta be frank with you Riddles, lately I’ve been getting close to the Seeker. You know what I mean? And now I just don’t feel right keeping this elephant from her any longer.’

The mage looked unsettled. ‘Surely the only thing that matters then is that she is alive?’ pointed out Jowan ‘The end justifies the means and all that.’

Varric sighed, shaking his head. ‘Jowan, we have to tell her.’

Dragging his fingers through his black hair, the mage groaned in displeasure. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. Or any moment. ‘Varric I know your intentions are good but there are some things in life that are best left buried away at the back of your closet where no one will ever find them. This situation is more complicated than you wish to know. Trust me, you’d be better to just let it be.’

‘Remind me not to search in your closet!’ chuckled Varric

‘A wise move.’ muttered Jowan.

The rogue was amused, a beam on his face before noticing how sombre his companion remained. ‘Ah shit, what did you do?’ Varric asked apprehensively ‘How exactly did you save the Seeker?’

Jowan’s black eyes turned away from Varric, an uneasy hand swiping back the hair from his brow as he recommenced grinding his herbs. ‘You are well aware that I am a malificar.’ observed the mage quietly ‘You must have anticipated what was going on in that room when I saved Cassandra’s life?’

Varric’s frame began to slump as he begun to understand what Jowan was implying. ‘It was a deal, wasn’t it?’ he grimaced ‘Ah curse it, I thought you were going to just make a potion or I dunno cut your arm and chant something. Please don’t tell me you did a deal?’. The mage’s silence was all that Varric needed as confirmation. ‘Ahhhh shit.’

‘Yes, but there’s more.’ added Jowan in a low voice, slowly pressing the herbs with a strong arm.

Varric groaned.

Jowan nodded solemnly, his black eyes drawing up. ‘The demon I made a deal with was…Imshael.’

Looking flabbergasted, Varric threw his hands in the air. ‘Riddles have you lost the plot? Of all the demons out there why would you make a deal with that one again?!!!’

‘There was no time to go demon shopping, Varric.’ snapped Jowan irritably ‘Imshael answered and agreed to help me save Cassandra’s life. If he hadn’t then she would be dead right now.’

Contemplating the situation before him, Varric now looked green. ‘We’re screwed.’ he moaned ‘I guess that’s it then. Might as well pack our bags right now and flee into the night. ‘Cause if that demon isn’t the death of us, I know the Seeker and Curly will be.’

‘And Michel.’ added Jowan softly, drawing away from the bench to gather some concentrator agent. .

Varric groaned again. ‘There’s more??!!’ he exclaimed in disbelief ‘What has Michel got to do with this?’

Jowan pursed his lips, looking displeased as he poured the liquid into a vial. ‘Well it was a deal, remember? I had to give something in return. Imshael required information about Michel’s elvish heritage. His clan name, specifically. So I gave it him.’

‘Okay now we are officially dead.’ sighed a defeated Varric.

‘A rather accurate prophecy.’ agreed Jowan, pulling away from his work to address his companion with his full attention. ‘Varric if you tell anyone about this they will not understand. What’s happened has happened, and there is nothing to change that now.’. The mage rolled his eyes, returning to his work. He picked up a glass vial and agitated it, an even more agitated expression on his face. ‘You are well aware that I am not exactly in anyone’s good books these days, and this is hardly going to help matters. You know what I speak of. Athalwolf Guildersleeve pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes? You of all people must despise me for what I did to Cassandra. Yet you’ve never said anything to me about it since I returned to Skyhold? Why is that, Varric?’

Varric shook his head, as if the matter had weighed on his mind more than he cared to admit it. ‘I gotta be honest with you Riddles. At first, Bianca was going to pay you a visit and repay what you did to the Seeker in her room. And then Nightingale told me how Sierra Amell was behind it, and how your hand had been forced.’. Varric waved his hand, snorting at the fact. ‘Shit, like that changed anything! There was still a bolt with your name on it and I knew where to put it. Ah, but then I remembered that day when Cassandra was dying. How Brother Crispin came and told me there was nothing to be done for her. That-’. Varric grew quiet, as if struggling with the words. ‘-that Cassandra was going to die. And I begged you to help me and I asked you if there was anything you could do. You told me there was blood magic and I agreed. Heck, you did the one thing you could to save her life.’. The rogue punched his fist into the palm of his other hand ‘Some part of me wants to kill you for what you did to the Seeker. Then again in some twisted way, Riddles, you’re the only reason she’s alive now and I’m indebted to you. Messed up huh? Heck to add further salt to the wound I’m also to blame for this situation we’re in. Shit, I guess the jokes on me, eh?’

The mage look ashamed. ‘I cannot forgive myself for what I did so why should you?’ he lamented ‘Yet I assure you there was no other way to save her except to make a deal with a demon. And no time either, mind you. I had to take the first demon that would agree to help. Imshael appeared and the deal was done. A deal that I had hoped would not stem into further bloodshed, although to be honest I cannot be certain what Imshael did with that information, or even why he wanted it? At the end of the day however we cannot change the past. All we can do now is move on.’

Varric raised a brow to the mage, looking unconvinced.

With a heavy sigh, Jowan placed down the vial sharply on the bench. ‘It’s not going to be pretty.’

‘Whenever is it?’ laughed Varric.

‘Fine.’ resided a defeated Jowan, heading for the door ‘Come on then, I suppose we have some explaining to do.’

*****

Humming a tune under her breath, Leliana unpacked the final items from her loft into the new study appointed to her. It resided on the battlements, in-between Cullen’s study and the mages tower, and provided a spectacular view of the Frostback Mountains peaked with shimmering white snow. Leaving the rookery had made a world of difference to her wellbeing, and Leliana soon realised that out of sight sometimes really did mean out of mind. After removing the cobwebs, splintered furniture and several inches of dust, her room had been transformed into a splendid study. There was a sturdy desk beside the window, a long clock, several chests filled with important papers, a heavily laden bookcase filled with The Volumes of Thedas, and a red woollen rug on the floor. A ladder led up to her bedroom loft, similar to Cullen’s, and afforded her a comfortable bed to sleep in. It may have not have been as decadent as she would have liked, but it would do the trick.

Staring out the latticed window, Leliana continued to hum a tune as she lost herself in the view outside. A series of sharp knocks distracted the content moment and she begrudgingly made her way to greet the unknown guest. Pulling the tired creaking door open, and a familiar face smirked back at her. Without waiting for an invitation, Cullen moved past her, patting his hand on her arm as he entered the room. The Commander ran his eyes around the space before him, a whistle on his lips.

‘So this is the new headquarters?’ mused Cullen ‘You look pleased with yourself. Decorating tickled your fancy I see.’

Leliana rolled her eyes. ‘Four hours of cleaning and I have a sneaky suspicion this room was used by your mercenaries to play cards and drink ale when they should have been on duty. I found a lost pair of jacks in the corner, an empty bottle of Alvarado’s Bathtub Boot Screech, an Inquisition leather scabbard and an old sock.’

‘Sounds like a fun night.’ chuckled Cullen. The templar folder his arms across his chest sternly, his voice suddenly turning authoritative, albeit in a mocking way. ‘Now tell me, Leliana, do you happen to know anything about a rather annoying chap with a brown braid that appears to be following my every move around the keep? Claims to be a thatcher although I’ve never actually seen him do any thatching per se, nor anyone else. Strange, wouldn’t you say?’

Leliana suppressed a smile, turning away from the Commander quickly. He pointed at her sharply, playfully outraged. ‘You’ve got your annoying little agents keeping an eye on me, haven’t you?’

‘Haven’t a clue what you talking about.’ she lied.

The templar looked unimpressed. ‘Dare I ask why you are doing this?’

‘You may dare all you want, but it won’t change my mind.’ she replied airily ‘You may be more alert these days Commander, but you’ll find I’ve had a watchful eye on you ever since you wandered into Kirkwall all those years ago. I guess the jokes on you.’

Cullen chuckled, only to realise the spymaster was being serious. ‘You’ve been spying on me this entire time?!’

‘Spying? I’m sorry to say it Cullen but you’re not that interesting.’ she teased ‘However perhaps it was within my means to protect you from afar, and perhaps I did just that. Now is no different, if anything you need it more these days with all your different roles. There are people out there that would seek to do you harm.’

‘A fine thought.’ retorted the man dryly. The templar’s eyes narrowed ‘Call off your man.’

‘Fine.’ sighed Leliana ‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you around anymore.’

Cullen was about to respond when he was distracted by his companion. Leliana’s grin transformed into a broad smile, a small bite on her lip as she contemplated something.

Clicking his fingers at the woman, the Commander settled down into her chair at the desk. ‘Out with it, Maker knows you’re about to burst.’

‘Am I that obvious?’ she grinned.

Looking the spymaster up and down, Cullen smirked. ‘It’s like watching you bluff in Wicked Grace.’

Swiftly she grabbed a letter from her desk and thrust it towards the Commander. ‘A new member shall be joining us at Skyhold.’ Leliana informed eagerly ‘Someone I travelled with in former days. She was an advisor to Empress Celene, and from what my sources tell me she was disliked by many and considered somewhat of a sinister influence. However this matters little when one is protected under the wing of the Empress. Now being in the position where her employer is dead, she is hoping to find another wing. To join the Inquisition and start afresh. Her name is Morrigan.’

Cullen frowned as he perused the letter. ‘You mean that witch of the wilds that joined Sierra and Alistair to help end the blight? Yes I recall you telling me of her. Mostly about what you didn’t like of her.’

Leliana laughed. ‘Then you were listening?’

‘Always.’ grinned Cullen, throwing the letter on the desk. ‘So why are we so eager to bring this mage into our flock? You must have some faith in her after all?’

‘I wouldn’t trust Morrigan as far as I could throw her.’ frowned Leliana ‘She is self-serving egotist and dabbler in the game, considering the recent company she kept. I never thought her the type and that makes me even more suspect of the woman. Any allegiance she pledges to the Inquisition must be taken with a grain of salt’

‘So naturally you are welcoming her here with arms wide open.’ mused Cullen.

Leliana looked privy to some important information. She tapped her nose and grinned. Cullen groaned.

‘Maker’s breath, does this look like an Orlesian parlour? Are we playing a game of charades here?’ he jeered.

‘We could if you like?’ teased Leliana.

‘Out with it, damn you!’ ordered Cullen, a wide smile on his strong jaw.

The spymaster laughed, taking delight in the templar’s dry wit. ‘Alright, alright. Whilst I was traveling with Sierra, I was particularly close to an elf named Zevran. Remember? He was an assassin, much like myself. He and I were similar in many ways, and we got along very well.’

Cullen chuckled ‘The Antivan Crow that had a crush on Alistair? Yes I remember you telling me about him.’

Leliana brushed her finger across her lip, as if contemplating whether to disclose something or not. ‘If I tell you something will you promise to keep it only to yourself? Never to tell anyone else you may be close to.’

The Commander narrowed his eyes, a bemused smile on his lips ‘Even Michel?’

Leliana rolled her eyes and the templar chuckled.

‘Fine, fine.’ agreed Cullen ‘Tell me!’

Leliana drew closer, her voice growing quieter. ‘After the blight was over, Zevran spent a few weeks at the Denerim palace before moving on. They were all invited to stay a while at the castle by Anora, you see? A gesture of goodwill. Zevran told me that one night he was reading in one of the living rooms at the palace and a rather drunk Sierra showed up with a bottle of wine. They began drinking and she began talking.’

‘Had a few secrets did she?’ muttered Cullen ‘About what?’

The spymaster looked pleased with herself as she continued. ‘The night before the final battle against the archdemon, Sierra and Alistair were saying their goodbyes. They had recently learnt that whoever dealt the final killing blow to the archdemon would die.’

‘Why would that happen?’ frowned the templar.

Leliana shrugged ‘Apparently it was inevitable. That the essence of the archdemon would go into the Grey Warden that slayed it, and then that warden would be killed as a result. It was a well-guarded secret in the Order, one that even Sierra and Alistair never knew about until the very end when a Grey Warden named Riordan enlightened them. Naturally Sierra and Alistair realised it would most likely be one of them that would die the following day. Morrigan approached Sierra and Alistair that same night. She also knew of the grave news and told them she had found another way to ensure their lives could be preserved when the archdemon was killed. When it was killed, the soul of the archdemon could transfer first to an unborn child carrying the taint over that of a Grey Warden, if there was one present.’

‘Taint?’ queried the Commander, unfamiliar with the term.

Leliana shivered, as if the thought repulsed her. ‘When you become a Grey Warden they make you drink the blood of the dark spawn. It is called the taint.’

‘I think I’m going to be sick.’ grimaced Cullen ‘Why would they do that?’

‘It’s a well-guarded secret and I do not claim to understand it myself, but I was told that it aided the wardens in their ability to detect and fight the darkspawn.’. Leliana bit her lip, returning to her story ‘Morrigan told Alistair that if he sired this child to her, a child that would have the taint because he did, then he and Sierra would not die when they landed that final blow. As long as Morrigan was with them at the time, you see? Morrigan performed some ritual to ensure she would become pregnant when Alistair coupled her that night. And Alistair did get her pregnant that night, according to what Sierra told Zevran.’

The Commander broke out in hysterics, slapping his thigh in amusement. ‘Oh come now Leliana, what is this nonsense?’ he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye ‘Are you seriously telling me that actually works? The good old you have to sleep with me to save your life routine? Utter balderdash! I’m sorry, the only secret you have stumbled across is some cheesy ploy of Morrigan and Alistair’s to sleep with each other. One final hurrah before the archdemon comes to town, eh? It appears Sierra was gullible enough to believe their made up cock-and-bull story.’

‘Morrigan has a son.’ informed Leliana smugly ‘A son that is eleven years old.’

Cullen brushed away the comment, apparently still unconvinced. ‘My guess is Alistair got the wild witch pregnant sometime during their travels. Most likely they both panicked and made up some drivelous story, like the one you’re telling me, to convince Sierra it was inevitable that Morrigan would end up giving birth to Alistair’s offspring.’

Leliana rolled her eyes. ‘You know I’m more cynical than even you Cullen, even on my better days. I wrote to the Grey Warden Order in the Anderfels to confirm the whole a grey warden inevitably dies when they kill an archdemon story.’. Leliana paused, looking sincerely to the templar. ‘It’s true Cullen, Sierra would have died that day. She landed that final blow, and the archdemon died. But she did not. And now twelve years later, Morrigan has an eleven year old son.’

The Commander looked surprised, although it soon turned to annoyance. ‘If that were true what sort of hellion would that child be? To have the soul of an archdemon within it?!’

Leliana nodded, looking also troubled at the thought. ‘I’ve often wondered that myself, although I do not doubt Morrigan had some predetermined plans for Kieran. She doesn’t go out of her way to help others without an agenda.’

‘So Alistair is the father to Kieran?’ remarked a surprised Cullen ‘Some witch of the wilds has the king of Ferelden’s heir in her shabby pocket.’

Leliana tapped her nose ‘And here I am welcoming Morrigan and Kieran into Skyhold, to remain with us under our protection.’

‘My my aren’t we are a clever cat these days?’ smirked the Commander ‘You’re going to hold this over King Alistair, aren’t you?’

‘If he thinks he can lay a finger on either of us then he needs to know the consequences.’ replied Leliana sternly ‘There are more lives precious to him out there than just Sierra’s. Perhaps Alistair needs to remember that.’

‘You would harm his son?’ asked the Commander dubiously.

Leliana looked offended. ‘Of course not! The child is safe, but Alistair need not know that. After all fear is more powerful than fact, no? All Alistair needs to know is that I am the keeper of his flesh and blood. All he need believe is I hold the reins to that future Ferelden King. So he’d better behave.’

‘A worthy plan, as long as Morrigan decides to stay here?’ pointed out Cullen ‘Or Alistair doesn’t intend on taking the child himself?’

‘In her letter Morrigan asks almost desperately for a safe place, one that she and her son can call home.’ explained Leliana ‘Emperor Gaspard wants her out of the court and out of Orlais. With a little hospitality and some role to preoccupy her, I am certain Morrigan will not want to leave Skyhold. Who knows, perhaps even more so when she realises Alistair is about to be king and his first born would be next in line to the throne. The man will be after that boy, mark my words. And if you know Morrigan, she does not share.’

Cullen clapped his hands. ‘So we will be raising a Theirin prince in Skyhold? What’s once more complex task to add to the pile? Jolly good. This should be interesting.’

‘Most interesting.’ mused the spymaster, rolling her eyes.

‘Well I have to hand it to you Leliana, you certainly know how to outplay your enemies.’ chuckled Cullen ‘You calculating women, always after a piece of my heart.’

Leliana walked over to her desk, nudging Cullen in the soft part of his upper shoulder with the point of her elbow. He flinched in discomfort, laughing as he jumped off the seat and away from the assault. With a pleased smile, Leliana settled into her chair.

‘Cullen you misinterpret calculating for clever.’ informed Leliana nonchalantly ‘Learn your enemy’s weak spot and you’ll always have the upper hand.’

Cullen rubbed his aching shoulder ‘Remind me where yours is again?’

‘Run your hands through those amber curls and call me Leli in your most smouldering voice.’ teased the spymaster.

‘You always did like that, didn’t you.’ remarked the templar, raising a suggestive brow. Cullen laughed, tapping his nose. ‘Always handy to know.’

The dull chime of the long clock sounded two times, and both Cullen and Leliana sighed unanimously.

‘Is it time already?’ Cullen muttered ‘I think I’ll skip this one.’

Jumping out of her chair, Leliana grabbed Cullen’s hand. ‘Come on.’ she urged, pulling him to the door ‘A meeting at the war counsel obviously means there is important information that we all need to hear.’

****

The atmosphere in the war room was tense that afternoon. We had all been requested to attend an immediate meeting with Jowan, and more than a few people in the room were unimpressed to be entertaining a former traitor to the Inquisition. Cassandra in particular looked disgruntled. She held a clenched jaw and kept her attention pressed hard on a bundle of documents she had brought with her to the meeting, pausing every now and then pull some loose hair behind her ear. Vivienne and Michel were pleasantly discussing some matters regarding the Orlesian court, whilst Leliana and Cullen were quietly talking amongst themselves. Varric remained silent at the table, as did I, patiently waiting for the meeting to begin.

Turning to the rogue, I clicked my fingers swiftly. ‘Oh! I forgot to mention that I’ve started up a collection for the orphans in Kirkwall. I’m telling you Varric, they’re living in squalor in all those empty warehouses at the docks, and those are the lucky ones. Don’t even get me started at the places they hide out in Darktown. I’m collecting food parcels, clothing, and well, anything I get my hands on really. Blackwall carved these amazing wooden animals the other day, and Mistress Ruthie crocheted all these cute teddy bears and dolls. The problem is I’m here and I need someone over there to make sure the kids actually get the items. So I was wondering if you knew anyone in Kirkwall that could help me out?’

The dwarf was not his jovial self, fidgeting and fussing with whatever his fingers could find. Chipping away at a chink in the wooden table, his nails scratched furiously as I watched on in perplex. It appeared as if Varric hadn’t even heard one word that had come out of my mouth.

‘Is everything alright?’ I whispered.

Pausing a moment from his distracting task, the rogue threw me a tired smile. ‘Ah sure Sparrow. Better wait and hear what’s going on from Jowan. I was never good at telling other people’s stories.’

Several more minutes went by in awkward silence before Jowan finally arrived at war room. He swiftly made his way in, nodding to everyone in acknowledgement as he stood before the table. ‘I appreciate you all meeting me at such short notice.’ thanked the mage ‘I have some information that I must tell you.’

‘What have you done now?’ asked Cullen darkly, already anticipating that only bad news would emit from the mage’s mouth.

Jowan looked sharply at the Commander, annoyed at the arrogance of the man. ‘Well if it isn’t my favourite templar.’ he observed crisply ‘Perhaps you will let me speak so I can tell you?’

‘No by all means, enlighten us.’ chortled the templar ‘However if you have called a war counsel to tell us something, then I’ve half a reason to ready my army right now.’

Jowan crossed his arms defensively, refusing to break away from the hardened glare of the templar. ‘I am well aware that I am met with distrust in light of my former discretions. However I also know concealing my past from you all never helped matters.’. Jowan threw a small nod towards our step-in spymaster ‘It is something that Varric has reminded me of late. And for that I admire his integrity and hope to strengthen my own in due course. On this note I must advise you all of something that I did when trying to save Cassandra’s life a while back.’

Varric shifted uneasily in chair beside me, looking as if he were about to hurl.

Cassandra drew her eyes sharply at the mage, distracted from the pages she was trying to distract herself with. ‘What did you do?’ she asked suspiciously. Turning to look at Varric, she added irritably ‘And why do I get the feeling it involves you?’

Varric looked anxiously over to Jowan, appealing for him to continue on quickly.

Appearing more collected than the rest of us in the room, Jowan took a deep breath. ‘You were dying Cassandra, plain and simple.’ explained the mage seriously ‘There was nothing in this world that could have saved you when the guards brought your body into the healing quarters. Within a few hours, you would have been dead.’

‘Yet here I am?’ replied Cassandra coldly ‘Do you want a personal thank you, Jowan? For bringing me to the brink of death and then returning me to life again?’

Cullen scoffed. ‘He’s a murderer and nothing more.’

Leliana threw the templar a disapproving glare. ‘Let Jowan speak.’ she ordered ‘He came here to tell us something, not for you to cast judgement.’. Giving her full attention to the mage, she nodded in encouragement ‘Jowan, please continue.’

Jowan’s black eyes lifted to meet Leliana’s for a moment, his expression softening. An appreciative smile on his lip and a small nod, he finally turned back to the steely stare of the Seeker. ‘Cassandra, you must know that it was not me who saved your life.’

‘Then who?’ asked the Nevarren dangerously, taking a few threatening steps towards Jowan.

As I looked between Jowan and Varric, I couldn’t help but notice the pair looked extremely troubled. And that made me even more so. ‘Maybe this isn’t the right time to be doing this?’ I observed uneasily.

‘No this is a perfect time to be doing this.’ replied Cullen sternly ‘You can stop trying to protect Jowan.’

‘I haven’t a clue what Jowan is about to say!’ I replied indignantly ‘We’re full of assumptions today, aren’t we Commander?’

Vivienne yawned, stretching her arms leisurely above her. ‘My dears surely we can try to be civil?’

‘At the very least hear him out?’ suggested Michel, looking around the room ‘Jowan what are you trying to tell us?’

Jowan had been standing there patiently, but he looked more and more displeased at the bickering before him. ‘I’m just going to say it. I summoned a demon to make a deal to save Cassandra’s life.’

‘WHAT!!???’ cried out every voice in the room. A blanket of shock and confusion fell over the room as we looked at each other in disbelief.

All of a sudden Cassandra and Cullen rushed towards Jowan, both taking a swing at the man. Jowan nimbly ducked both attempted blows, backing away to the wall as Leliana jumped forward to grab the Commander’s hand. Cullen’s had strength, but it appeared Leliana was just as ferocious. She held the templar’s forearm tight, refusing to let it go as Cullen glared angrily at her. Meanwhile Michel stood in-between Jowan and Cassandra, his arm raised to placate the Seeker. She furiously glowered at the mage, her fist clenched.

‘Both of you stop this!!’ chastised the spymaster ‘Jowan is trying to tell us something and you will listen. Maker help me, I will make you listen if it’s the last thing I do.’

‘I’ve heard enough.’ growled Cullen, wrenching his arm away from the woman ‘What did I say about him? Once a malificar, always a malificar. There’s your fucking proof Leliana.’

‘Ah heck Curly it’s not all his fault.’ called out Varric, rising from his seat ‘I begged the guy to help me save Cassandra by any means. Including…well…including blood magic.’

Cassandra looked irate, spinning around to face Varric. ‘You knew about this the entire time and said nothing to me?!’

Varric threw her a meek smile. ‘Now is as good as any time, right?’

‘Call the guards.’ scorned Cullen ‘Throw this blood mage into the cells once and for.’

Jowan looked tired, rubbing his eyes in frustration. ‘Cullen I am well aware you are looking for any reason to have me thrown into the dungeons. But whether you believe me or not, I am only here in good faith to try and resolve this matter.’. Turning to Michel, Jowan added ‘I am so sorry Michel but this also involves you. The demon that answered my call was Imshael.’

A sea of angry voices began to rise across the room once more. Cassandra and Cullen began hurling insults at Jowan, while Leliana tried to silence everyone. Varric looked extremely glum as he slumped into his seat, while Michel went silent as the grave. In fact, the chevalier’s face turned a deathly white as he heard Jowan utter the name of the demon.

‘What deal did you make, Jowan?’ Michel asked quietly.

Jowan looked remorseful. ‘I am so sorry Michel.’ he apologised.

‘Answer the fucking question!’ growled Cullen ‘What did you and that abomination agree to?’

‘Naturally I was well aware that Imshael had been after Michel, so I made Imshael give me his word that no harm would come to Michel.’ informed Jowan adamantly ‘He wanted information about Michel. His elvish clan name to be precise. Just the name. Imshael agreed to save Cassandra’s life in return for that information.’

The chevalier looked absolutely shocked. ‘What have you done?’ remarked Michel angrily, rising from his chair ‘You told him about the Banal’ras Bellanaris? How do you even know about my clan?!’

‘I overheard you speak of it at The Foaming Flagon,’ admitted Jowan uncomfortably ‘when we were all travelling to Adamant Fortress.’

‘It was a private conversation that I was having with Solas and Ophelia.’ replied a livid Michel. This time the chevalier rushed at Jowan, shoving him hard against the stone wall with all his force. He held the mage tight by the collar of his robes, and the pair locked eyes.

‘I did the only thing I could think of to save Cassandra with the least amount of collateral damage.’ declared Jowan ‘I made Imshael promise that no harm would come to you or your clan. That is a blood contract Michel, and he is bound to it.’

Michel looked furious, releasing Jowan roughly. ‘Then you do not know Imshael.’ he scorned. His blue eyes flashed around the room as he begun for the door ‘I must go find my clan immediately, all their lives are in danger.’

‘If Imshael is there you will be walking into a trap.’ called out Cassandra, holding her hand out and urging the man to stop.

‘Then so be it,’ muttered Michel ‘upon my life I will not have their lives on my hands.’

Standing up, I joined the chevalier by his side. ‘I’m coming with you. Don’t worry Michel, we’ll find them.’

Both he and Cullen threw me a sharp look and replied at the same time with a strong and definite ‘No.’

The chevalier grabbed my hands in his, trying to appeal to my senses. ‘Ma’arlath you cannot come with me. It is too dangerous.’

‘Ophelia you are also the only one who can seal the breeches.’ interjected Cassandra ‘We all need you alive, for all our sakes.’

‘Fine than I’ll make sure I stay that way.’ I replied shortly ‘In the meantime I’m not letting Michel face Imshael alone. I know what power that demon yields. You were not a match for him in Emprise du Lion, and neither were Varric, Vivienne, Cassandra, Blackwall and I. We barely banished him.’

‘She makes a good point,’ agreed Vivienne ‘Imshael nearly defeated us. Blackwall was nearly run through at several points and Ophelia and I were frozen in ice for longer than I care to experience. Michel, my darling, you cannot fight this demon alone, and certainly not without magic on your side.’

‘I agree,’ interrupted Leliana ‘but Michel will have to do it without the one weapon we need. The mark that Ophelia has is more important than anything else. She must stay here.’

Jowan stepped forward determinedly. ‘The only person who can defeat Imshael is me.’ he informed ‘I have lived amongst demons and worked alongside ones far greater than this cur. He knows that I can banish him back to the fade. He knows I can do worse than that. That is why Imshael fears me most of all. So I will go with Michel.’

With an angry glint in his amber eyes, Cullen moved towards the door. ‘Over my dead body will I let this malificar out of this room, let alone on his merry way to consort with Imshael!’

Jowan flashed the templar a furious glare ‘I am only trying to help.’

‘I think we can all agree that you have done enough.’ barked the Commander.

Clutching the chevalier’s hand tight, I tried to make him see reason. ‘Michel listen to me, you will die if you go looking for Imshael.’ I warned ‘He wants you dead, surely that is apparent? If you walk out those gates I am coming with you and that is that. I cannot stay here when you face that thing out there.’

Michel shook his head in frustration, muttering abrupt elvish under his breath that I could only assume was cursing. Cullen was looking at me silently, sadly, a poignant look on his face. Suddenly he turned to the chevalier, a hand on his chest in earnest.

‘Michel, I will go with you.’ Cullen informed ‘You are going to need a strong sword by your side. Ophelia will stay here at Skyhold and I shall go in her place.’

‘No-’ I begun, but Cullen turned to me sharply and held his hand up to silence me.

‘No Ophelia. I will go in your stead.’ he ordered ‘You are to stay here.’

Michel’s eyes lifted and the man looked relieved. ‘Thank you Cullen.’ remarked Michel ‘I accept your aid and appreciate the gesture behind it. Although I do not even know where the clan resides, if they even exist? Who knows, after all this time it may already be too late? Imshael has had this information for a while now, and he could be anywhere.’

Casandra placed a reassuring hand on Michel’s arm. ‘Solas has extensive knowledge of the Dalish, he may at least be able to aid you to the whereabouts of your clan.’

‘I’ll get Solas to come with us.’ chimed in Varric, grabbing Jowan’s sleeve to encourage him to follow the rogue out of the heated room. ‘We’ll meet you down at the stables to leave as soon as possible.’ he called out.

Michel drew closer to me. Raising my hand to his lips, the knight kissed it. ‘You will stay here until I return.’ he informed, rather than asked.

‘Fine.’ I replied miserably, placing a kiss on his cheek. I lingered, smelling his sweet skin. ‘Please don’t go.’ I murmured.

‘I must finish this with Imshael.’ he replied softly ‘He will never let me, or the ones I love, if I do not stop him.’. Michel’s blue eyes looked determined ‘I will return, my love.’

Placing a kiss on my lips, the chevalier finally broke away, throwing me a reassuring nod before going after Varric. Cassandra followed onwards, and if I had to guess she was going to have words with Varric before he conveniently left Skyhold.

‘Did we agree Varric was coming with us?’ asked Cullen cynically, gathering some papers from the table.

‘Well he has to face either Imshael or Cassandra.’ I muttered ‘Between you and me I think he chose the safer option.’. Turning to the templar, I hesitated. ‘Thank you for going with Michel. You didn’t have to do that.’

Cullen shook his head, chuckling bitterly at the comment as he began to tighten his greaves. ‘No Ophelia, I did. There are many reasons why you should stay here, but I confess your mark was no concern of mine in this decision.’. Taking a step closer to me, Cullen’s frame towered over me. ‘You need me to take care of this. Promise you’ll stay safe here in Skyhold. Promise me.’

‘Cull-‘

‘Promise me Ophelia.’ he said again more firmly, his broad hands grasping my shoulders ‘I know you all too well to think you’ll stay put.’

Looking into his amber eyes, I could see desperation and fear. Not at the prospect of facing Imshael, but at the thought of some harm coming to me. It was the same look I was giving Cullen, for I didn’t want Cullen to risk his life for me. I knew what I needed to do in that moment.

‘I promise Cullen.’ I answered firmly ‘Do not let your guard down around Imshael, not even for a moment. Please come back safely.’

Cullen gently released me from his grasp. ‘Do not worry about me,’ he reassured ‘I’ll bring that Orlesian back in one piece.’

‘Bring yourself back in one piece also.’ I replied seriously.

Nodding silently to me, Cullen departed the room. My eyes followed him desperately only to be distracted by a woman staring at me, coldly, from across the room. With slow paced steps, Leliana made her way towards me.

The spymaster’s face was bitter as she looked upon me with disgust. ‘You do realise the risk Cullen puts himself in because of you?’ she seethed ‘Do you think that is fair? You may have moved on but he still loves you and the poor man is acting with his heart, not his head. Does that give you comfort? When you fuck Michel, and keep Cullen in your pocket for times like these? To risk his life to save your chevalier?’’

I scoffed at the crudeness of her opinion, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘You haven’t a clue what you are saying. Do you really think I wanted Cullen to go after Imshael?’

‘You put him in an impossible situation where he had no choice.’ scorned Leliana ‘Cullen deserves peace and ever since he has met you it has been nothing but chaos. Going after Imshael is the last thing that he should be doing. If you loved Cullen, if truly loved Cullen, you would know that. By the Maker, how could you let him do this?!’

‘So is this about Cullen and you again?’ I quipped, frustrated more than anything.

Leliana laughed cynically, rolling her eyes. ‘My concern is for Cullen and you have the nerve to accuse me of being the unstable one here? Cullen may be a man capable of making his own decisions, but I have known him longer than you. I cared for him back when he was but a boy of nineteen, broken and destroyed by the demons that tortured his mind and soul. I nursed him at night when he thrashed in his sheets, drenched in sweat and burning with a fever, crying out at the terrors in his mind. I sat by his side and cared for him when he could not take care of himself. I held his hair when he wretched again and again, and I spoon fed him water when he was slowly fading away from his body. I kept Cullen alive, and I know how precious his life is.’

‘I didn’t ask Cullen to go after Imshael.’ I replied darkly ‘This wasn’t my intention.’

Leliana’s eyes narrowed, an unforgiving green staring into mine. ‘What did you think was going to happen when you announced that you are going after Imshael? You should have kept quiet and simply let Michel go. Now Cullen’s blood is on your hands.’

The spymaster threw me a look of daggers before turning away, storming out of the room. Somewhat stunned, all I could do was will myself silent. Naturally I wasn’t going to leave Cullen out there by himself, nor Michel. None of their blood would be on my hands, but for now all I could do was keep my mouth shut.


	63. Blood Contract

The small party had ridden hard that afternoon, descending into the Emerald Greaves by late nightfall. Solas had agreed to navigate, and although he was uncertain of the exact location of the Banal’ras Bellanaris he knew that legends spoke of an area near the Elgnar’s Grace where once such a clan had resided. Deep in the woodland, the Inquisition group had settled in a grove of oak trees, a small fire burning as they camped for the night. It was bitterly cold as the sky remained clear above, a brilliant array of silver stars peppering the skies, stars that were being ignored as the men blew puffs of air onto their frost bitten hands and tried to stop the chatter of their clashing teeth.

Jowan sat quietly at the edge of the camp, his black robe wrapped tight around his thin frame and the velvet hood drawn over his head. Occasionally the bursting hiss of a pine cone on the fire would catch his attention, his dark eyes lifting up to see the sparks in the dancing flames. Beyond he could see a templar and chevalier sitting by the fire, both disinterested in talking to each other. They stared into the flames before them and entertained themselves with thoughts that he could only imagine. Thoughts he did not want to imagine. Indeed the only reason any of them had gathered together on this night was to keep warm by the fire. Nothing more.

‘Ah cheer up Riddles, it could be worse.’ muttered Varric quietly ‘At least I’m still talking to you.’

The rogue looked discontent, but perhaps it was because he was resting against the gnarled trunk of an old and unforgiving tree. He grimaced, trying to find a comfy spot to lean his back against.

Jowan threw Varric a small smile. ‘You must be hating all this silence more than I? We introverts relish the quiet more than you extroverts.’

‘Trust me, you don’t want noise coming from Curly and Goldilocks.’ replied a cynical Varric ‘Silence is golden for this here extrovert.’. He paused, noticing how glum the mage looked. ‘Ah come on Riddles, it’s bad…but it’s not that bad.’

‘This is rather bad.’ pointed out Jowan ‘Demon. Walking into unknown danger. Possible death. Shall I go on at how bad this actually is?’

The rogue waved off the negativity with a chortle. ‘Minor stuff. I’ll tell ya what’s bad. Bad is being locked in an ancient dwarven Primeval Thaig while your possessed brother runs off with a red lyrium infused idol, with no intention of ever coming back. Now that is bad.’

Jowan threw his companion a surprised look. ‘That is rather bad.’

‘Tell me about it.’ muttered Varric, his face growing dark as his thoughts lingered towards Bartrand.

‘My past has an irritating knack of catching up with me.’ confessed Jowan ‘I used to tire of it more than anything. Now I’m beginning to think it’s personal.’

Varric shifted uneasily against the tree. ‘We did the right thing. You did the right thing. You should be proud for owning up, no matter what the consequences are.’

‘You don’t know what lies ahead of us.’ sighed Jowan. The mage pulled his robe tighter around him as a particular icy wind rushed past them. The trees groaned tiredly and Jowan looked uneasily up at the branches above him. ‘I’m certain wherever Imshael is, there will be trouble. And whatever pride felt by our actions will be long gone by then.’

Varric shrugged ‘At least you know you did the right thing.’

Jowan threw an unconvinced look towards the rogue. ‘Is it just me, or does doing the right thing not necessarily feel as satisfying as you’re making it out to be?’

‘It feels worse.’ mused Varric ‘And if we skim over to the next chapter, being a hero is an overrated gig that you should steer clear of entirely.’

‘Somehow I doubt I will get that far in the book.’ muttered Jowan.

Another hour or so passed, and a small supper of bread, cured ram and Kirkwall cheese was shared amongst the group. With food in their bellies, the atmosphere lightened a little, although it was far from warm. Varric and Jowan drew a little closer to the fire, although still remained quiet as mice, while Solas decided to retire for the night. Cullen blew on a flagon of hot tea, boiling hot from the billy, and Michel eagerly drank his own brew in comfortable silence.

The templar rested against an overturned willow log near the fire, and further down at the opposite end rested Michel. The chevalier’s gaze fell into the embers, never leaving them even as he occasional lifted the mug of tea to his lips. It was clear that the man was worried, although Cullen was not sure whether it was in regards to the fate of his clan or the fact that they sought Imshael once more. Having been once possessed by the demon, Cullen assumed Michel feared Imshael more than ever.

He turned towards the chevalier, catching the Orlesian’s eye.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ asked Cullen quietly ‘Maker knows I’m certain to be the last person you’d want to confide in. All that aside, sometimes it helps to talk. To process what has happened.’

Michel remained silent as he drew a branch to stoke the fire, the embers weaving in sparks upwards to the sky. ‘What is there to say?’ he replied solemnly ‘With Imshael, it has always been personal. He must be destroyed and that is all that matters.’

‘Yes.’ agreed Cullen ‘He should never have been in the realm for this long. I should have pursued the demon long before now.’

‘You forget Ophelia made a deal that the Inquisition never would pursue him.’ muttered Michel ‘It is easy to see how Imshael slipped through our fingers so effortlessly.’

The Commander looked grim. ‘No, I never could forget that,’ he replied ‘although truth be told I don’t even know how these things work. These deals with demons? What would have happened had the Inquisition pursued Imshael irrespective of what Ophelia and he agreed to?’

‘Most likely Imshael would have claimed Ophelia’s life as revenge.’ answered Jowan, who was evidently eavesdropping ‘And then the lives of those in the Inquisition.’

Cullen and Michel looked towards the mage sharply, their expressions unified in disapproval.

‘I suppose you would know that.’ remarked Cullen coldly.

Jowan nodded, drawing closer to the fire and the men before it. ‘Demons are bound to contracts, and if one is broken then there will be revenge. If you do not keep your word in a bargain with a dark soul, then your life is forfeit. That is why we go in search of Imshael in the present not as representative of the Inquisition, but as Michel’s companions and no more than that. I would advise no mention of the Inquisition whatsoever if we manage to find Imshael.’

Michel’s blue eyes glinted with rage as he looked towards the mage. ‘You speak of having changed for the better, Jowan, but what sort of fiend are you to have willingly worked with these horrors? To work with such evil magic? You willingly enabled Imshael to possess me under that oak tree, as did you poison Cullen with blood magic. What sort of person does that to his fellow man?’

Cullen nodded, throwing a baleful look at the mage. ‘A fine question.’

Jowan’s lips were pursed tight, as if he was willing himself not to retort in anger. ‘Have neither of you done anything that you come to regret in later days?’ he asked quietly, albeit accusingly ‘I admit my conscious is far from clear, and that is something I will have to live with for the rest of my days. Were I to have my time again I would have done things quite differently.’

‘Yes you’re right, you would have made sure you never got caught and continued to practice your murky little trade.’ scorned Cullen.

The Chevalier looked as if he agreed with the templar’s sentiments. ‘You had no right to make a deal that involved my clan, let alone keep this information from me for all this time!’ remarked Michel angrily ‘They are innocents Jowan. You traded one life for many. Why would you do that?’

‘What choice did I have?’ retorted Jowan ‘Let Cassandra die?’

Cullen scoffed, shaking his head. He threw a cynical look to the chevalier ‘Don’t waste your energy on the malificar. First he tries to murder Cassandra, and then has the audacity to sit here now and defend her right to live. As if we are the unreasonable ones?’

‘I made Imshael promise that no harm would come to your clan.’ replied Jowan defensively ‘He was bound to that agreement as it was a contract.’

Cullen scoffed again ‘Yes, let’s all trust the word of a demon. Or better still, a malificar.’

‘A contract is a contract.’ replied Jowan darkly, turning away from the fire ‘There is no point discussing this further with either of you. You’ll have to forgive me, I think I shall retire for the night.’

****

‘Dirk…..dirk…where in the hempen halter is my dirk?’ I muttered, casting aside tunics and socks from the chest at the end of my bed. Delving into the box, I continue to throw odds and ends from it, growing more agitated that I couldn’t locate my blade. As I wrenched out a crumpled black dress, the glint of a green emerald revealed itself from the velvet I had wrapped it in. I halted my search to pick up the necklace, the one Cullen had given me as a gift.

…It reminded me of your eyes. I confess I found myself unwilling to part with it during all the travels I have had to do lately. Now I fear I must hand it over to its rightful owner…..

The affectionate words of Cullen ran through my head, and left me feeling sad. It confused me, how one happy memory could leave me feeling so melancholy on reflection. There was nothing left to remind me that Cullen had once shared this room. None of his clothes remained in the wardrobe, nor raven feathers scattered on the ground. The only thing that was once in his possession that was now in mine was this beautiful necklace. One small reminder of once upon a time.

‘Why do you even need a dagger?’ asked the Iron Bull ‘I thought magic was on your side?’

Quickly I secured the jewellery on my neck, turning to the qunaris with a frown.

‘Even mages need a plan b.’ I explained.

The Iron Bull looked unconvinced. He turned to Dorian, who was helping Blackwall fasten a broken strap on his pack that had snapped moments before.

‘What about you Dorian?’ the Bull mused ‘Have you got a concealed dagger on you?’

The Tevinter raised a brow ‘I always come prepared.’

Unable to accept the order that I was to stay back at Skyhold, I had secretly decided to sneak out that night and ride to the Emerald Greaves. Imshael was not a demon that would be defeated so easily, and I knew that last time we had almost fallen. This time I needed to be prepared.

‘Does either Cassandra or Leliana know what you intend on doing?’ asked the Iron Bull, his travel pack ready on his shoulder.

‘Of course not.’ I replied hastily, shoving some maps into my own rucksack. ‘They were the ones who told me to stay put.’

Dorian smirked, raising a brow ‘So naturally…’ 

‘Naturally she is doing what she can to save her friends.’ interjected Blackwall ‘Ready when you are, Inquisitor.’

Escaping Skyhold without drawing attention was difficult, but we managed to stow away to the stables unseen. Once there, Blackwall was able to persuade a known stable hand to run an errand for him, and at that point we were able to saddle the horses and ride out with only a handful of soldiers spotting us leave through the gates. Naturally Leliana would find out soon enough, but it would give us a bit of extra time on a journey that most desperately need a head start.

The ride down Gherlen’s Pass was cold and dark, however the route was familiar and we were able to reach the edge of the Emerald Greaves by morning. Although we had no clue as to where Michel and his party were heading, Blackwall was one of the best trackers in Skyhold. Soon enough he was able to pick up a fresh set of tracks that he suspected was the Inquisition party. We could not be certain, but it was all we had. With hope in our hearts we rode on into the thick of the forest, eyes sharp for any signs.

****

Solas awoke the party early that morning, determined to set off immediately. The elf appeared uneasy, his eyes darting from branch to blade and beyond, most eager to depart. They made their way through the thick ferns and moss covered ground, towards a place that Solas referred to as Elgnar’s Grace. It was there, between the white rapids of a rushing river and an old abandoned cave that the party found themselves at their destination. The place was peaceful but to their horror they soon discovered that they had stumbled into a place of death, surrounded by many aging burial stones. If there had been a clan here once, there was no more.

‘Something is not right here.’ remarked an unsettled Solas.

‘Well Chuckles, not to sound blunt, but we are in a cemetery.’ muttered Varric, crossing himself three times over. He too looked uneasy. ‘Perhaps we should get out of here? You know what they say, stumble across a gravestone and you have bad luck for seven years.’

Michel fell to his knees, wiping away the ivy covering the markings on one of the stones. He read the words out loud, a tremor in his voice. ‘Emma ir abelas, souver’inan isala hamin, vhenan him dor’felas, in uthenera na revas.’

None in the party could give meaning to the foreign words, none except for Solas and Michel. The elf looked saddened for the chevalier and nodded respectfully, walking over to Michel and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

‘Ir abelas falon.’ murmured Solas.

Hanging his head in grief, Michel planted his hands on the soft green grass before him. ‘Irassal ma ghilas, ara ma’athlan vhenas.’ he spoke softly under his breath.

Jowan’s eyes lowered in sorrow and he turned towards Cullen and Varric. ‘Come,’ he whispered ‘we should give Michel a moment to mourn.’

The mage made his way towards the nearby riverbed and the templar and rogue followed on, settling down onto the loose pebble shore a small distance away from the gravesite.

‘What do you think happened? Do you reckon this was his clan?’ frowned Varric, throwing a flat stone into the water. It skipped across the surface several times before plonking into the water. ‘It’s times like these that I wish I knew elvish.’

The Commander shrugged, withdrawing a flask from his belt. Bending down to the water, he began to fill it. ‘I can only assume the worst.’ resided the Commander ‘There were at least fifty burial stones over there.’

Varric cursed under his breath. ‘Seven times fifty equals a lot of bad luck.’

‘Irassal ma ghilas, ara ma’athlan vhenas.’ spoke Jowan softly, his voice filled with sadness as he repeated the words uttered by Michel. ‘Wherever you shall go, I will call you home.’

Varric and Cullen turned to look over to the mage, both quite surprised.

‘You speak elvish?’ remarked Cullen.

The mage lifted his dark eyes, revealing a sombre expression. ‘A little. Enough to understand that we have found the resting place of the Banal’ris Bellanaris.’

The templar sighed, looking unhappy at the confirmation of what he suspected. ‘What was Michel and Solas saying just then?’ asked Cullen.

‘The stone read Now I am filled with sorrow, weary eyes need resting, heart has become grey and slow, in waking sleep is freedom.’ answered the mage ‘Michel knows that this is his clan. Was his clan. And that this here is their final resting place.’

Varric frowned ‘Yeah but how does he know it’s his clan.’

Jowan’s face grew dark. ‘Couldn’t you see that he sensed it immediately? As he and they were bound to each other. There are some things that you just know.’

Varric shrugged, turning to look at the grieving party members in the distance. ‘The stones looked old, perhaps several decades at least? Whatever clan once lived here has now been buried long ago.’

‘At least Imshael wasn’t the reason for their deaths.’ muttered Cullen.

Varric raised a brow ‘That’s hardly comforting Curly.’

‘No Varric.’ Cullen replied morbidly ‘That is all the comfort Michel can afford at the moment.’. Wistfully the Commander walked further along the river, hiding the grief that was apparent in his amber eyes.

****

Michel sat by the stone, silent as he stared into the aged etchings. Never had he come so close to his people, and yet all they were now were skeletons in the ground. Decomposing vessels of flesh. Death surrounded him and there was nothing that he could do about it.

‘Solas…I mourn the loss of strangers and it is breaking my heart.’ murmured the chevalier. His blue eyes blinked away tears as his attention remained steadfast on the headstone before him.

‘Tá brón orm mo grá.’ remarked Solas, lowering his head in respect. ‘Though bitter the parting, you will come understand there is no ending in death. Nor does the life of another does not cease to matter simply because it ceases to exist in its mortal form.’

‘I feel so ashamed.’ confessed Michel ‘For all these years I knew of my clan and for all these years I never once sought to find them. My pride and disgrace stood in the way, and now all that remains is this.’

A cold wind rushed past and Solas turned his head with a frown, uneasily taking in his surroundings for a few minutes. ‘There is something you must know.’ he informed abruptly ‘Of why Imshael has taken an interest to you. I do not think he realises it yet, but he has sensed the power in your heritage.’

‘What would that matter now?’. Michel looked confused, turning to Solas ‘Do you know something about the Banal’ras Bellanaris? What power?’

Solas sat down on the grass beside Michel, running his hands lightly across the strands. ‘I have slept under the stars of Sirius and Úlfhrafn, of Cailleach, Eil Ton, and Élan Vital. The elders of the sky, of who once watched over our ancestors, they were my mentors as I slept. Michel, I could not tell you how many nights I wondered how our kind, the mightiest of beings, immortal creatures of the moon and sun, could one day end up hiding away in the trees. Being cooped up in the squalor of the cities. Cursed as creatures that time has forgot, forsaken to the filth of mankind. That was not the path intended of the ancient ones’. Solas turned his head to the chevalier, examining his features with interest. ‘The Banal’ras Bellanaris are direct decedents of the Fai’Armen. A group of immortal elves called the Shadow of Eternity, for they were as brilliant as white light itself that no shade could cast. You hold their image, of light hair and skin, and eyes that of the sky. The Banal’ras Bellanaris were one of the last clans of the immortal elves.’

His blonde brows raised in surprise. ‘I…I had no idea.’ Michel exclaimed ‘How could such a thing be kept from me?’

Solas nodded ‘A well-guarded secret, for obvious reasons. I suspect there was a motive as to why you were never told. Such knowledge would only attract danger from those who would wish to exploit it. And your bloodline is one that would have been exploited, had one of fouler intentions come to learn of it.’

‘Why would Imshael care about a clan that has been long dead?’ puzzled Michel ‘Look at them Solas? How long have they been rotting in the ground? I know nothing of these people, and yet they are my blood. Something so intrinsic to me and yet as I kneel here before them I feel this emptiness within me. As if I am an intruder and nothing more. Was this the reason my mother left? Had the clan already fallen? She told me that she had to leave because she was carrying a child of a man.’

‘And yet she possessed her father’s blade, Banal Nadas?’ remarked Solas ‘A sword such as this is one’s legacy.’. His hand pointed to the blade at Michel’s side. Running his hand across the hilt, the green leaves glimmered in the soft light of the forest.

‘Was Imshael after this blade?’ frowned Michel ‘Is there more to this weapon than meets the eye?’

Solas looked unconvinced. ‘It is a remarkable sword, but I sense no magic in it. No, I-.’

The elf grew quiet, his eyes darting around the clearing once more. The soft light that trickled through the leaves had grown dark, and an icy chill crept over the peaceful place. Michel too noticed the shift, and grew apprehensive as his companion.

‘Solas?’ he remarked cautiously.

‘A demon approaches.’ warned Solas quietly, drawing his staff ‘We must prepare ourselves.’

****

Stop, look, listen, smell and watch. These were the things Blackwall did frequently as he tracked the party through the forest. Occasionally he would find flattened grass that followed a pattern that of horses, and sometimes even full prints in the mud. The grey warden noted that the hoof tracks had morning dew in them, a clear indication they were made before the sun had come up. Other times Blackwall would find horse manure that he would crumble between his fingers to detect its freshness. Dorian found the practice foul, shuddering each time we came across a fresh pile, yet there was reason for Blackwall to do such things. Quickly the Grey Warden led us on, warning us that we were close.

In late morning we stumbled across the remnants of a camp in a grove of trees. The former embers from the fire were covered by dirt, but were still warm. Naturally the camp could have belonged to anyone, but the Iron Bull noted the depth of the pit and an adjoining hole dug nearby. It was a tactical fire pit that Cullen had trained the troops in the Inquisition to use in order to stay concealed. The pit burned lower in the ground, and the secondary hole that was adjoined underneath was used to vacuum air into the pit, adding more oxygen and therefore increasing the heat. The pits were always dug near large trees, where the braches above would disperse the smoke and therefore no enemies would be able to spot a campfire from afar. We were certain that this was their camp and we were close.

Pressing onwards, Blackwall continued to follow the tracks as they continued along the winding river bank. We travelled fast, an uneasy feeling falling over us the further we traipsed into the depths of the forest. The serenity of the Emerald Greaves turned bleak, and there was a chill in the air. Something was amiss. The hours drew on until we were stopped in our tracks, spotting a flash of red light that sparked in the distance.

‘Look, did you see that?’ called out Dorian ‘There’s something up ahead!’

Squinting my eyes, I could see a strange darkness. Similar to mist, but as ashen as shadows. ‘Could it be the red templars?’ I frowned.

Blackwall and the Iron Bull unsheathed their blades, and began to march forwards.

Dorian follow on behind, drawing his staff as he marched onwards ‘Let’s go find out, shall we?’

****

As our party arrived at the edge of the black mist, our attention was drawn to a hushed voice calling to us from the bushes beside the river. With weapons drawn, we began to approach with caution, only to halt dead in our tracks as the figures arose from their position. Before us stood Jowan, Varric and Cullen.

‘What in the nine divines are you doing here!?’ hissed Cullen, keeping his voice to a minimum. The templar grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me aside. ‘You need to leave now.’. Cullen looked furious. ‘How could you do this? You looked me in the eye and promised me you would not come after us.’

‘I wasn’t going to abandon you both out here with Imshael.’ I argued ‘Now’s not the time for this. We saw trouble up ahead, where is Michel and Solas?’

Jowan nodded his head towards the black mist ‘Imshael has found them. We must act soon.’

‘What are you waiting for?!’ frowned Blackwall ‘They could be dead in there for all we know.’

‘One does not simply traipse into a black mist to meet a demon without a plan.’ replied Jowan sternly ‘We were discussing that before you arrived. It has been agreed that I will speak with Imshael, but you should all keep away. Do not engage him, I cannot stress that enough. Come now, time wastes.’

The mage descended into the darkness, with Dorian, Varric, Blackwall and the Iron Bull following onwards. As I began to walk into the unknown murky depths, I felt a hand sharply pull me back.

‘Go home Ophelia.’ ordered Cullen ‘It is too dangerous.’

My eyes darted from the black mist to the templar. Unwilling to obey, I shook my head. ‘Cullen…’. I paused, knowing there was no time and yet I needed to say so much. ‘Cullen I cannot leave you like this.’

‘This is not a game Ophelia.’ chastised the templar, looking annoyed at my refusal to go.

Turning, I began to walk into the mist but once more Cullen grabbed my arm.

‘I said no!’ he growled, pulling me back ‘Cursed woman, why are you doing this!!??’

My green eyes flashed wildly, trying to yank my arm away from Cullen’s grip. ‘Because I love you, you damned fool.’ I replied furiously ‘I realise everyone likes to determine what I should and should not now. Not here. Not now. I cannot let you go face Imshael without me there to protect you.’

‘Your job is not to protect me.’ replied Cullen sharply. His face softened for a moment, refusing to let my arm go ‘Ophelia please. If you love me as I love you, you will do this for me. Turn away now. Let me fight Imshael.’

Cupping my hand against his cheek his rugged cheek, I smiled sadly at the Commander. ‘My life is not worth any more than yours, Cullen. I will be at your side until the very end.’. I began to walk towards the black mist and this time Cullen did not hold me back. ‘Come, they are waiting.’

A blood chilling laugh surrounded us as Cullen and I descended in the mist, and all that was once green in the forest had now turned an eerie red. We were confused, and our eyes shifted desperately to make sense of what was happening.

With Banal Nadas outstretched and a staff held firm, Michel and Solas were cornered against a vine covered rock face. The pair looked undeterred at the ashen smoke before then, that lashed and hissed at their feet. Sometimes it contorted into a vague figure. A man. A snake. Even something that resembled a dragon. Each time however it dissipated back into a misty smoke once more, a cruel laughter haunting our ears. Jowan, Blackwall, the Iron Bull and Dorian were gathered together a few metres away, alert and ready to strike.

‘I remember you.’ hissed a voice coming from the smoke ‘Under an oak tree, under an oak tree, come find me there in autumn or spring. To weave a ribbon around your heart, or to run a blade right through your heart.’

A thin wisp of ashen smoke wove around our legs. Cullen drew his long sword and attempted to slice the apparition but failed to achieve anything other than more chilling laughter. Varric also released several bolts from Bianca, but his efforts were fruitless. Dorian frowned, scanning the area with displeasure.

‘This is not ideal. In shade form he is practically untouchable.’ whispered Dorian. With an outstretched hand, he murmured something and a blue orb spread from his fingers, pulsating towards the smoke. The chilling laugh grew louder, and the Tevinter silently cursed.

‘Michel you have brought more friends?’ whispered a cruel voice ‘What a mirthful time we shall have.’

Jowan murmured something under his breath and drew his hands to the sky. A rumbling from the skies sounded, a clap of thunder that shook our very bones, and the demon hissed angrily. ‘Show yourself Imshael,’ warned mage ‘or I will summon you by force.’

‘I do not have to obey you len’alas lath’din!’ growled the demon, suddenly appearing before Jowan ‘You were unwise to seek me again. I will make you see that soon enough.’

The smoke lashed about, in flicking ribbons that looked like snake tongues, swirling together, faster and faster, until before us appeared the form of an elf with long blonde hair, tall with chiselled features and holding a cold, albeit elegant, demeanour. With an angry wave of his hand, the elf sent white electricity towards Jowan. Ribbons of wild surges of light spat at the mage but effortlessly bounced off him.

‘Please,’ scorned Jowan ‘do not insult me with your pitiable magic, Imshael. I think you come here to cause trouble, devious one.’

Imshael grinned, shrugging his innocent shoulders. ‘Whatever do you mean Jowan?’. He paused with a frown, beholding Solas. Imshael raised a brow to the stone faced elf staring back at him. ‘Greetings old one.’

Silently Solas continued to stare at the demon, apparently determined not to exchange words or entertain the dark entity.

‘What are you doing here, Imshael?’ asked Michel coldly ‘Why do you seek my clan? What interest is it of yours?’

The elf flicked back his blonde hair nonchalantly. ‘I reside here and harm no one. What does it matter to you?’

‘You search for a weapon, don’t you?’ called out Solas, a glimmer of amusement in his eye ‘Did you find it, Imshael? The weapon of the Fai’Armen?’

Imshael hissed, throwing an angry look at Solas. ‘You know of it do you, ancient one?’ he snarled ‘You cannot have it. I have searched for a long time, and it will be mine.’

Solas chuckled, growing more amused while everyone else looked more uneasy. ‘An intelligent demon such as yourself? Do you not even recognise the weapon when it stands before you?’

Imshael revealed a grotesque grin. ‘Ahhh so you know?’ he hissed. The demon cast his sinister black eyes to Michel. ‘But does he know?’ asked Imshael wickedly ‘Does the half-shem know what he is?’

Michel frowned, looking over to Solas. ‘What is he talking about?’ the chevalier asked.

Imshael began to laugh in glee, a maddening laugh that curdled and screeched and snorted. He clapped his hands in delight. ‘Tut tut tut, little half-shem, do you not see?’ he mused ‘I came here to find a weapon and there was none to be found. That was when I began to think….perhaps raiding your dead ancestors in their graves was but a boon? Yes yes I soon realised where to find the weapon. And then here you come to me! Ahhhhh Michel, it is fate my half-shem, it is fate.’

The chevalier raised his blade higher. If there was fear in his heart he refused to show it, standing bravely to fight Imshael to the death if needed. Imshael growled, his nails transforming into long blade-like claws.

‘You cannot have Michel.’ warned Jowan sternly, taking a strong foot forward to step between the chevalier and the demon ‘You have bound yourself to an agreement, dark one. As long as you roam this realm you cannot harm Michel.’

Solas smile, nodding in agreement. ‘I suppose you forgot that part, didn’t you Imshael?’

Imshael snarled, growing furious as he realised what had occurred. If Michel was this weapon he sought, he was unable to have him. His agreement with Jowan to never harm Michel made him unable to take the one thing he now wanted. Michel.

‘There are other ways to get what I want.’ roared the demon. Imshael dark eyes scanned across the group, landing on me with a sneer. He lunged towards me, too fast for my companions to stop him. Wrapping his hands around my body, the demon pulled me to him. His claws lingered at my neck, threatening to slit my throat.

‘If Michel will not come with me, I will take his precious Inquisitor.’ threatened Imshael ‘You have a choice now before you. What will you do?’

The chevalier looked fearful. ‘No.’ he protested. Michel threw down his blade onto the grass ‘You can take me, but release her.’

Imshael nudged his head towards Jowan with an evil smile. ‘Only the malificar can release you to me. Only Jowan can release me from our agreement.’ hissed Imshael, spitting in the direction of the mage ‘Think about that, and think on it quick, for I shall cut your pretty mage’s throat here and now. Don’t think I won’t!’

‘I shall never release you from your agreement, Imshael.’ informed Jowan sternly ‘You will never have Michel de Chevin.’

The party turned to Jowan in surprise.

‘Ah Riddles, maybe we should all talk about our options here.’ piped in Varric nervously ‘You know, and not jump to any big decisions so suddenly?’

‘Jowan this is my decision,’ warned Michel ‘do not get in the way here.’

Cullen nodded, raising his arms slowly to placate Imshael ‘Jowan will release you Imshael.’

‘Jowan.’ called out Solas, a warning tone in his voice.

Jowan and Solas shared an exchanged nod, as if the pair had come to some unknown understanding. Solas turned to Cullen ‘Michel is a direct descendant of Fai’Armen.’ he informed ‘He has the blood of the immortal elphen running through his veins. That is the weapon Imshael seeks.’

Jowan firmly locked his eyes with the sneering demon ‘That sort of power in the hands of a demon like Imshael would be catastrophic. No, Michel will never be harmed by Imshael. I will never release him from that contract, no matter the consequences.’

My heart pounding in my chest, Imshael’s claws press harder into my throat. I could feel a warm wetness trickle down my neck, and before me I could see Cullen and Michel with fearful eyes, desperately trying to placate the demon.

‘Jowan is right.’ warned Solas ‘You would not want to see a world where Michel’s strength is yoked by this one. He would tap into horrors that you could not possibly imagine.’

‘So she dies then?’ laughed Imshael.

Michel was anguished. ‘I don’t care.’ yelled the chevalier ‘Let Imshael have me.’

‘Michel don’t.’ I pleaded, screaming as Imshael’s claws dug into my skin. My breath was catching, and all I could see was the chevalier’s deep blue eyes looking into mine. My mind danced with flashes of images. Of the chevalier sitting on the steps outside the Skyhold kitchens, where we had shared the stolen bannocks. His beautiful blond hair shining in the sunlight as he spoke of honour. There was gratitude that he had been given a second chance. There was hope for better days ahead. My heart leapt and my heart wept. ‘Curse you Imshael, kill me!’ I yelled ‘Jowan, do not let him have Michel.’

Imshael snarled, his claw slicing along my tunic and tearing it away to reveal my collarbone. His claw ran deep into my flesh. The cut was deep and blood poured over the exposed emerald jewel around my neck.

‘Noooo!’ roared Cullen, throwing down his blade and approaching us both. ‘Imshael take me instead. I am the Commander of the Inquisition, right hand to the Divine and head of the templar Order. If power is what you want, take me. Use my body as a vessel, but let her go. She is the Inquisitor yes, but you will be hunted wherever you go if you take here. Never will you have a moment’s peace and you will not remain in Thedas for long.’

‘A mere bargaining chip to the Elder One?’ sneered Imshael ‘She would not be in my hands for long….well…that is after I’ve had my fun with her.’

Jowan waved a hand airily in dismissal. ‘You are one of the few demons that have not pledged your allegiance to the Elder One. I wonder how many of your comrades would see you the traitor, irrespective of your peace offering? Even after that you will be expected to stay in the demon army and not return here. All that wonderful freedom you have now will be taken away. How sad for you?’

Fearfully, I shook my head. ‘No Imshael, you don’t want Cullen. He is too well known and everyone will know what has happened. Take me and leave them be.’

‘She is wrong.’ declared Cullen, throwing an angry look at me ‘I am the better choice here.’

Imshael growled, releasing his grip on me a little. The demon pondered the offer, eyeing up and down the Commander. ‘You possess power, but she’s right. All of that will be lost the moment word spreads that you have been possessed.’

‘I dare say it might.’ agreed Cullen hastily ‘However imagine what you could do with all the talent and information I possess? There are so many secrets I know about the Chantry and the Templar Order, even the Inquisition. All of that in your hands. The realm is your oyster with me. Let us make a deal. My life for hers. Make it now and make it quick.’

‘No Cullen.’ I protested. Looking desperately around the circle, I could see no way out of this. ‘Imshael you can-‘

‘Agreed.’ hissed Imshael, keeping his eyes fixated on Cullen.

The demon pushed me hard and I fell forward onto the wet grass, only to see Imshael rushing towards Cullen. Smoke engulfed the pair, a charcoal haze before they faded away. Sparks of light flashed in my eyes and suddenly….everything went dark.


	64. Teardrop

His amber eyes lifted to see Ophelia before him, a blade at her neck. The silver point lingered at her milky skin. Skin that he had once run his lips across and taken delight in devouring with kisses. Her eyes blinked fearfully at the templar, crying out his name before the blade ran hard and deep, her throat slit before him. The blood spilled freely and fast, the drawn out choking and spluttering filling his ears until her lifeless body collapse in a pool of sanguine death. It had already happened several times before, but Imshael was taking delight in showing Cullen Ophelia’s death over and over again.

Lowering his eyes, the templar resided to look at the ground once more. His hands and knees were firmly planted on the cold stone floor, a trapped animal caged in a sphere identical to one he had been kept in during the siege at the Kinloch Hold. Imshael was able to delve deep into Cullen’s mind, and it was there that he stumbled across the idea to play with his victim in such a way. He knew this was how to break Cullen. For hours Imshael had already taunted the man, mentally torturing him with every fear he held deep within.

The demon laughed, walking around the glowing orb slowly. ‘My, my, not even a flinch that time? Would you like to see Leliana tortured again?’

‘Do what you want.’ muttered Cullen ‘I know none of this is real.’

Imshael shrugged ‘Real? Not real? The brain is a marvellous thing, for what it perceives is what it thinks is real. Irrespective of what you tell yourself! Every time you see her death your heart rate increases. You breathing rises. Your fear soars. It’s like stabbing your soul, over and over again.’ The blonde elf held a sinister smile as he continued to pace around the Commander. ‘Oh but I would not wish you to fret, everything I show you here will come into fruition. If I cannot hurt Michel then I will have to hurt you and all his comrades. Until then, you can see how it shall play out over and over and over again.’

Waving his hand, the image of Leliana appeared. She looked terrified as she was tied to a wooden table. A hooded figure holding a knife held out her fingers and slowly began to cut them off, a bone crunching disgusting display, as she screamed a horrific curdled cry.

Clenching his jaw, Cullen refused to look at the image. Beads of sweat fell from his brow onto his light eyelashes, and he blinked them away as they fell to the floor.

I shall endure this. I will stay strong.

****

Time faded in those final moments that I saw Imshael and Cullen transport away. I recall a searing pain in my shoulder as I collapsed on the grass before all went dark. I recall the strong hands of Michel scooping me up and carrying me away, a flurry of fearful voices surrounding with questions of what to do next. I recall his soft lips on my cheek, a worried voice as he spoke to Jowan of things that I cannot remember….

When I awoke, my eyes did not open to green trees of the Emerald Greaves. Indeed I found myself slumped on an ornate armoire in the middle of a dimly lit room that looked suspiciously like a cave. It was a large place and very shadowy, and from what my groggy eyes could see there were different rooms adjoining. An alchemist laboratory resided to my right, and what looked like a kitchen to my left. Bookshelves lined the walls before me, and soft purple carpet covered the cold stone floor underneath my chair.

‘Good you’re awake!’ observed Jowan eagerly.

Looking around the room, I saw the mage seated behind me at a wooden table. Several tomes lay open before him, and from what I could see he had been busy researching while I was asleep.

‘How do you feel?’ he asked, coming over and clasping my forehead with his palm ‘You fainted in the forest. Do you remember?’. His slender fingers softly felt my temperature, before he gently held my face and examined my eyes. ‘You appear untouched, I don’t think Imshael left his mark on you. Most likely it was shock that made you collapse. What an absolute shambles that all was.’. His hands gently ran along the bandage on my chest, the wound freshly dressed. ‘It’s not bleeding anymore, that’s a good sign.’

Collapse….why did I collapse….

Suddenly my eyes went wide with fear. ‘Cullen!’ I cried out ‘He took Cullen! Jowan you have to help me!!!’

‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ reassured Jowan, clasping my hands tight ‘That is why I have brought you here. I know how to find Cullen, I just needed to prepare.’

Looking around the room, I realised there no one else about. ‘Where is Michel? Where are the others? Did Imshael take the others?!!!’

‘They are all fine.’ reassured Jowan ‘They are back at Skyhold.’

‘Why are we here then?’. My eyes darted around the room once more, unable to recognise any part of it. ‘Are we in the Dales?’

‘We are in a place called The Nephilim Realm.’ answered Jowan ‘It is not in Thedas.’

‘What?’ I frowned ‘Where in the devil are we then?’

Jowan moved his head a little from side to side, weighing up an explanation he believed to be somewhat tricky to answer.

‘It is a realm attached to the fade.’ answered Solas. The elf wandered into the room we were in, curiously looking around him ‘A place where demons and spirits can travel freely, and yet here within this cavern only Jowan may enter.’

‘Thanks to a great deal of work on my behalf.’ informed Jowan, rolling his eyes ‘Some people like to spend their time building a house they can call their own. I create demon free dwellings in caverns.’. The man shrugged, as if it were one and the same. ‘Once you leave this place, there are demons and spirits aplenty I assure you.’

‘I’ve never met a mortal that has lived in the fade as you have resided here.’ remarked Solas, apparently impressed ‘It is refreshing to see such initiative.’

Jowan shook his head. ‘Self-preservation was what fundamentally drove me to do all this. A demon showed me to this particular realm, a place that I had discovered only by name when I was a mage at the Kinloch Hold. A mere curiosity that manifested into reality. If you can call this place such? After I escaped, the templars were hard on my heels. Nowhere in Thedas was truly safe, so I resorted to spending my time in another place all together.’. Jowan looked around the familiar room. ‘This was my first real home.’

‘Why did you leave?’ I asked precariously, still unsure whether I should feel safe or in complete danger.

Jowan looked entertained by the question. ‘Have you ever lived alone for years on end without any human contact? It becomes rather isolating after a while. When I started naming the candle sticks, and having deep and meaningful conversations with the mirror…well, that was the time I decided I needed to return to the land of the living.’. Looking over to a large golden mirror, the mage beckoned us to follow him. ‘Come.’

Jowan approached a standing mirror nestled between two wooden bookshelves in the corner of the cave. Ancient looking and overly ornate to the point that even the Orlesians would have drawn the line, the oval looking glass was gilded in heavy gold with lion claw feet. Waving a hand over the glass, Jowan muttered a few words as the surface began to shimmer and glaze, like cold ice.

‘This is the Seer’s Glass. It holds answers to those that are in need. A very fortunate find on my behalf, it has served me well over the years.’ he observed calmly.

‘A mirror more precious than half the kingdoms of Thedas, and more trouble if placed in the wrong hands.’ observed Solas.

Jowan concentrated looking into the glass. It shimmered and a soft outline of a figure appeared. Drawing my hands to my mouth, I covered the horrified expression on my face as I saw a templar at the mercy of Imshael. Cullen was on his knees surrounded by a globe of light. He was moaning, obviously in pain as he beheld something before him that I could not see.

What was that terror doing to Cullen?

‘He looks like he is in some sort of fortification?’ I panicked ‘Maker help us, it could be anywhere!!??’

Jowan’s eyes narrowed, his finger running across his lip in concentration. ‘Yes,’ he murmured ‘but I recognise that place all too well.’. Turning his dark eyes to Solas and I, Jowan nodded. ‘Cullen is at the Kinloch Hold in Ferelden. That is where Imshael has taken him.’

‘Why would that disgusting cretin take him there?’ I exclaimed. ‘We have to go there right now.’

Solas placed a gentle hand on my arm ‘No Ophelia, this is one journey Jowan must make alone.’

Jowan nodded in agreement. ‘Imshael will try and use you again to get me to break my contract. Even Solas is not safe there. No, I must face Imshael alone. If Cullen stands a chance, any chance, I must do this alone.’

‘One man against Imshael?!’ I chortled ‘Jowan you are powerful, but not even you could defeat him.’

The man looked at peace, as if he realised he could indeed be going to meet his death. ‘If there is a chance at defeating Imshael once and for all, then I need to try.’ proclaimed Jowan ‘I realise this now Ophelia. I accept this.’

Jowan looked surprised as I threw my arms around the man, lacing my fingers in his black hair as I drew him to me. He returned the hug in intensity, a sudden emotion overwhelming both of us.

‘I am so sorry for all the terrible things I said to you when I found out you were not Athalwolf.’ I whispered ‘You are still that great man, Jowan. You are one and the same. Thank you for doing this.’

Jowan held me close. ‘I am so sorry also,’ he murmured ‘for all this pain and suffering that I have caused.’

Squeezing him tight, I finally released the man. ‘I do not blame you for this. This is Imshael’s fault, not yours. Don’t let that bastard get to you.’

‘Good luck Jowan.’ added Solas ‘Do not forget that our harshest critic is our own self.’

Jowan nodded a silent thanks and retreated to his table, shoving three flat river stones in his pocket. Murmuring a chant under his breath, he drew to the mirror. It shimmered and rippled as the man drew closer, finally stepping into the glass and transporting to the place on the other side.

****

Shaking on the ground, Cullen’s eyes were shut tight and yet he was unable to block out the sound of his siblings, Mia, Branson and Rosalie, being burned at a stake before him. The scent of their flesh filled his nostrils, their gurgled cries echoing in his ears. Again and again, their deaths were replayed. He couldn’t bear it anymore. The pain was too real. All of it was too real.

Imshael laughed, enjoying the reaction from the templar. ‘Mmmm I can feel your distress Cullen. Isn’t this fun?’

Waving his hand, Imshael changed the image to Cullen’s mother and father. They held no weapons and were defenceless as darkspawn approached with blades drawn. The woman screamed and Cullen tore his eyes from the bloody display before him. ‘CURSE YOU!!!’ he roared, biting his lip in agony ‘You’re a fucking coward Imshael…..a fucking coward!’. Moisture welled in his amber eyes as he heard his parents die slowly at the hands of the darkspawn, the sound of their sobbing bringing tears to his eyes.

‘So mama and papa tried to flee to South Reach but didn’t even get past the gates of Honnleath.’ taunted Imshael ‘Did you feel guilty, Cullen? Knowing that while you were crying away in Greenfeel your family were fighting for their life? You could have saved your parents and you did nothing. You let them down in the worst possible way’. Imshael spat at the man ‘You are worthless.’

A glowing purple orb appeared to the side of Cullen’s orb, and the templar braced himself for a new sickly vision. His eyes lifted precariously and suddenly he noticed the image of Jowan apparating.

‘You!’ seethed Imshael, drawing swiftly across ‘Come back to die, have we?’

The image of Cullen’s parents faded, and all that remained was a furious elf and Jowan facing each other.

Jowan looked at the demon with disdain. ‘You demons are all the same.’ he scorned ‘Desperately clawing your way out of the fade for a chance to live in this realm and then you squander it away because you get too greedy.’. His black eyes caught sight of Cullen, noticing the haggard state of the templar encased in his glowing prison. ‘Imshael you pathetic clod.’ muttered the mage in disgust ‘I will take pleasure in destroying you.’

‘You will never send me back to the fade.’ laughed Imshael, crossing his hands in defiance.

Slowly the mage pulled out three stones from his pocket. Each was etched with an ancient looking rune. ‘Do you know what these are?’ asked Jowan. At his feet he place the first one, and quickly walked to the edge of the room to place the second. ‘I have no intention of sending you back to a place you can escape from. No Imshael, no no no.’. Jowan revealed a small and cruel smile towards the demon ‘I intend to petrify you.’

Imshael screamed, his claws extended as he began to cast a ball of fire at the mage. The heat was searing and made the room feel like a fiery furnace. The fireball rolled towards the mage.

Lifting his hand, Jowan held the fire before it reached him. Unable to quench the flame, all he could manage was to keep it inches back. Imshael smirked, taking delight at the expression on the mage’s red and sweaty face.

‘This reminds you of when you died at the shores of the Waking Sea, doesn’t it?’ he cooed ‘When Leliana engulfed you in flame. Do you remember how your flesh sizzled and melted away? The pain Jowan, even I can’t imagine how excruciating that would have been.’

Jowan’s hand shook as he clenched his fists, the flame slowly but surely dissipating before him. Without a word he continued to walk forward, laying the final stone, so a pattern of a triangle had been formed. A chant soft on his lips, the triangle began to glow blue as Jowan performed a spell.

Imshael clenched his fist, and Jowan screamed in pain as he fell to his knees. His hands held the blue barrier, maintaining the triangle, as he shook uncontrollably from the pain the demon was inflicting.

‘Jowan, Jowan you pitiful little mage.’ hissed Imshael ‘Your insignificance is apparent to all. No one likes you. No one has ever liked you. And do you know why? Because you are a perfect example of paltry. Insignificant. Weak.’. The demon laughed ‘The templars would humiliate you because they knew how weak you were. Remember the way they made you beg? The beatings you received behind closed doors? Do you remember what they made you do when no one was watching? Disgusting….you are weak, Jowan….you are pathetic.’

The mage cried out in pain at Imshael came closer, holding his fist tight. Jowan’s body trembled and shook violently, and yet he fought the silent attack with all the will he could muster. Hands planted firmly on the stone floor, he refused to let the blue triangle fade away as his black hair spilled forward.

The demon grinned, crouching down beside the mage. ‘So pathetic. You see other people out there in the realm and think every single one is better than you. Do you know why, Jowan? It is because they are. That is why they live normal lives while you, deviant one, entertain demons. Why is that? Is it because they are the only ones who will entertain you?’

Jowan screamed as Imshael placed a hand on his back, sending a surge of pain through his body. ‘Little vulture, the most cowardly of creatures.’ hissed the demon ‘It’s time for you to die.’

Cullen pushed himself against the sphere, to where Jowan remained on his knees. ‘That is not who you are Jowan.’ yelled out the templar ‘You have shown me your strength. Think of the mages who look up to you at Skyhold. The soldiers you have healed and who owe you their life. Think of all the good you have done and all the people who look up to you.’

Imshael leant over to Jowan’s ear. ‘They looked up to a lie,’ he taunted ‘didn’t they Lord Athalwolf?’

‘Do not listen to that foul creature.’ warned Cullen ‘We all know Leliana and Ophelia hold you in the highest esteem. After everything that has happened, they are still standing at your side.’

‘It’s all an act.’ laughed Imshael. He cast his attention to the templar ‘What about you Cullen? Are you standing behind Jowan’s side? No. You call him an abomination!’

‘I should never had said that.’ continued Cullen, ignoring the taunting demon ‘That is not who he is. Jowan you are intelligent yet humble, and you have shown us all that where there is a will there is a way. I may not have said it, but I can see how you have changed. You are worthy, Jowan. Leliana sees it, and as the Maker is my witness I now see it.’

Jowan wailed as Imshael sent more pain through his body. Beads of sweat fell from his face, mixed with teardrops that ran from his eyes. It was too much pain to endure. It was too much.

‘He’s lying!’ hissed Imshael ‘Cullen is a templar and he thinks you are an abomination just like me. He laughs at your feeble nature, just as he laughs at the death of your Lily.’

‘No Jowan, that is not true.’ refuted Cullen ‘I am sorry for how I have treated you and what I have said in the past. I was wrong about you. You have shown me who you are and it is anything but weak.’

His dark eyes closed, the pain willing him to give up…..

Raising his hands, Jowan burst the last bit of his strength into the spell. Blue light erupted from his fingertips and Imshael screamed, being flung back on the stones. Raising his hands upwards, Jowan’s voice grew loud and dark, echoing through the room and vibrating the stones. Imshael screeched in fear as the stones began to spin and pull towards him, as a magnet attracts another. The chant of Jowan grew faster and faster until it was nothing but a roaring hum. The stones pulsed and met, blue light blinding in a flash, before petrifying Imshael into stone, his grotesque figure contorted into a statue.

Jowan collapsed to his knees, his head slumped forward. ‘It is over.’ he choked, struggling to breathe air into his burning lungs.

Cullen’s eyes raced around his prison, one that was slowly fading before him until it disappeared. ‘Jowan!’. The templar ran over to the mage, wrapping his arm around his back and helping him up. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked fearfully, looking into the face of the exhausted mage.

Jowan took several minutes to speak. He was shaking, unable to support his weight and Cullen had the common sense not to let him go. The templar held him strongly, giving the mage some time, although he could not help notice that he too was shaking. A tremor in his hands, and that all too familiar pounding in the templar’s chest. His eyes dared not look around the room or at the statue. All Cullen wanted to do was leave.

Finally Jowan nodded, able to stand by himself. ‘Thank you.’ he murmured, his glossy black eyes returning to reality ‘I am okay.’

Cullen looked at Jowan with sheer gratitude. ‘You saved my life. Until my last breath, Jowan, I am indebted to you. Thank you…..thank you.’

The templar lunged towards the mage, and Jowan looked completely blindsided as the man embraced him. The mage held a small smile as the Commander gave him some space once more.

‘I think a house wine at the Herald will be adequate payment.’ the mage remarked sarcastically.

Cullen wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder to support him again. ‘You must have taken a knock to your head, you don’t know what you’re saying.’. Casting his amber eyes around the room, the Commander’s face grew dark. The templar’s hands started shaking uncontrollable, his metal pauldron rattling loud against his breastplate.

Jowan threw Cullen a concerned look, wrapping his arm now around under the arm of Cullen in order to support him. The templar’s eyes were glassy, but he maintained his decorum as the shaking eventually subsided.

‘Come,’ muttered Cullen darkly ‘let us leave here once and for all.’


	65. Escape to South Reach

_Tinder struck on a full moon’s night,_

_raw memories haunt the restless._

_Lost in a reverie of weeping willows,_

_a soul is caught amidst the shadows_

_Weary feet upon the gallows,_

_a final breath draws near._

_To say farewell and fly like sparrows,_

_if one falls amidst the shadows_

_A war of roses, a battle of hearts,_

_the clash of steel on steel._

_Pillage and plunder and burn the fallows,_

_stand and deliver amidst the shadows_

_Beware the friendly passer-by,_

_that travels with wit and charm._

_A knife in the gullet and a sky of arrows,_

_bleeding out amidst the shadows._

Swiftly she rode, her ginger hair flying behind her as she ascended the mountain path on her white steed. Several soldiers, mages and chantry templars followed close behind, eager to protect her at all costs. At that moment, however, Leliana was not in the slightest concerned for her wellbeing. She needed to reach Cullen and Jowan before it was too late. Was it already too late?

The beasts galloped hard between foamy snorts and high pitched whinnies, the heavy crunch of gravel beneath their fast paced hooves, pressing hard onwards along the rough rocky terrain.

News of Cullen’s abduction had reached Skyhold when Michel de Chevin and his party had returned to the keep. Frantically Leliana had sent several groups of soldiers throughout the Emerald Greaves, desperate to find any clue as to where Imshael would have taken Cullen. Cassandra had put it bluntly, if not aptly, it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. According to Varric, the haystack was the size of Thedas. It was only when Solas and the Inquisitor returned to Skyhold a day later that any real light was shed on the matter. Some real hope. Cullen had been taken to the Ferelden mages circle. Leliana’s relief soon turned into mortification. Her friend had been stolen away to the one place that he swore never to go again. The one place that had almost destroyed him.

Between the tall and narrow pine trees she rode fast, unwilling to slow down, and finally she came to the end of Sulcher’s Pass that led into the open sun burnt grass fields of Ferelden. Maintaining a furious gallop, the party rode a hard north towards Lake Calenhad, only to be stopped at the Imperial Highway by the sight of a lone traveller walking in the distance.

Leliana kicked her heels into the stirrups, riding towards the man with a familiar face, dressed in black robes. Jowan waved to her as she approached, surprised yet relieved to see the party on an otherwise bleak and isolated road.

‘Everything is fine.’ he called out, trying to placate the stampede heading towards him ‘We’re fine, we’re all fine.’. Frowning, Jowan turned to the empty space beside him. ‘Contrary to the fact that I am standing here alone, Cullen is fine. He is just not here.’

‘Where is he then?’ asked Leliana hastily, leaping off her saddle to land onto the hard red dirt road ‘Does Imshael have him? Is he at the Kinloch Hold? Is he hurt?’

‘No Imshael is indisposed at the moment. I turned him into a rather nice centrepiece, solid stone.’ answered Jowan, a smug curl on his lip.

Noticing Leliana’s frantic eyes, the mage quickly related the entire story to the spymaster. Her expression grew more and more agitated as the tale progressed, her nails running in the soft leather gauntlets as she listened on silently. When Jowan was finished, there was relief on her face but the lines on her forehead remained.

‘Thank the Maker you were there.’ murmured Leliana. She raised her green eyes to the mage sharply ‘But you have not said where Cullen is now? Why did he not come back with you?’

Jowan shook his head, apparently none the wiser. ‘He was for a while, and then he turned around and started walking in the other direction. Said he had to go to South Reach.’

‘South Reach?’ replied Leliana with a frown ‘Why did he want to go there?’

Jowan threw a flippant hand in the air ‘Ambiguous would be an understatement when it comes to Cullen’s motivations. The man was in no state to be traipsing across the Ferelden countryside but he was adamant I leave him be. He merely told me he had some business to attend to. I mean I can’t imagine how, considering a demon abducted him in the first place. It wasn’t as if he were on his way to South Reach before we all took a rather unpleasant detour. Nevertheless….’

The mage shrugged, as if he had conceded to defeat.

‘Mia.’ murmured Leliana.

Jowan looked confused, and the spymaster shook her head.

‘Never mind.’ she replied, quickly mounting her horse once more ‘Soldiers, see that Jowan gets back safely to Skyhold.’. Turning her attention to the templar escort, she added firmly ‘I take this next journey by myself.’

Without hesitation, Leliana galloped off along the grass path, into the depths of Hinterlands.

****

‘How could you have been so reckless?!’ demanded Michel angrily, sweeping his blonde hair back as he paced the room ‘Ophelia you could have died out there! Imshael was this close to taking you with him.’

Having returned to Skyhold with help from Solas, who managed to transport us out of The Nephilim Realm and a short distance from Skyhold, we had stumbled through the gates and marched directly to the war council to inform the council of what had occurred. Leliana had only to hear the words Kinloch Hold before she bolted out of the room, calling for her men to prepare the horses. Meanwhile the remaining counsel pummelled us with questions until they were satisfied. Finally I was able to leave for some well-deserved rest, although even that was uncertain. Retiring to my room with a furious chevalier by my side, I was now left with the repercussions of my former actions.

Frowning, I poured myself a glass of wine, turning back to the agitated chevalier who stood before me. ‘Michel I was just trying to help.’ I explained irritably.

He shook his head, looking displeased at the curt answer. ‘Well? Did you succeed?’ he asked shortly, knowing the answer.

‘I made the choice that I thought was the right one at the time.’ I retorted, taking a large sip of wine ‘There was no crystal ball to foresee what was going to happen. For crying out loud, why are we even having this conversation?!’

The chevalier cursed in elvish under his breath, looking more and more incensed at my refusal to admit I was in the wrong. ‘Imshael was my problem.’ remarked Michel ‘Now because of you, Cullen is paying my debt.’

Groaning, I took another large sip. ‘How is Imshael your problem? Jowan was the one who released him in the first place, and then I was the one who ensured he escaped. If anything, we are the ones who should be cleaning up this mess.’

Michel looked troubled, his blue eyes no longer filled with that jovial spark. ‘For all we know Cullen is now possessed by Imshael. He should not be involved in this.’

‘You do not have to remind me that Cullen’s abduction is my fault.’ I muttered ‘Maker curse me, I would have done anything for it have been otherwise. This is my fault. It should have been me that Imshael took, not him. Now he’s being tortured in that awful tower and there is nothing that I can do about it. Do not stand here and lecture me now about this nonsense. The problem is out there.’

The chevalier looked tired, his face wrought with guilt. ‘Ophelia it was my problem, not anyone else’s.’ he replied ‘Had I my time again I would have not taken anyone with me.’

‘Then you would be dead.’ I replied dryly ‘No scrap that. You would be now possessed by a demon who would be tapping into your powers and wreaking havoc on the realm. Killing innocents and can we imagine what else? Do you think that was the better alternative?’

‘You were prepared to sacrifice your life for Cullen and I.’ observed Michel sternly ‘How can any of us properly protect you when you are so reckless. So flippant with your longevity, time and time again?’

In shock, I lowered my cup heavily onto the table. ‘I was willing to sacrifice my life to save both of yours because I care about you both. What else was I supposed to do?’

Michel shook his head, bitterly chuckling at the comment. ‘Unbelievable.’ he muttered. The Orlesian flung his hand towards me. ‘And that there stands the very core of the problem.’

It suddenly occurred to me that this was more personal than Michel was admitting. It wasn’t the fact that I had offered my life up, it was the fact that I had done it for Cullen. Frowning, I was about to reply when a loud banging sounded on my door. Michel turned away, making his way down the stairs with sharp steps. A red faced soldier appeared on the other side, eager to relay a message.

‘Sir, there has been a sighting of a dozen Red Templar’s at Pyke’s Peak. Commander Cullen is not in Skyhold, so you are acting Commander. What are you Orders?’

The chevalier paused, his thoughts now distracted by something more pressing. ‘We will ride out immediately.’ ordered Michel, throwing a firm nod to the soldier ‘Gather twenty of our best soldiers and mages, and prepare to leave at once. I will meet you at the gates.’

Michel quickly ascended the stairs once more, a frown still on his face as he approached me.

‘So many?’ I remarked in surprise, concerned at the mention of Red Templar’s so close to the keep.

The knight shook his head. ‘More and more are using Sulcher’s Pass to gain access to the mines along the ranges. Hopefully they will lead us to their camp.’. Resting a firm hand on my shoulder. Michel placed a peck on my cheek. ‘In Orlais we never say goodbye on bad terms.’ he informed darkly, turning away to descend the stairs once more ‘Au revoir, ma cherie.’

‘Be safe.’ I called out, only to hear the door slam shut.

****

Casting her amber eyes out across from the veranda, a content smile crossed her face. She loved this time of year. A mid late spring morning when the cream flowers of the gardenia bushes were warmed by the rising sun, releasing their sweet fragrance into the air. Birds called to each other from the high tree tops, noisily perhaps, but there was something invigorating in hearing the sound of the kookaburra’s laugh warning of snakes below. The crickets were softly humming, and the warm breeze blew gently, causing the willows to billow softly.

Spotting a pair of limbs dangling from a nearby peppertree, she pointed her finger sharply.

‘Taliesin and Myrddin, get down here right now and fetch some water for breakfast!’ she called out.

The sound of giggling came from the concealed branches, but no persons emerged. Sighing, she turned away and started for the main gate to collect some more wood. No matter how many times she asked her children to do chores, they would always end up ignoring her and returning to hide in that damnable tree.

Her worn leather boots scuffed along the dusty path and she bunched up her skirts to avoid catching sticks in the frayed hem. It would have worked, had she not dropped her skirts moments later, slowly moving forward as she caught sight of a familiar man at the entrance of the estate.

‘Cullen?’ she whispered, heart pounding in her chest.

There he was, a warrior before her. No longer the boy she remembered but still the brother she knew. The one that had dreamed of being a templar as he ran through the fields of Honnleath, a stick in his hand for a sword. Now dressed in spectacle silver plate armour with the crest of the Inquisition printed on his breastplate, a Commander of the Inquisition. He looked tired, as if he had been travelling for some time, but not even the fatigue could wipe the small smile on his lips as he stood there.

Collecting her white petticoats, the woman started running towards the templar, flinging her arms around his neck. ‘Brother!’ she cried out, holding him close ‘Thank the Maker! You’ve returned!’

Cullen returned the embrace, holding her just as tight. ‘It has been too long, Mia.’ confessed Cullen. Finally pulling away, he revealed an affectionate smile.

The woman laughed in disbelief, clasping her brother warmly at the cheeks. ‘Six years brother…it’s been six years between visits! Branson half convinced me you were dead before I had the sense to write to you at Skyhold a year ago and hope for the best. And here you are, Commander of the Inquisition.’. Mia frowned, sensing something was amiss. Fatigued and dishevelled, her brother looked slightly off. ‘Cullen, what is it? Are you alright?’

‘Nothing gets by you, eh?’ he observed, rubbing his aching lower back. ‘I’m fine, just sore from a long rickety ride in a merchant’s wagon. Hitching rides wasn’t like when we were young.’

Mia looked surprised. ‘You hitched a ride here? On a wagon?’. Noticing her brother’s knee grow weak for a moment, before standing upright once again, her hand instinctively rushed to meet his.

The templar rubbed his eyes, looking disorientated. ‘It’s nothing.’ he replied wearily ‘I’m just feeling a little light headed..I should…..’

Mia’s lunged for Cullen as he collapsed. Unable to support his great weight, she fell onto the dusty ground alongside the armour clad man.

‘Taliesin! Myrddin!’ she yelled out ‘Come quick! I need your help!’

****

The wind blew at my outstretched fingers as I sat on the battlements. The feeling of not knowing whether Cullen was alive or not was eating away at me. Never did I realise how dearly I missed the man until he was out of my sight, but this took it to a new level. To know that I may not see him again was unbearable. Everything memory and every feeling that I had felt for Cullen was flooding back into my mind. All the petty arguments we had had now seemed irrelevant. All the doubt and pain had simply faded away. I wanted to say sorry to him. To apologise for all the hurt I had caused and for all pain he was suffering now because of me.

A pebble flew across my line of vision, hitting the parapet before tumbling over into the depths below. Someone whistled, and a head popped up from the staircase leading to the battlements. It was Varric.

‘You okay Sparrow?’ asked the rogue, sidling up beside me. He settled onto the stone floor, resting his back against the parapet ‘Some journey eh? I’d complain but I guess I wasn’t the one that ended up being mauled by a friggin demon.’

‘Tell me about it.’ I muttered, shifting uneasily as I recalled the moment Imshael had lurched towards me.

The dwarf eyed my collarbone. ‘How’s your chest going?’ he asked.

‘Is that the new pick up line at the Herald?’ I mused, throwing my companion a grin.

Varric slapped his knee with a chuckle ‘Well shit if it wasn’t before, it is now!’

Pulling down my shirt, I showed him the large bandage covering my chest. ‘Bastard has sharp nails.’ I grimaced ‘Took Jowan twenty-two stitches to patch me up.’

Varric shuddered. ‘That Imshael is the creepiest elf I’ve ever seen, and that’s including Chuckles when he’s run out of tea in the middle of the night.’

Unwilling to reveal the fears in my mind lest they come true, I ventured instead to ask the question that had been on my mind ever since I had seen Cullen in the looking glass. ‘What do…what do you think is going on in the Kinloch Hold?’

Varric gave me a reassuring nudge with his elbow ‘Ah don’t worry. If there was one mage I’d choose to save me it would be Riddles. I mean, no offence to your skills Sparrow, but he’s got a lot of tricks up his sleeve that one.’

I looked unconvinced. ‘You know how powerful Imshael is, we’ve both seen it first hand on a few occasions now. Do you really think Jowan is his match? My head is telling me I should have gone with Leliana and the soldiers.’

Varric pointed a stumpy, albeit accusing, finger at me ‘You were told to stay put by Jowan, and let him take care of this. You don’t want a repeat of what happened in the forest.’

Our attention was suddenly diverted as the keep’s horn sounded. A low hum that vibrated the stones and sent the dogs barking in excitement. The noise of horses and voices could be heard in the distance, drawing closer, galloping across the gate into Skyhold. Varric jumped up to view the spectacle, casting his eyes brown down into the courtyard below.

‘Goldilocks just got back.’ he announced, leaning further over the parapet to get a better view ‘Appears pretty calm, that’s always a good sign. No one injured either by the look of it.’. Varric laughed, pointing down across ‘I didn’t notice it before but Goldilocks has the same expression that Curly puts on in front of the troops. That flinty stare is a dead ringer I swear!’

Clenching my jaw, I wasn’t interested in jumping up to see what was happening below. Varric grinned, noticing my irritation.

‘You and Goldilocks having a tiff?’ he asked, growing more amused at my silence.

‘He’s angry that I followed him into the Emerald Greaves.’ I answered dryly ‘We’ve never fought before, so it’s bitter to say the least.’

Varric laughed. ‘Heck, well you did cause a lot of shit by lying to everyone about not coming along and then coming along.’ pointed out the rogue.

I threw my companion an unimpressed look. ‘Cullen is out there being tortured at the moment and I am here being chastised like a minor. Curse it, I should be out there looking for him and damn well helping.’

‘The privilege of having glowing hands, Sparrow.’ shrugged Varric ‘If it makes you feel better no one gives a shit about you, just your hands.’

He flashed me a teasing wink, but I suspected there was truth behind the words. If I wasn’t the Inquisitor and didn’t hold the mark, I would be nobody. Which suited me fine, for then I could do as I please instead of acting like the puppet that I was.

‘No one can see me or here me.’ I observed dejectedly ‘As if I were hidden in shadow. I keep on looking into the eyes of people who do not see me.’

Varric sighed ‘It’s all bullshit, I know you better than you can imagine. You’re reckless, inclined to be a hermit, semi-eccentric but sharp as a raven. You wear your heart on your sleeve and hide your balls, but they’re giant and Maker knows we need that in a leader.’

‘Varric I don’t have balls.’ I mused dryly.

The rogue tapped his nose, a wide grin on his face. ‘What the eye don’t see.’

I shook my head in frustration and Varric laughed.

Sadly I drew my arms around my knees. ‘Cullen would sometimes talk about what happened to him at the Kinloch Hold, and…’. I sighed, shaking my head. ‘He was tortured Varric. Broken in that evil place. Cullen came out a changed man. And what does he do now? He sacrifices himself to a fucking demon to protect me.’

Varric patted me on the back as he made his way to the stairs. ‘Are you starting to see why I was happy for Riddles to perform blood magic to save the Seeker?’

‘Athalwolf deceived us.’ I replied, trying to justify his decision.

The rogue looked more than a little sceptical. ‘Sorry Sparrow you’ve gotta face it sooner or later.’ observed Varric darkly, descending the stairs ‘At the end of the day we’re only deceiving ourselves.’

****

The afternoon sun filtered through the window as his amber eyes slowly blinked open. Cullen was lying in a bed, stripped to his undergarments, and his body was covered by a soft knitted blue blanket. Sitting up in a panic, he tried to remember where he was. That few seconds of calm upon waking was now being replaced with the terror of previous days, as all the memories flooded back. Of being trapped by Imshael in the Kinloch Hold. Of being tortured, and knowing in the back of his head that he would soon be possessed and his life forfeit.

Creak…..

The door of his room opened, and Mia tip toed in quietly, holding a basin of water in one hand and a plate of warm bread and honey in the other. Noticing her brother was awake she looked relieved.

‘I made you some brown bread, just like mother used to make.’ she informed, adding with a frown ‘You look like you could do with a meal or three. How are you feeling?’

‘How long have I been here?’ Cullen asked, looking around the room with vague familiarity ‘I half thought me coming here was but a dream.’

Placing down the plate on his lap, she took a seat at the end of his bed. ‘You collapsed this morning out at the entrance. Do you not remember? You looked worse for wear before than you do now. I half shook the armour right off you, trying to get you to wake. You scared me, brother.’

Taking a piece of the bread, Cullen nodded in thanks, bringing the morsel to his lips. ‘It was a long journey and some unexpected trouble came upon me. I have not slept for a few days, most likely exhaustion got the better of me.’

‘Trouble?’ echoed Mia, looking worried ‘What unexpected trouble?’

Cullen shook his head. ‘It was nothing in the end. I’m sorry, I should have given you notice before turning up unannounced.’

Mia scoffed. ‘You should have come here sooner unannounced. And since when did you become a stranger that had to announce his arrival?’

‘I deserve the title of stranger, the good I’ve done for you all.’ Cullen muttered. His eyes turned to the window where a boy and a girl were peaking in through the glass, both with similar features to that of Mia and Cullen. ‘Are they the little ones?’ he remarked in surprise, turning back to his sister.

‘Aye the wee bairns.’ chuckled Mia, rolling her eyes ‘Not so wee these days I suppose. Taliesin’s eight now and Myrddin’s just turned six.’

She clapped her hands loudly and the two children scurried away from spying on the pair.

‘The last time I saw them, Myrddin was a baby and Taliesin was two years old!’ remarked Cullen in surprise ‘Has it been that long already? Maker’s breath. How’s John doing? Still making his famous honey mead? He’ll be amused to find they serve it even up in the Frostback Mountains! ’

A quietness fell over Mia as she preoccupied herself with the unnecessary task of straightening the edge of the blanket. ‘He died.’ she replied stoutly ‘The winter before last.’

Cullen grabbed his sister’s hand, looking shocked. ‘Mia….you never said a word in your letters. What happened?’

Her eyes growing dewy, Mia shook her head, refusing to entertain the emotion. ‘I didn’t want to worry you, you had enough on your plate. John’s heart gave way, I’m sure of it. He’d been complaining about it for a while, sudden sharp pains that became more often. He’d seen some healers in The Bannorn but they said he was fine. Blamed it on his diet.’. Mia’s jaw clenched, shaking her head. ‘The one day I found him collapsed in the stables and it was too late. We buried him in the field, next the mother and father.’

The templar looked sadly upon his sister. ‘I’m so sorry. John was a good man. I regret not being here even more now. When you and the children would have needed me.’

Mia shrugged ‘We’ve all been through tough times, eh? From what I’ve heard you’re lucky to be alive after what happened in Haven. It’s a wonder you’re still here.’

Cullen looked troubled. ‘But I wasn’t here when I should have.’

She shook her head, dismissing her brother’s concerns. ‘Branson has been helpful, dropping in every few months to check up on us. He keeps a company of soldiers in Birkhamshire so he’s always keeping an eye on us.’

‘He’s still serving the crown then?’ remarked Cullen, unenthusiastically.

Pursing her lips, Mia frowned at her brother. ‘He likes serving the crown, there’s nothing wrong in that.’

‘There’s honour in it, but not much else.’ muttered Cullen ‘I’ve half a mind to offer him a proper title in the Inquisition. I would if I didn’t think he’d reject it on the spot.’

Mia chuckled. ‘When has Branson ever wanted help? Especially from his older brother! He’s even more stubborn than you, Cullen.’

‘There’s a worry.’ mused Cullen, rolling his eyes. ‘What of Rosalie? Where is she these days?’

His sister looked displeased at the mention of their youngest sibling. ‘Maker help us all with that one.’ she muttered.

‘How’s that?’ remarked Cullen ‘The last time I was here she was talking about travelling to Cumberland to start a stall?’

Mia laughed, standing up from the bed. ‘Well you got half of that right. Rosalie ran off to Cumberland but it was not for business. She set her cap at a lord she met, one that was passing through South Reach that she happened upon. Already married mind you, although it didn’t seem to bother her. True love never gets bogged down by the details. So up she went to chase after him in Cumberland. Nothing came of it, and that was the last I heard of her.’. Noticing her brother’s worried look, Mia waved her hand. ‘Don’t worry, Branson found her a few months back working as a governess for some rich family in West Hill. Let us be thankful the flibberty gibbert isn’t working as a lady of the night, although I can’t be certain she isn’t.’

The templar breathed out heavily, resting back on his pillows. ‘So much has happened since I’ve been away.’

Mia shook her head in disbelief. ‘Here’s coming from the man that I’m told has recently been made the Divine’s Right Hand? And you’re leading the Templar Order at Ostagar? Our lives pale in comparison to yours, exalted one!’

‘News travels fast I see.’ muttered Cullen ‘The templars were in desperate need of direction, I merely stepped in to lend a hand. And the Divine is someone I have known for many years, which is the only reason I ended up in that role. Leliana’s a good friend. I’m sure I’ve mentioned her?’

Cullen frowned, noticing the amused look on his sister’s face. ‘What?’

‘Leliana? Leliana has been sending us a crate of sundries for as long as I can remember. Going on ten years now I suppose. Same time each year at the Winter Solstice, when we need it the most. She always signed a card with your name, although now I know better hmmm?’

The Commander chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Well played spymaster.’ he murmured.

‘What about you?’ asked Mia, raising a brow ‘Or should I say you and the Inquisitor?’

‘No longer together.’ answered Cullen, raising a mocking brow.

‘Oh.’ frowned Mia ‘I’m sorry.’

The templar shrugged. ‘You would have liked Ophelia I’m certain, she was sweet. But it was not meant to be in the end.’. He drew his eyes around the room, unwilling to say more on the matter. ‘Would it be too much to ask if I could stay a few days here. To say I needed a break would be an understatement.’

Mia looked pleased, nodding enthusiastically to her brother’s request. ‘I was hoping you’d say that. There’s a guest cottage by the lake. You can stay there as long as you need.’


	66. Dark Winged Creatures of Despair

There he sat, blankly looking out across the calm blue lake. Numb and alone, there was nothing except him and that still water. Where he ended and the lake begun, he could no longer tell, for everything felt the same. He breathed and yet he did not feel alive. The sun fell across his shoulders, and yet a coldness crept inside him. Occasionally an image from the Kinloch Hold came to mind. A bloody face. A curdled scream. The scent of death. Imshael had not tortured real people as had the initial demons, however the demon had been right. The images and the pain shown to Cullen had set in his mind like stone and there it stayed, wounding him as he recalled the visions. The images felt so real and now he couldn’t differentiate reality from fantasy, and there was something unnerving about that.

Did his mother and father die as Imshael had shown him? Their bodies had been found on the outskirts of Honnleath, no doubt murdered by the darkspawn that had ravaged the area. Cullen grabbed his head in agony, beads of sweet rolling down his forehead. He could see the looks on their faces as the blades came closer, knowing they were about to be run through. There was no escape from death. There was no escape from their final horrific moments on this pitiful realm.

The templar shook his head furiously, determined to be rid of the gruesome images…..

Why was she wearing the necklace he had given her? That green emerald around Ophelia’s neck, exposed by the claws of Imshael. A gift that was sentimental between them, for it reminded him of her. Her eyes. Eyes that melted his very core. She was with Michel now and yet there she was wearing that necklace under her tunic? Why?

Rubbing his face with his palms, he tried to stop the incessant thoughts. He just wanted to forget, and the more he tried the faster they flooded his mind.

What was he doing? Leading the soldiers of the Inquisition against a force like Corypheus and his demon army. Demons like Imshael that had so much power over the mere mortal. None of them were safe, and especially not the mages of the realm. Cullen knew templars that could not do their job while the mages remained free and unwatched. Before too long demons would corrupt the minds and bodies of all people. What chance did any of them have? They were all doomed…..

The Commander’s thoughts were distracted as the crunch of leaves sounded behind him. Casting his frantic eyes towards the sound, he looked up to see Leliana approaching him. She looked concerned, extending an arm that reached out to him.

‘Cullen are you alright?’

Turning back to look at the lake, Cullen’s eyes glazed over once more. ‘The demon is dead,’ he muttered ‘and I am alive. What’s more to be said on the matter?’

Leliana joined the templar by his side, placing herself down on the soft grass. Moments of silence passed, and every now and then Leliana cast her worried green eyes to the unresponsive man.

‘What are you doing here, Leliana?’ the templar muttered ‘How did you even know I was here?’

‘We came across Jowan on the Imperial highway.’ replied the spymaster ‘He told me what had happened and mentioned you were going to South Reach. Something told me it had to be here that you were going. I saw Mia up at the household, she said I’d find you at the lake.’. Leliana grew quiet, looking over at the dismal templar. ‘Don’t bottle this up inside.’ she appealed, placing a hand on his arm ‘You can talk to me about what happened.’

Cullen scowled, brushing his hand away, as if desiring to brush away her concerns also. ‘You cannot help me and this is not something I can talk through. It’s not something I want to. What’s done is done. Do not fuss.’

Leliana remained solemn. ‘Do not forget that I was there the first time you were held in the Kinloch Hold. For you to be taken back there again against your will? Whatever happened in that tower, do not think you must face that alone.’

‘You cannot erase the memory of what has happened, that’s the problem.’ snapped Cullen, tapping his head angrily ‘It’s in here now and it’s there to fuck with me, day in day out, along with all the other shit. And there is nothing to be done about it!’. The Commander bent his head forward, resting them against his hands. ‘That empty void deep in my core, why does it feel so heavy all of a sudden?’ asked Cullen darkly. He lifted his tormented face to her ‘I feel…I feel nothing.’

‘Sometimes it’s better to feel nothing rather than to feel everything.’ Leliana replied quietly ‘It is the way we cope. Cullen, you will get through this.’

With a bitter chuckle, the templar shook his head. ‘No Leliana, I think I’m officially done with getting through another fucked up situation. I’m tired and there is no going back for me this time.’

‘Going back?’ frowned Leliana.

Cullen’s face was covered in shadows, his amber eyes drenched in darkness as he lifted them to meet hers. ‘I know who I am. There was a time when I thought things could be different, but it was a fleeting moment that left a bitter taste in my mouth. Foolish disillusionment.’. The man laughed bitterly, shaking his head ‘Foolish indeed.’

Leliana looked as if she disagreed. ‘It’s not foolish to move on, hoping things will be different.’

‘It is foolish to believe in fairy tales and make believe.’ scowled Cullen ‘The tortured soul does not live happily ever after. The tainted heart will never be pure. I’m a prisoner, locked away in a cage. And there I have been since I was entrapped by those demons twelve years ago. I may have escaped the tower, but in my head I have been imprisoned ever since that day, my spirit growing more and more tired as the years pass by. There isn’t a moment that I don’t feel the fear of a dark memory long gone. And that is because it hasn’t gone, not really. I live through it again and again. Making me blacker in nature and soul, conditioning me to experience nothing but sheer despair. I am cloaked by pain until I am that pain and I crave it most cruelly. Each devious prurient urge beckons me to entertain it and I will be its most sadistic host.’

Cullen drew his sight away from the lake before him, and towards his companion. His eyes were burning, filled with darker thoughts he dared not speak. The templar lifted his hand to Leliana’s and entwined his fingers through hers, pulling her towards him.

The spymaster frowned. ‘Mia said you were going to stay on here for a few days.’ observed Leliana ‘I think that is good. Spend some time on the estate and rest.’

‘You know that’s not what I need right now.’ replied Cullen in a low voice, gently turning her chin to face him ‘You know that is not what I speak of.’

His lips raw and hungry, the Commander drew his mouth to hers and engulfed Leliana with a savage kiss, his tongue delving deep as he grabbed fistfuls of her fiery hair in his strong hands. Cullen melted into another intimate kiss, followed by another, unwilling to stop as they grew more heated and furious. Finally pulling away, Cullen maintained his firm hold on Leliana’s locks as he stared intently into her green eyes.

‘I want you.’ murmured Cullen in a husky voice ‘To fuck you and to lose myself in that lascivious haze of debauchery. Will you let me do that?’

Leliana gently clasped her hands to his cheeks, a genuine regret in her eyes. ‘You know this is not what you want.’ she replied softly ‘After everything that has happened this will cause more problems.’

‘Ophelia?’ remarked Cullen, scoffing at the comment. ‘We’re not together. She’s moved on with the Maister, you know that.’

‘You offered up your life for hers back in the Dales.’ retorted Leliana, looking unconvinced ‘You love her.’

‘Perhaps I do, but she loves someone else now.’ muttered Cullen ‘When does it fucking end Leliana? Of course I didn’t want to see Ophelia destroyed by that demon. I’m already destroyed. My life is already spent. Don’t you see? My love for her, every feeling that I have. I have to put all of that aside or it will destroy me. Her life, her death, my life, my death…I cannot bear it any longer.’. The templar went silent for a moment, consumed by the visions again. He turned back to Leliana angrily. ‘Ophelia has her own needs to attend to, and so do I. Needs that scream at me to appease them.’. The Commander pulled the spymaster close, his forehead pressed against hers. ‘Love is a flawed concept that rarely keeps balance.’ he whispered darkly ‘I shall spurn it and cast it aside. Damn its name as it burns before me. CURSE IT!!! I’m not asking you to be my significant other, for fucks sake. All I want is to appease my carnal desires with you. Like we used to. Will you submit to me?’

Leliana reluctantly pulled away from him, standing up and taking a few steps back. Cullen rose to meet her, placing his strong hands on her upper arms. She drew her breath deep upon feeling his force upon her, his stern gaze drawing her in as he towered over her petite frame.

‘I asked you a question.’ Cullen observed authoritatively ‘Will you submit to me?’

Pressing his fingers into her armour, Cullen’s hands were strong and held her secure. His breathing was deep, and his eyes intense, refusing to pull away from her. Leliana was his match and yet even he knew the power he held over her at times like these. Perhaps it was wrong to do play with her like he did, but he didn’t care. Not at this moment. Nothing mattered when his carnal desires ordered her to submit for his gratification.

‘Cullen-.’ began Leliana.

‘Leli.’ he murmured in a softer tone, cupping her cheek. Cullen ran a wicked finger across her jaw, trailing over her lips in light and teasing strokes. Tilting his head, he held an innocent smile ‘Will you submit to me?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I know what you doing.’

Cullen threw a devious smile as he ran his hand through his soft sandy hair, his eyes looking adoringly into hers. His hands trailed gently across her hips. ‘We always were a good team, you and I. No limits, no boundaries. Succumbing to our filthiest desires without regret.’

‘You and I like to dominate Cullen, we are on the same side of the coin. It’s a volatile match.’ she replied, pretending to be unswayed.

Cullen chuckled, running his thumb across his unshaven chiselled jaw and across his bottom lip. ‘It’s funny for I seem to recall you’ve enjoyed being taken in the past? Too many times to count. Of course, you can deny me the pleasure? I’ll ask one more time and no more. Will you submit to me?’

The spymaster hesitated, taking in the heated man before her. His lustful gaze on her, waiting for the answer he desired. Her eyes looked around the lake dubiously, a smirk on her face. ‘A little out in the open here, are we not?’

‘You let me worry about the details.’ Cullen growled, pulling her tighter to him ‘What say you?’

‘Yes.’ she replied.

Cullen grabbed her ginger hair in his fist, pulling her firmly to his lips. Deeply he kissed her, exploring her mouth passionately, sucking her lips as he pulled away, only to draw her into another harder kiss. The templar’s hands explored as his mouth continued to entertain her sweet lips. His mind was racing, only wanting to release the beast within him. The one that could drown his pain in unadulterated pleasure….if only for a while.

Pulling away, he firmly grasped her head in his hands. His lips were inches away from hers as he held her.

‘Yes what?’ he asked dangerously.

A curl on her lips, her green eyes met his ‘Yes Sir.’

Cullen brushed his lips across hers, refusing to give her more.

‘Good girl.’ he replied.

Taking her hand he led her towards the guest cottage by the lake. A small wooden hut more than anything, nestled beside some tall pine trees. As they stepped through the tired wooden door they were greeted by a small room with a fireplace and an adjoining smaller room with a bed.

‘Go to the bedroom.’ ordered Cullen, turning to lock the door.

He followed soon after. Leliana stood before the bed, an amused look on her face.

‘Something funny?’ asked Cullen, pulling her roughly against him. Smiling wickedly at her ear, he whispered ‘Choose your safe word spymaster.’

Leliana scoffed. ‘You won’t cross my boundaries so there is no need.’

Cullen raised a suggestive brow ‘Is that a challenge?’

‘No, it’s a fact.’ quipped the spymaster.

Wrapping his arms around her, Cullen held her against his firm body. ‘Nevertheless it is my rule.’ he added sternly.

‘Fine.’ remarked Leliana, rolling her eyes ‘Bannorn.’

The templar threw her an amused look and Leliana crossed her arms with a grin, refusing to elaborate on the chosen word. ‘Bannorn it is.’ mused Cullen, adding devilishly ‘If for some reason you cannot speak, a wink will suffice.’

Leliana grinned as Cullen began to unbuckle her armour, pulling away the pieces in silence, his intense amber eyes drawn to her milky skin as he tossed away her attire onto the ground. Finally all that remained was a transparent cotton shift covering her body. Cullen brought his hands to the v neck and without warning ripping the garment, a loud tear sounding as he shredded it apart, revealing her naked body. Clasping the loose material, he flung it to the floor before standing fast against Leliana, who kept her eyes obediently to the ground. He ran his thumb across her soft pink lips as he held a smirk.

‘Maker’s breath,’ he murmured ‘you have no idea how fucking aroused I get when you’re like this. Eyes to the ground and naked, ready for me to do whatever I please. Your body is mine. Your mind is mine. You are Mine. Mine. Do you like submitting to me?’

‘Of course, Sir.’ replied Leliana swiftly ‘Your pleasure is my pleasure.’

Cullen placed a tender kiss on her neck. ‘Good girl.’ he whispered.

Pulling off his belt, he proceeded to wrap the leather tight around her throat and secured it. The templar looked down at her with a severe glare, tugging the leather a few times to see her gasp. He enjoyed asphyxiation in all forms, and it always made his dick extremely hard to see his submissives with something secured around their neck. A belt, a scarf, his hands. It made the templar aroused to see restriction. Being bound.

A sinister smile on his lips, Cullen commenced to take his armour off before her. He pulled his cuirass off, dropping it heavily beside her with a thud. He did the same with the greaves, faulds, pauldrons, and cuisses, all dropping heavily and within inches of where she stood. Finally Cullen removed his cotton shirt revealing his tanned muscular abdomen, firm chest and broad shoulders. Swiftly he removed his trousers, his hard thighs exposed and his rock hard cock sprung out.

The naked templar walked over to his bedside table, retrieving his poignard. He held the hilt firm in one hand, and rested the sharp tip against his thumb on the other. Walking back to Leliana, he smiled.

‘Do you remember this?’ he asked softly.

Her green eyes moved to the blade. ‘Yes Sir.’

Cullen gently ran the flat side of the blade across her cheek, trailing it down to her shoulder and running down her arm. It stopped at her upper forearm. The templar drew in a deep breath, thrilled at the prospect of things to come. He lifted his eyes to hers, holding the blade to her skin.

‘Will you allow me to cut you?’ he asked lowly ‘It will hurt and shall be bloody.’

Leliana nodded, a small smile on her lips. ‘Yes Sir.’

Cullen’s lip curled, suddenly running the blade across her skin. His sadistic tendencies had always been drawn to the pain induced by blade. There was something that excited him about the sharp sting of steel, and whether he cared to admit it or not, even when in the midst of a battle the unexpected cut of a blade was not always as unwelcomed as one would imagine.

Leliana bit her lip but refused to make a sound as Cullen slit her skin. The cut was deep enough to cause a small line of blood. Lowering his mouth to her arm, the templar licked her blood with his warm tongue, savouring the taste as he lapped over the fresh wound a few more times over. Pulling away, the templar began to trail the blade across her skin once more, down her torso and around to her back. The dagger point lingered at her right buttock before he ran the blade into her flesh again. This time Leliana cried out. Cullen fell to his knees, kissing the fresh cut that ran a bit deeper this time.

‘Good girl.’ he cooed, placing a kiss on her hip before returning to lick the blood from the cut on her buttock.

The templar’s lips trailed down to her labia, breathing on her pink lips and teasing her clit with his warm breath before returning to lap at the blood trickling down her cheek.

Running the cold metal blade down her inner thigh, she squirmed at the sensation of something so sharp on such a sensitive area.

Cullen rubbed her leg, trying to calm her. ‘Shhhh.’ he murmured ‘That’s the way, just relax.’

Slowly and lightly he ran the blade this time, barely cutting the skin. He relished the way Leliana writhed at the sensation, her lithe body fidgeting at the apparent arousal it was causing her. Pressing the blade harder, the skin broke in a sharp line and Leliana cried out in pain. Blood spilled forward as the templar brought his hungry lips to her soft inner thigh and he sucked passionately, moaning at the erotic taste on his tongue before turning to place a kiss on her wet lips. His tongue lapped at her clit, teasing her several times before pulling away. Finally rising to his feet, Cullen handed the blade to Leliana.

‘Now me.’ he ordered.

Leliana took the blade as Cullen waited, his naked brooding physique standing over her. She placed the knife at his muscular chest and ran a swift cut above his breast. Cullen moaned at the sensation, breathing deep into lungs before exhaling, looking down at the trickle of crimson.

‘Good.’ he murmured, smearing the blood with his thumb ‘Red always was my favourite colour.’

‘May I taste you Sir?’ Leliana asked, her lips lingering at the trickle of blood.

‘No.’ replied Cullen, looking at the blade in her hand ‘Cut me again. Now. Deeper this time.’

Again she pressed the blade, this time against his upper arm, slicing into his flesh and cutting the templar, who revealed a pleasured curl on his lips. Crimson trickled fast from the wound and down his arm.

‘Again.’ ordered Cullen darkly.

Leliana hesitated and the templar wrapped his hand around the belt at her throat.

‘I gave you an order.’ he said angrily.

‘Yes Sir.’ she replied, taking the blade to his other arm and cutting him swiftly at the elbow. The spymaster bestowed several more cuts across his back and buttocks, the Commander relishing the pain as his cock grew harder and harder, swelling to a magnificent erection.

‘On your knees.’ he ordered, snapping his fingers sharply. ‘Eye’s down, lest you be punished.’ warned Cullen.

His large hands scooped up her ginger hair, drawing her closer to him. He ran his cock across her cheeks, nose, forehead and chin. Leliana kept her eyes lowered, knowing what Cullen wanted. A subservient that allowed him to do what he pleased for his own gratification. There would be no touching unless he told her to. There would be no speaking unless he asked her a question. There would be nothing unless Cullen said otherwise.

‘Open your mouth.’ he ordered ‘Take me in with your lips.’

Opening her lips, she allowed Cullen to guide his silky hard member into her mouth. He plunged deep, and she met him with her tongue, eager to taste his head, swirling along his phallus. Cullen withdrew sharply, slapping her across the face. Not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to send a warning.

‘Did I say you could use your tongue?’ he asked sternly, pulling the belt towards him. Leliana gasped as the belt restricted her breathing, lowering her eyes once more. Her head bowed even lower than before, to conceal the excited smile on her lips.

‘No Sir. Forgive me.’

‘Then let us do this again. Take in my cock, but only use your lips.’

Pulling her mouth over his cock, he pushed in firmly until he hit the back of her throat and she was gagging. The Commander loosened his grip as he pulled away, leaving Leliana gasping for air and smirk on her lips. A few seconds later, he commenced to plunge into her mouth again. The man groaned as he felt himself go deeper. He closed his eyes in pleasure, savouring the sensation as his cock swelled in her throat.

‘That’s it, good girl.’ he encouraged, holding his grip firm ‘Open your throat for me, take me in deep. You know how I like it.’

Leliana’s lips pressed against his ball sack, his cock deep in her throat, she held him for several seconds before her reflex set it and she pulled away. Coughing, and gasping for air, she blinked away several tears.

‘Thank me.’ ordered Cullen sternly.

‘Thank you Sir.’ she replied.

‘You’re welcome.’ growled Cullen. He stroked her face, lowering his head to place a gently kiss on her cheek. ‘Now you may use your tongue if you like.’ he whispered.

Once more Cullen pulled her delicate mouth onto his cock, holding her deep until she started choking, pulling Leliana off as she gasped for breath.

‘Thank you Sir.’ she spluttered.

‘Good.’ encouraged Cullen, his voice drenched in a hazy lustfulness ‘Now again.’

Cullen continued the perverted game of deep throating Leliana with his cock, each time groaning loudly as she took him fully in. Holding her hair firm in his fists, he fucked her mouth with his hardness, losing control and forgetting who or what he was fucking. His amber eyes glossing over as he pleasured himself, lost in his lust.

‘Shall I come in your throat?’ he asked huskily, holding her tight against his ball sack before releasing again.

‘Yes Sir, if that is your wish.’ she replied. Her eyes were filled will desire, looking up at him ‘Unless you wish to fuck me first?’

‘Did I say you could ask me questions?’ he replied sternly.

‘I’m sorry Sir.’

Roughly he grabbed her, pulling the spymaster onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. Running his rough hands over her arse, Cullen planted a heavy smack on her cheeks with all his might. Leliana refused to cry out, she knew the game and she knew it well. Each painful moment would be relished, and there would be no protesting. There would be no mercy. No crying out in pain. For Cullen’s pleasure, she had to take the punishment he inflicted and not say a word. For her pleasure, she had to silently hope he would take her to her limits. He would never cross them. Her trust now was in his powerful hands.

The templar slapped her cheeks again, sounding a loud crack, continuing with a brutal force as he put all his stamina into the hits. There was no easing her in. The beating of her arse was savage and relentless, and even when her skin had transformed into a bright red the man showed no signs of relenting.

‘You need to be punished severely.” informed Cullen as he continued to slap her cheeks and thighs.

‘I know I do, thank you Sir.’ replied Leliana swiftly, relishing the pain.

Running his hands over her buttocks, Cullen let his thumb trail lightly over her exposed mons. Cullen felt his dick twinge as Leliana mewed at his touch. It had been years since he had plunged into that sweet cake, and he was ravenous. Something had filled him with a lust he had not felt for a long time, and there was something about being with Leliana that made him forget.

‘He showed me your death. Imshael, that is.’ murmured Cullen, stroking her clit lightly ‘You were writhing, similar as you are now.’. The templar watched as she squirmed on his lap as he began to pleasure her sensitive nub, playing with her until she was moaning deep in her chest.

‘Please may I come Sir.’ begged Leliana, raising her hips to encourage his fingers to continue.

‘No.’ replied Cullen shortly.

The templar lowered his head, placing a kiss on her splayed labia. She pushed against his lap, whimpering as he began to lick her clit, teasing her with his tongue that stroked her up and down, bringing her to the brink of no return.

‘Please may I come master.’ she pleaded breathlessly, her face growing crimson as she lay still over his lap.

‘You can hold on a little longer.’ remarked Cullen, a sinister smile on his face as he relished the torture he was inflicting.

Leliana had caught her breath in her chest, refusing to breathe as she willed herself to not submit to the release she craved. Cullen lowered his mouth to her cunt, eager to pleasure her more and deny her even more. Her whimpers turned into cries, the bliss now becoming painful the longer she was refused. Her legs quivered as she felt Cullen eagerly lapping at her with no intention of stopping. The moistness of his tongue, his strong fingers pressing hard into her thighs, teasing her, was sending her wild.

Suddenly Cullen stopped once more, leaving her breathlessly on the brink. Slowly he sunk two fingers into her wet cunt and began to fuck her, his lips locking onto her clit once more.

Leliana cried out. ‘Please Cullen.’ she begged.

The templar clenched his jaw, pulling away. ‘I was helpless to save you as you were tortured right before me over and over and over again…’

Cullen suddenly lifted her off his lap, scooping her up in his strong arms as he made his way to the bed, gently lying her on the sheets. Crawling over her, he kissed her on the mouth as he eased his hard cock between her wet velvet mons, slowly but firmly pushing into her until he was deep inside. Their soft cries silenced as he placed his lips on hers again, kissing her passionately, deeply exploring her mouth as he began to thrust slowly into her. Leliana breathed in deep, so close to the edge that every stroke was too much to handle.

‘The things they did to you Leliana.’ Cullen shuddered, thrusting harder into her ‘The images disgust me. Of things that could be done to you, so horrific and unspeakable.’

Leliana moaned, drawing her hands through Cullen’s amber curls. ‘It wasn’t real.’ she whispered ‘None of what you saw was real.’

Cullen hands and body suddenly began to shake, his body violently trembling out of shock rather than pleasure. Leliana held him tighter, wrapping her arms around his back. ‘It’s okay.’ she whispered ‘Focus on this, not what happened. Pour everything you are feeling into this moment.’

The templar lowered his mouth to her collarbone and began to ravage her with hard kisses, his hips bucking forcefully up against her as he drove his rock hard cock deep into her cunt. The thrusts were savage and hard, causing Leliana and Cullen to cry out each time he fucked her to the hilt. Pulling her hands up, he used his strength to pin them over her head, binding her helpless as he began to fuck her harder and harder, unable to stop this inevitable crashing wave.

‘Come.’ he grunted, growing red as he furiously rutted her.

Madness in his eyes, a delirium in his mind. He was exactly in the moment he wanted to be in, and he would savour it until the very end.

Leliana cried out, succumbing to Cullen as he filled her belly deep with his seed. Roaring loudly, a guttural cry of pain and pleasure, Cullen continued to thrust, spurting again and again, consumed with the ecstasy that made everything else fade away…..


	67. The White Rose

For most people it was difficult living in a keep so isolated from the rest of Thedas, perched in a barren mountain peak bordering Ferelden and Orlais. The animals raised grew smaller in size, and nothing grew in the colder months except for the hardy Snow Apple and Skirret Root. While the folk of Ferelden carried far happier dispositions on their sun burned lands, and the Orlesians enjoyed the warm dry heat coming off the Western Approach, the people of Skyhold gritted their teeth and carried on. Yet these men and women, whose hearts were sturdy as their intent, managed as best they could. As winter drew upon them the days were spent diligently working, if only to keep the chill at bay. For several weeks now the dismal grey clouds had refused to reveal a sun beyond, and consequentially Skyhold had been cloaked in that was beginning to feel more ominous than mere overcast days.

Whispers of Corypheus and his alliance with demons were entertained by growing numbers, as word of Commander Cullen’s encounter with Imshael had spread like wildfire. However instead of fear being met with fear, moral seemed to be boosted significantly the moment that they witnessed Commander Cullen ride through the gates of Skyhold in his triumphant return. The stories began to grow bigger and seemingly less accurate; of Jowan and Cullen battling a terrifying red eyed demon as big as the Kinloch Hold itself and as strong as seven of the King’s armies. The details were skewed in regards to Jowan’s part in rescuing Cullen, despite the mage confirming he had turned the creature to stone, but in the end the actual facts mattered little. The outcome was all that counted. Their Commander had returned as a victorious hero, unscathed and stronger than ever.

Or so they thought….

For three months since the return of Cullen, the dynamic of Skyhold had changed. Spirits soared, however one had to only travel to the depths of the keep at Skyhold to grasp a better understanding of the real reason to why this was. It was there that those intoxicated souls danced in the shadows of debauchery. It was there that a murky pit of destruction had begun to manifest like a festering wound.

In the cellars under the Main Hall, the Commander and many of his soldiers had transformed the abandoned rooms into a den of late night cards, entertainment and drinking. Initially it had been suggested by Cullen as a reward for the great efforts of the ranks in the former months. A haven for the men and women who were seeking a little downtime. A place for a little tipple and a wee flutter, nothing more. The idea was met with delight, and the soldiers relished the prospect of an escape from an otherwise bleak reality.

Several wooden tables, half a dozen pack of cards and some lively jigs played by the occasional fiddler was all that was needed to start up the venture. Soon the soldiers flocked, as did quite a few mages and other residents of the keep, all eager to enjoy in a late night wager. Naturally the Commander partook in the festivities with a surprising but welcomed enthusiasm. He gambled and drank and conversed with the troops, winning considerable favour within the ranks who now held him in even greater esteem.

It wasn’t too long after that that Varric clued on that there was profit to be had. With the guile and sneak that only a rogue could muster, the dwarf brought in some associates from Ferelden to help transform the abandoned den into the most welcoming tavern imaginable. Upon the once bleak stone walls of the cellars now hung finely embroidered red tapestries and paintings of ships on the sea. A fine polished walnut wooden bar sat in the corner of the room, selling questionable liquor made in places no one had ever heard or cared to ever travel to. Sulphur Point Burning Bitters. The Weathered Pass Whistling Whiskey. Sundarin Salty Schnapps. Boeric Ocean Pirate Booze. All were drunk in copious amounts from large wooden pints, stamped with the seal of C&B. The Cock and Bull Tavern.

The patrons of Skyhold were deep in their drink that night, sitting around the sturdy oak tables filling the room. A shabby pirate playing a banjo by the roaring fire sang off-key sea shanties to the soldiers, who merrily clapped their hands and stamped their feet to the lively songs. Several mages were entertaining a game of darts at the far side of the tavern, whilst at the other end there was a large group gathered around a few travellers that had brought with them news and juicy gossip from around Thedas. In the middle of the room, several tables entertained games of cards, and it was here that one intense game was being played.

A steely eye on the cards before him, he took a few moments to assess the situation at hand. To fold would have been the smarter thing to do, the sensible thing, but that state of mind had departed a few hours ago. Grabbing a flagon of ale in his hand, Cullen took a large swig of the frothy wheat coloured liquid before moving his hand to a pile of coins. He threw in two gold pieces, holding a stern face as he waited for the remainder of the table to place their bets.

Stroking his flame orange moustache for several moments in contemplation, Harrit finally cursed and folded. ‘I’m not going up against that.’ scorned the blacksmith, clicking his fingers to get another ale brought to the table. ‘I used to play cards with a man just like you back in Lothering. A drover he was, strong and silent type. Spent a lot of time on the road so he got to know the cards right well. Buggered if I was going to win against the likes of him.’

‘It’s a gamble to go up against the Commander,’ chuckled the Iron Bull, pushing two gold pieces towards a pile in the middle of the table ‘but then life’s a gamble. I’m in.’

The Commander smirked at the comment, taking another sip of ale. ‘If life has the same odds of success that this game offers I’d say you’re all better off dead.’

Dorian sighed at the comment, examining his cards with a great deal of scrutiny. His eyes drew towards the templar, examining him with interest. ‘I know that look Commander.’ observed the Tevinter, swilling a cup of red wine in his hand.

‘Oh?’ remarked Cullen, amused at the observation.

The mage’s hazel eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. The one where you have a good hand and then sit back with a smirk on your face and wait for us all to inevitably lose.’

The Iron Bull looked unconvinced. ‘Dorian, you do realise that Cullen is in a perpetual state of smirking around the clock? It’s a technique. The Ben Hasrath teach a similar tactic to confuse the enemy when working undercover.’

Harrit downed his ale in one breath before pulling back, laughing uncontrollably. ‘Hahaha smirking Ben Hasrath! Now I’ve heard it all!’

Cullen continued to smirk at Dorian, and the mage looked back towards him with suspicious eyes but nevertheless, an entertained face.

‘And on that note, I fold.’ added Dorian, flinging his cards onto the table. Rolling his eyes at Cullen, he eased back into his chair and enjoyed a sip of wine. ‘Remind me again why I keep on playing your silly little games every second night of the week? I recall that I keep on losing.’

Krem grinned, raising the bet by three gold coins and holding his cards tight to his chest. The group groaned, and the Bull’s lieutenant grinned even wider.

‘Krem are you out of your mind?!’ exclaimed the Iron Bull ‘Dorian’s right, Cullen has the winning hand.’

Krem scoffed at the comment ‘Yeah and I’m a merchant prince.’. Chuckling, he gestured his thumb at the Commander ‘‘I’ve seen better blighters bluffing in Hossberg where they never even play cards.’

‘On the contrary, I find the best players to be the ones that know they shouldn’t be playing.’ pointed out Cullen calmly, drumming his fingers on the table patiently.

‘And some of the worst.’ grumbled Blackwall, folding gruffly beside the Iron Bull. ‘That’s a week wages I’ve lost tonight.’ he added sourly ‘Would have better chances winning if I just lit my money on fire’.

Matching Krem’s bet, Cullen knocked on the table. The Iron Bull folded with a grunt, and Krem nodded to Cullen. Revealing their hands at the same time, Krem produced the winning hand.

‘No fucking way!’ chuckled the Iron Bull ‘Krem, you’re one lucky bastard!’

The mercenary grinned, scooping up the coins from the pile and dragging them towards him. ‘Luck has nothing to do with it boss. All I know is I can read people pretty damn well.’

Cullen shrugged, grabbing his flagon to finish off the drink in several large gulps. ‘Such is life.’ he observed nonchalantly, raising to his feet ‘I need another drink.’

Dragging his feet to the well-polished wooden bar, heavily laden with numerous coloured bottles that most likely should never be consumed, Cullen waited as Varric poured some green liquid into tony goblets before a woman and two men. The dwarf chuckled heartily as the three patrons downed the liquor, grimacing in the aftermath in coughs and splutters and protests of how it burned. Turning to the Commander, Varric began to pleasantly wipe the bar with a cloth, a content look on his face.

‘You know,’ observed the rogue ‘I always thought I’d never be happy until I got my hands on The Hanged Man, but I gotta tell ya running this joint comes a close sweet second. We’re earning some good coin here Curly, you’re going to make a good cut this month.’

Cullen looked disinterested at the prospect of making money. His hand idly tapped the empty flagon. ‘Another one Varric.’ he muttered.

Varric ran his eyes in interest over the unenthused Commander. ‘Bad hand? You realise Dorian and Bull have half a deck between them up their sleeves?’

‘And yet they still lose.’ observed Cullen dryly.

The dwarf poured the templar a frothy ale, a grin on his face as he pushed it towards the man. ‘So you’re in good spirits tonight I see.’ teased Varric.

Grabbing the flagon, Cullen down the entire drink in a few large gulps. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, his eyes tiredly looking around the room until they locked onto a woman in the distance. One of the serving staff in the keep, he had admired her pretty features from afar several times in the last few weeks.

Varric frowned as he followed the line of vision. ‘How about another game of cards eh? I think I can take a break for a moment. Heck you never know, I might even let you win.’

Cullen shook his head, making his way towards the smiling woman ‘Another time Varric.’ he remarked casually ‘I have other matters to attend to.’

****

_Under moonlight we spin esoteric dreams,_   
_in a flaxen cobweb seed of life,_   
_casting turgid spells and cotton tufts,_   
_thin sterling strands of silver starlight._   
_Dreaming softly of moments never met,_   
_always lost, never found,_   
_slipping through fingertips ever so quick,_   
_until the cock crows to greet the sun._   
_Golden rays cover stale stodgy stupor,_   
_beckoning to hasten the dreary droll day,_   
_now to return to a feather down wonderland,_   
_to be alive once more as we now fade away..._

The monotonous grind of black pepper, acorn and thistle seed in the mortar and pestle was slowing sending my arm to sleep, pressing harder and harder to create a fine sandy texture. The woody aroma was pleasant, reminding me of when I was a child and used to play in the woods bordering our estate in the Free Marches. Not that the memory of my childhood was pleasant per se, but for some strange reason the memory of the scent was.

‘Inquisitor, the flasks are ready.’ announced a woman proudly, piling several bottles noisily on the table in clanks and chinks ‘What should we do now?’

Frowning, I cast my eyes around the work station in the mages tower at Skyhold. Even when I had been a mage at the Ostwick tower, never had there been a room so meticulously ordered, and so neat and well stocked to point of perfectionism. Every herb, root, feather, crystal, candle, scroll, root, poultice, mushroom cap and mineral had its proper place, abundant to the point of excessiveness. Every book imaginable related to magic were sorted in alphabetical order, neatly kept on strong bookshelves that revealed not a speck of dust. The potions and salves were potent, and overstocked. And the mages so well trained that I queried my required presence as the guild worked to a routine that ran like clockwork.

‘I’ll be damned if I can think of anything else to be done in here.’ I shrugged ‘Gather the mages to practice their Spirit Magic down in the lower courtyard. Make sure you focus on Dispel and Barrier spells today. Oh but try to stay away from the new soldier recruits, they are still a little traumatised from last week when Pip cast an ice wall at them by mistake.’

The mage nodded with a grin, gathering several mages with her before leaving the room in a blanket of silence. The expression on her face told me Pip had most likely intended for that to happen.

‘Finally some peace.’ I muttered, pinching the freshly ground powder into each of the flasks sitting on the table.

The last few months at Skyhold had been a trying time for more reasons than one. For the better part I had spent my time in Emprise du Lion with Blackwall, Solas and Sera, closing the rifts in the area. For weeks we scouted the icy terrain, fighting shades, wraiths and demons. To make matters worse we had stumbled across a breeding ground of high dragons, and found out the hard way that such creatures were near impossible to fight. It took the better part of a month to track and defeat a Hivernal and a Kaltenzahn, and even in our victory we rued the day we ever had stumbled across such terrifying creatures. Finally we returned to Skyhold, tired and aching from head to toe.

Sealing the last flask with a cork, I placed the glass bottles in neat rows in a cupboard, dusting my hands in approval that the alchemy work had been done for the day. The sound of heavy footsteps walking into the room distracted me, and with a grin I beheld who had finally returned to the keep.

‘You’re back!’ I remarked jovially, raising my arms in a wide welcome ‘And perfect timing for all the work is done. You managed that one well enough.’

Jowan threw me a small smile and a fatigued wave as he unclasped his black travelling coat, hanging it on the coat stand by the door.

‘If you’ve ever had the desire to venture to Kassel I would strongly advise that you do not.’ he remarked tiredly, making his way to the black cauldron hanging over the fireplace. Retrieving a cup from the mantelpiece and a pouch of herbs, Jowan sprinkled the mysterious green dried leaves into the cup before ladling the hot water from the pot into it. He eased onto the stool before the fire and stared deeply into the flames. It was apparent that something was not right and the man was more than a little troubled.

‘What happened in Kassel?’ I asked precariously, moving closer to the mage ‘Was there some difficulty in your travels?’

Jowan waved his hand at the question, unwilling to answer it. ‘I had thought my heinous days were over but now I have come to see that they have only just begun.’ he informed softly, taking a sip of the hot tea. ‘Life has an ironic sense of humour and yet today I am not laughing. Not one bit.’

All too well did I understand what Jowan was implying. The role of the Left Hand was not one of intentions and acts of a person who had a clear conscious. In fact I couldn’t have conjured up a worse roll for Jowan to serve in if I had tried. It was unfair, after all that he had been through and the great effort he had made to change his ways, to end up being forced to continue down that destructive path. Whatever reason Jowan had been sent to Kassel for, it most likely was drenched in blood.

‘It can’t be easy doing what you do.’ I observed quietly ‘No one would judge you for performing such deeds, Jowan. It is not freewill that makes you act out these jobs, rather duty, and surely there is honour in serving the Divine in that capacity?’. I bit my lip, completely unconvinced at that statement. There was no honour in serving someone like Leliana. There was no honour in any of it.

The mage chuckled bitterly, sipping his tea in silence for several moments. Finally he turned to me, his black eyes deep as millponds. ‘You need not sugar coat it Ophelia, I am well aware of the dishonour in it. Come, say it as it is! All that I am is glorified shadow agent. Unknown to all, for I am cloaked in secrets. Free to run my blade red, for all that I do is absolved.’. Jowan shook his head in displeasure, holding my attention with a sharp finger. ‘If there is a god then tell me how he can excuse death if it is committed in his name? What miserly egomaniac of a deity would that be? The Maker would be nothing more than a self-serving monster, and we his half-witted pawns. It makes you beg the question, are he and Corypheus one and same?’. Jowan paused in contemplation before nodding, as if he had reached the only plausible answer. ‘I will tell you what happened in Kassel but do you truly wish to know?’ he asked seriously ‘Would it make it easier to know what I do when I am ordered away from the keep? Would it ease either of our minds for you to comprehend of what I am capable of doing, and what your Spymaster expects of me behind closed doors?’

Shaking my head, I looked at the man sadly. ‘I’m sorry Jowan, I wish you didn’t have to work for her.’

‘As the Maker wills it, so shall it be.’ replied Jowan bitterly, staring back into the glowing embers ‘Who are we to argue with that?’

Knowing the man needed some time to himself, I patted my friend sympathetically on the shoulder before leaving the tower swiftly. Pulling my arms across my chest, I battled my way across the keep as the icy winds from the ranges came roaring across the battlements. Through squinted eyes of raging sleet I managed to make it to the closest room, thanking the Maker I was not hurtled off the fortification. It was there that I decided to wait out the blizzard for a few minutes. Looking out the window I could see nothing except a soft light glowing from a room further across the battlements. It was one that I knew all too well.

Pursing my lips, I turned away abruptly and lowered myself on the hard ground of the dusty abandoned room, trying to ignore the growing heaviness in my stomach.

It had been several months since Jowan had defeated Imshael, and Cullen had returned to Skyhold, riding through the gates with Leliana that warm autumn afternoon. I was elated that Cullen was safe and alive, despite Jowan’s reassurances that he was, and had waited eagerly for the Commander’s return. And return he did. Yet I soon realised the man that had returned was not the one that had left. Disinterested in my company, I was greeted with a cold shoulder as he departed towards his study. Naturally he had behaved like this at times in the past, but this time there was something more to it. Cullen was different.

That had been the way it had been ever since.

Initially I tried to justify it. To excuse it. To rationalise any bad temper as a result of an unexplainable horrific experience that Cullen had endured at the Kinloch Hold. Who wouldn’t be silent, angry and unwilling to entertain? Then however I noticed that his foul temperament was reserved only for me. Indeed he smiled and chatted with a fair few people as the weeks went by, particularly the Spymaster. I wasn’t a fool, I knew the pair better than to think it was a mere plutonic friendship. Perhaps it didn’t bother me as much compared to Cullen’s indifference to me all together. His malice. His apparent hatred of me. Of course I knew he would be angry with me. I was the reason he was taken by Imshael. I was the reason he and I were no longer together. Yet his anger was personal and that was something that I could never handle all too well.

Such actions left me feeling empty inside but in the end there was little I could do. Try as I had to speak to Cullen, he soon made it clear that he was disinterested in having anything to do with me. And so I stayed out his way, and he mine, and that was the way it had been ever since.

The wind had settled for a moment outside, and without hesitation I swung open the door and headed out into rain. It didn’t matter that it was pouring because in all honesty, nothing really bothered me anymore.

****

Clicking her fingers sharply, Vienne demanded the attention of the group. She cleared her throat with a loud ahem and waited with an expression on her face that dared someone to speak over her. Consequently, the room fell silent.

‘Now my dears, I want to make this as brief as possible,’ began Vivienne ‘and while I’m at it, no this is not up for debate. Or negotiation. Or threats of any kind. I will tell you once and you will smile and nod and say yes Ambassador.’

Gathered in the War Room, the council as usual looked utterly unenthused to be there. Michel, Varric, Cassandra and I were sitting at the table, while Leliana and Cullen kept close to the window, standing ever watchful from afar.

‘Well let me be the first to say I had nothing to do with it.’ replied Varric defensively, holding his hands in the air ‘Cabot is paranoid someone is stealing his customers, but the ravings of a bartender one nug short of casserole can’t be taken seriously. Surely?’. Varric threw desperate eyes around the room, realising no one was believing his protest. Nudging his thumb towards Cullen, Varric added swiftly ‘Okay if you wanna know who planted the seed then I’d be focusing your attention over there.’

Cullen scoffed at the comment, amused at Varric’s fearful response. ‘Alistair’s inauguration is my doing, is it? How ever did I manage that?’

Realising Vivienne had not come to speak about The Cock and Bull, Varric looked relieved, if not a little peaky in the aftermath.

‘Indeed.’ nodded Vienne ‘That is why you are all here. We set out to Denerim in three days to bear witness to the glorious event that is King Alistair’s ascension to the Throne of Ferelden.’

There were some impatient mutterings from where the Spymaster and the Commander stood, both looking utterly unenthused with the prospect. Even Cassandra looked glum at the idea, and sighed heavily.

Varric slumped casually in his chair. ‘Well heck Iron Lady, you know I’d love to go but this spymaster gig has got me spent. Too much work to tackle, way too much to ever contemplate going.’

Vivienne pointed sharply at the dwarf. ‘You are going, my dear.’

Varric sighed, as if he agreed wholeheartedly but it was out of his control. ‘If it were any other time you know I’d be there in a flash. I mean, no offence, but some of us have important business here, we can’t all just up and go to Denerim whenever you say so.’

‘You’ve had an ample amount of time to prepare for this.’ quipped the Ambassador sharply ‘The inauguration was postponed while the fire damage in Denerim was being repaired, and I have received word that the ceremony is confirmed to occur in nine days from today. That means..’. Vivienne sharply withdrew a parchment from her board and began to read from it. ‘…Ophelia, Cassandra, Cullen, Varric, Michel, Leliana, Blackwall and myself have all confirmed that they will be attending the official ceremony.’

Mutterings of protest sounded around the room. It was true that the ceremony had been unexpectedly postponed when a rather large fire from a marketplace bakery house ravaged the city a few months prior. While no lives had been lost, it was said that a quarter of the city had been severely damaged and reparations had been going on ever since.

‘Now hang on right there.’ interjected Cullen ‘I can safely say that I never confirmed that I would attend. More to the point, I have better things to do with my time than see that twit take the throne.’

Leliana shrugged ‘And needless to say Alistair wants me dead, so that hardly makes it enticing to attend.’

Varric nodded, eager to join the bandwagon. ‘And I’m all for supporting my friends here by not attending. You know….outta respect.’

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed onto the rogue as he grinned uneasily. ‘That, Varric, is cock and bull.’ she observed crisply ‘We all know your only concern is that grubby little bar that you are running at the bottom of the keep.’

Varric pretended to look insulted. ‘Seeker please! I would never be involved in anything like-’

‘Varric that reminds me, Dryn’s cargo of Kirkwall cheese arrived this morning.’ I interrupted ‘I told the delivery man to leave it in The Cock and Bull’s larder.’

Michel chuckled as Varric grimaced from the sharp glare that Cassandra was now throwing him.

‘Remind me to kill you later Sparrow.’ muttered Varric ‘But thanks for the cheese.’

‘If I have to go then so do you.’ I grinned ‘And you’re welcome.’

Michel shrugged, looking around the room innocently. ‘Am I the only one looking forward to it?’ he asked curiously ‘An inauguration of a Ferelden King sounds like a wonderful event.’

‘Quite right my darling,’ agreed Vivienne ‘we Orlesians know a promising soiree when one is presented. The finest food and wine will be served, even if it is only Ferelden cuisine. The crème de la crème of society will be there, again with the same disclaimer naturally…but oh, it will be wonderful entertainment to see a crowning of a monarch. And Alistair is such a beau, I am simply giddy with anticipation as to what he will be wearing on the day.’

‘Entertainment is an apt word.’ muttered Cullen dryly ‘If I want to see a man dressed in tights and a fool’s hat I’d go hire a jester.’

Vivienne pointed a sharp finger at the templar ‘Commander you can moan and complain all you want, but I have already previously explained why you of all people must attend. You will attend.’

The Commander rolled his eyes and Leliana grinned, entertained if nothing else.

‘Vivienne you must see why Cullen and I would rather not attend.’ pointed out the Spymaster ‘There is a high chance our meals will be poisoned or an assassin will meet our acquaintance down some dark passage. Do you really want to risk the lives of two council members just to appease formal expectations?’

The enchanter yawned, as if she wasn’t’ in the slightest bit concerned. ‘Leliana, my darling, you have the best bodyguards in Thedas at your side wherever you go. There is no way Alistair could arrange your death even if he tried. And Cullen thankfully falls under that blanket of protection being your Right Hand, so the matter is resolved. You both will attend.’

‘Then it is agreed, we shall all depart for Denerim in three days at dawn.’ confirmed Cassandra, rising from the table ‘I encourage you all to finish up any pressing matters before we leave. Now if that is all, I have work to do.’

****

When I was a mage living in the circle tower, I had met a man once. A well-read mage whose knowledge of the healing arts could fill libraries the size of mountains. His hands cured and it was a gift few could boast. A magnificent gift that could have either boosted the ego or respectfully humbled it, he choose the former path, convinced that his palms were the only worthy pair. As I lay before him in sickness he would look at me with judgement, shortly telling me of my faults. With a smugness that only the healthy entertain, he would lecture me and berate me with a smile on his lips, telling me that my reason for being unwell was a reflection on my thoughts and actions. ‘Ophelia.’ he would say ‘the world is for our pleasure. We are here to enjoy the fruits and not be concerned about the rest. Your mind is filled with worry and concern, burden by the woes around you. That is why you are sick.’

Upon hearing these words this great man, this gifted man, diminished before my very eyes. His self-serving words chilled me to the bone, and a vision came to mind. I saw the ripe fruit that he yanked from the tree of entitlement, its branches shaking as the leaves fell to the ground like tears. His indignant claim somehow justified the raping of that bountiful tree, until it was left stripped barren. All the fruit was his and it rotted in his ambivalent hands as he slithered away.

As talented as that man had been, whose knowledge towered over all, he had been failed on the most basic of levels of humanity. At the core of compassion, he was riddled with sickness. For I knew the truth that he did not. That the world was not for the sole selfish pleasure of oneself. To believe in the notion that turning an eye from injustice, suffering and death would render life more sweet was nothing more than blissful ignorance. Selfishness. Narcissism.

The world was not mine or his. It was for us all. And I knew that if we did not care for others, no one would care for us.

Placing my quill down, I looked over the entry with a frown. There was a terrible itch on my mind but I couldn’t place a finger on it.

The chamber door groaned loudly as it opened, and in came a bleary eyed Chevalier already tiredly unfastening his gauntlets. Noticing me sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, he threw me a weary smile.

‘You look exhausted.’ I chuckled ‘New recruits causing trouble?’

‘Chaos.’ he replied, decidedly defeated. Easing his breast plate off, Michel winced in pain, placing a precarious hand on a tender spot on his ribs. ‘We were practicing siege tactics and several new soldiers had a little trouble figuring out which way to move the battering ram.’

‘Forward is generally the traditional approach?’ I pointed out with a smirk.

‘And yet backwards they went,’ replied Michel, grabbing his hair in pretend frustration ‘and sometimes even sideways! How is that even possible? I’ve been praying for sunset to arrive since midday.’

Making his way towards me, Michel seemed eager to find something on the desk, rummaging through a pile of rosters covered in blotchy ink. Finally he retrieved a letter tucked neatly away, and held it tightly in his hand. His face brightened upon finding it, and he turned to me happily.

‘This arrived today.’ he announced ‘It is from the Comte de Chalons.’

‘Your uncle finally contacted you!’ I exclaimed in surprise ‘After all this time?’

Michel looked pleased, a small smile on his lips as he beheld the elegant white parchment with perfect cursive writing. ‘Whatever shock you are feeling, I am feeling three times over. Some small part of me doubted that being pardoned by Emperor Gaspard and having my honour restored would be enough to win back my uncle’s favour. However here it is. He’s sent a formal invitation to have brunch at his estate in Val Chevin.’. The Chevalier shrugged ‘I can only presume this is a sign that he wishes for me to be in his life once more?’

‘Are you going to go?’ I frowned ‘After he cut all ties from you for all these years there must be an inkling of reproach on your behalf?’

Michel looked surprise at my sentiments, as if the thought had not even crossed his mind. ‘What reproach? In my uncles eyes I was dishonourable, what else could he have done?’

‘Oh I don’t know, how about telling you that he loves you and supports you and will stand by you no matter what.’ I replied dryly ‘As opposed to sending back all your letters with a declaration that he does not associate with traitors of the Crown?’

Michel looked irritated at the comment, turning to grab a chalice from the nearby table. Roughly he poured some water in it, sloshing drops over the sides. ‘Then you do not understand Orlesians very well.’ he replied stiffly, taking a large sip ‘Honour and family name means everything. It is everything.’

‘When will you go?’ I asked, unwilling to respond with what I really thought about Orlesian behaviour.

Michel threw me a smile. ‘You mean, when will we go?

The man caught me off-guard and I couldn’t help but look perplexed. ‘We?’ I echoed ‘No, no, no I am sorry but absolutely not! You’re right, I don’t understand Orlesians and certainly not nobility. I’ve heard the stories from Vivienne, there is no way your uncle would approve.’

Michel laughed, brushing a hand through his golden hair. ‘Oh Ophelia have you really forgotten that you are nobility yourself? The House of Trevelyan would be most welcomed by the Chalons. Perhaps you are not Orlesian nobility, but you are nobility none the less.’

Perhaps he meant well, but the very notion of me being tied to such a family made me angry. I threw the man a disapproving glare. ‘It may well be my name but I am not associated with those people on any other level.’ I replied coldly.

‘Your name and family are everything.’ refuted Michel ‘Whatever they have done to you, they are still your namesake. One day, who knows? Perhaps you will be able to reunite with them also?'

It was more than I could digest, and I stood up abruptly. ‘Have you lost your mind?’ I exclaimed in disbelief ‘After all this time you would think for a second that I would want anything to do with that pathetic excuse for a family then you do not know me one bit.’

‘That was not what I meant.’ replied Michel in annoyance ‘You have a real family. That is something that I was robbed of, so forgive me if I wish to keep the only one that I have!’

Unable to contain my disgust, I rolled my eyes. ‘At the expense of being treated less as a human being and more as a puppet of social standing, where love is bestowed accordingly?’

Michel slammed the cup on the table. ‘Are you purposely trying to be impertinent?’

‘Realistic.’ I corrected coldly ‘Perhaps you don’t understand normal people that aren’t pompous Orlesian nobility. We don’t all look upon mistreatment with indifference and self-blame.’

Michel groaned, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hand. ‘Such dramatics!’ he protested ‘You do realise you would fit in perfectly in the Orlesian Court?’

Unable to contain my amusement, I laughed at the comment. ‘Please Michel, it would be better if you reunited with your uncle alone. Find out where you both stand before introducing third parties. Considering my opinion on the matter, I couldn’t imagine why you would insist I come along.’

‘I would have you meet my family, that is not an unreasonable request.’ argued Michel, throwing the letter down on the desk ‘It’s the least you can do after all the nonsense I have had to put up with over the last year.’

‘Nonsense?’ I remarked icily ‘What nonsense would that be?’

‘Forget it. I thought you could be happy for me but it seems you are incapable of even that.’ replied Michel in annoyance ‘Forgive me, I think I shall take a turn in the gardens for a while.’

Heading for the door, he slammed it hard on the way out, the letter now lying discarded on the ground before my feet.

****

Swiftly she moved through the cloisters, the cool breeze of twilight feeling wonderful against the flush of her cheek. It was a moment of tranquillity, despite her two lingering guards that followed a distance behind. Their plate boots crunched heavily on the stone floor, a constant reminded she was never truly alone. However even that could not vex her at present. A smile on her lips, she was not bothered.

Reaching a white washed door at the corner of the square walkway, she knocked cheerfully on the weathered splintered frame and waited as the door finally opened. A pair of dark eyes looked out from an even darker room, tired and less cheerful than his guest’s.

‘Leliana,’ remarked Jowan curiously ‘Is everything alright?’

‘Everything is fine.’ she reassured ‘I had heard that you arrived back at the keep and merely wanted to see how things went.’

Jowan silently welcomed her in with a wide arm, and Leliana turned briefly to order her guards to wait outside before she entered into the mage’s chambers. Pressing the door firmly shut behind her, the spymaster breathed out a sigh of relief as she beheld the dim room. The curtains were drawn and it had looked as if Jowan had been sleeping, the sheets dishevelled on his bed. The mage moved over to several beeswax candles around the room, murmuring soft words under his breath as the wicks ignited.

‘I need to learn that trick,’ smirked Leliana ‘especially at the Grand Cathedral, it would save a lot of time with all those ridiculous candles.’

Jowan remained quiet as he continued to fill the room with a soft glow of light. Finally he returned to face his companion, unwilling to exchange small banter. ‘The job is done if that is what you came here for?’ informed Jowan flatly ‘All dead and made to look as if Sister Roberta was behind it.’

Leliana nodded, satisfied that the matter has been addressed. ‘I never doubted you for a moment.’ she confirmed. Tilting her head curiously, she couldn’t help but notice the frown on his brow and the glint of anger in his eye. ‘And yet you disapprove?’

The mage folded his arms crisply ‘Oh I don’t know Leliana, in between murdering an innocent husband and wife, and framing an innocent member of the Chantry, I couldn’t really tell you what I do approve of.’

Her eyes narrowed suddenly, the green glinting in anger. ‘Husband and wife? You were to silence the entire family. I gave you an order Jowan.’

Jowan scoffed at her anger, turning to take a seat by the fire. ‘Silence the family? Is that what we are calling it these days?’ he observed bluntly ‘Let me be crystal clear on this point Leliana, there are some lines even I will not cross. I knew if I had protested before I left, the son and daughter would now be dead.’

‘I can still arrange that.’ threatened Leliana, looking furious ‘You were supposed to kill them all. We need the act to be so abhorrent that the community will demand Sister Roberta’s death immediately. Her public disgrace and execution are the only way I can quash the rebels in the north.’

‘Trust me, it was abhorrent enough.’ muttered the mage ‘There was no need to end the lives of two siblings to add to the scene they would have encountered the next morning.’

Running her hands through her ginger hair, she looked wildly at her companion. ‘I am the Divine Jowan, and you are the Left Hand. Do you understand? You do as I say to the letter. That is the way it works.’

The mage eyeballed the woman, wanting to say more but deciding to bite his tongue. ‘Fine.’ replied Jowan crisply, adding somewhat disinterestedly ‘I hear you are leaving soon.’

Leliana nodded, pursing her lips in annoyance. ‘Yes. A party of the Inquisition leave in three days time for Denerim. Alistair is being crowned. You need to stay here.’

‘Rest assure I would not be volunteering to come face to face with the Arl of Denerim in this lifetime.’ scoffed Jowan ‘Knowing my luck I would be seated between him and Connor at the ceremony. No thank you.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’ muttered Leliana, rubbing her eyes with a wide yawn. ‘I should get some rest. Goodnight Jowan.’

Hesitating, the mage looked away before changing his mind. ‘Have you told him yet?’ asked Jowan quietly.

A pair of green eyes darted to the mage, her face completely shocked for a split second before she gained composure, her steely glare returning once more. ‘I don’t follow your meaning?’ frowned Leliana.

‘Lies and deceit, even to your Left Hand? You should really practice what you preach.’ yawned the mage. He nudged his head, looking squarely at her stomach ‘You are with child, are you not?’

Leliana remained quiet, a serious expression on her face as she silently analysed the mage.

‘Yes.’ she replied.

‘And it is Cullen’s I presume?’ inquired Jowan.

‘Who else’s would it be?’ Leliana replied sharply, drawing closer to the mage ‘Jowan I must have your silence on this. Have you told anyone? How did you even come to know of this? Spies? Magic? I must know how you came about this news Jowan.’

He rolled his eyes at the myriad of questions. ‘Rest assured I have neither the interest nor the reason to spy on you. And while we’re at it I don’t know of any magic that notifies one of babies, although I do know of this one way where you throw a horseshow on a full moons night and app-‘

‘Then how?’ asked Leliana more urgently, a fierce look in her fiery eyes. It was apparent she was furious that even she could not keep the most important secret she had to herself.

‘I was raised in a Chantry orphanage until I was thirteen.’ replied Jowan testily ‘There were many women from across Ferelden that came with secret pregnancies, sent by their families to ensure they had their babies and then left the infants with the Chantry before they returned to the outside world. No longer disgraced and free from burden.’. Jowan rubbed his eyes wearily ‘Believe me, I became well familiar of the tell-tale signs of expectant mothers.’

‘You were an orphan?’ remarked Leliana in surprise.

‘No I was raised in an orphanage, but I was no orphan.’ replied Jowan flatly ‘My parents relinquished all interest in raising me when I was three years old. Charming, isn’t it?’

‘Why would they do that?’ she frowned ‘Did you ever try finding them?’

‘No I never got the full explanation as to why they were a pitiful excuse for parents.’ replied Jowan ‘Even if I was a stickler for disappointment and decided to find them, I don’t even know my real family name. They are lost to me forever. How tragic.’

Leliana looked confused ‘I thought you said your family name was MacLothlorian?’

‘Not so.’ confirmed Jowan, rolling his eyes ‘The brothers in the Chantry gave me the name MacLothlorian because I used to spend all my time in the courtyard garden growing white roses. I had a knack for growing icebergs from cuttings. They said I had the greenest thumb in all of Ferelden, and consequentially I spent the better part of my childhood fearing my thumb had some strange fungal disease.’. A small curl revealed on his lips, obviously amused. ‘MacLothlorian was an old Ferelden word in the Fjorden tongue, meaning the white rose. The brothers thought it was befitting.’. Jowan pointed to Leliana, clicking his fingers suddenly ‘There! Right there!’

The Spymaster looked at him in confusion ‘What?’

‘Right there.’ repeated Jowan ‘Look at what your hand is doing.’

Subconsciously she was holding her stomach, her right hand placed lightly over her abdomen. Quickly Leliana withdrew her hand but it was too late. Jowan raised a brow.

‘After seeing you do that half a dozen times recently I suspected as much.’ pointed out the mage ‘Of course you’ve been yawning all the time too, which makes sense if you were with child.’

‘That could mean anything.’ argued Leliana ‘Bad food and being over worked, for example.’

‘Your sudden complaining about the awful stench coming from the stables.’ continued Jowan ‘I can assure you that smell has been around since I arrived here as Athalwolf, although if you were expecting your senses would smell it stronger than ever. And you’ve been craving hazelnuts, which are near impossible to source up here but since I was travelling to Kassel one of your attendants asked if I could bring back several bags. An odd request that points to only one answer.’

‘Fine,’ snapped Leliana ‘but I need you to keep this between us.’

‘Not planning on telling the father?’ asked Jowan cynically ‘That surprises me.’

‘Of course I am.’ she replied ‘The timing hasn’t been right. If you must know I was planning to tell him in Denerim.’

‘I suppose congratulations are in order.’ remarked Jowan, throwing her a small smile ‘I know how much you wanted this child.’

The Spymaster nodded ‘The Maker works in mysterious ways. I had all but given up on my dream, but perhaps that is when we should be paying the most attention.’

Jowan couldn’t help but look unconvinced and Leliana could see it.

‘I must take my leave.’ she added crisply ‘Goodnight Jowan.’ 

‘Sleep well Leliana.’ replied the mage, politely escorting her to the door.

Leaving the room, Leliana paced away back down the cloisters, not as spritely as before. The guards followed on silently and ever watchful, as the clank clank clank of their heavy footsteps commenced once more.

Caw…caw…caw

Her green eyes turned at the sound of a crow in the garden, perched upon a branch of a bush of white roses….

The White Rose.

With horror, Leliana looked down at her stomach.

‘What have I done.’ she whispered in fear.

Heart pounding in her chest, she knew. She knew. The courtyard in Lothering….her visions…MacLothlorian….the white rose….the resurrection of Jowan….

Her glossy eyes raced, unable to focus on anything and yet now seeing everything, as she began to see what had been there before her all along. The prophecy had been true but she had been wrong about the father. Cullen was not the one destined to sire the child of the prophecy. It had never been Cullen. Ever since her first vision, of a white rose in the courtyard at Lothering, it had been the Maker telling her. It was the white rose, that came to her in visions over and over and over again. That was the sign. The Maker had resurrected Jowan for he was the white rose. He was to sire the child of the prophecy.

I was walking through an ashen forest, the dreary mist at my feet as I walked on further, the shadows of the forest growing dense around me. I began to run as I beheld the darkness consume everything around me. I fell and the blackness drew me in. Shutting my eyes in fear, a voice encouraged me to open them. A voice so sweet that it was in the very air I breathed, in the sun shining above me, and vibrating from the ground below. I opened my eyes and I found myself in a peaceful clearing in the forest, dressed in the robes of the Divine. Before me was the rose bush from the Lothering Chantry, with one beautiful white rose blooming on it. And beside it stood you Cullen, dressed in the templar armour of the Knight-Commander, cradling a newborn child in your arms. He looked into its eyes with the love of a father, and tears fell from mine. The child was perfect. A voice whispered to me that the unborn chosen of the Maker will one day walk the realm and reign as ruler of Thedas.’

‘The father of the Maker’s chosen was that of the white rose.’ she whispered fearfully, falling to her knees ‘Cullen was holding the child but he was never the father of the child. I see it now. I can see it so clearly now….oh Maker forgive me why did I not see it.’

‘Your most holiness.’ called out the guards, running over to Leliana who sat crumpled on the ground ‘Is everything alright? Are you unwell?’

Sobbing, she clutched clumps of ginger hair, uncontrollable and inconsolable, pulling strands in fists of agony. The vision of the white rose had led her to the Maker, and he had resurrected the two people that would conceive his child. They were the parents of the prophet.

_Leliana and the White Rose._


	68. The Rag Tree

Arising before dawn, when night still urged one to remain asleep, the Inquisition party departed for Denerim to attend the crowning of the next Ferelden king. The journey was met with apprehension for several reasons, namely in regards to assassinations, and consequently an excessive number of Inquisition soldiers came along just in case, as did a large number of templars that were determined to protect their Divine should any trouble arise.

Riding alongside a few fellow mages for the first half of the day, we looked upon the templars riding further down the line of the entourage with a large degree of hostility. Free or not, there was no trust when any mage came face to face with a fully dressed templar. We knew what their duty was, and it was one that did not sit well with of our kind. Cullen, Cassandra and Leliana rode at the head of the line, the trio talking amongst each other and entirely unperturbed that a hoard of templars followed on. Behind them Michel led the soldiers of the Inquisition, and trailing at the back of the line I had spotted Varric, Vivienne and Blackwall deep in conversation that was most likely entertaining some questionable second hand gossip.

Riding down into the plains of Ferelden, we met a glorious winter day in the warmer southern lands. The skies were their usual bright blue and the roads were dry, making an easier ride. As the sun shone high over, the templars and the soldiers finally called to halt by the ruins of an old farm, eager to have a lunch break, and the large group dismounted. Between Leliana gathered around a group templars and Michel around the soldiers, I decided to remain in my saddle. Michel and I were still at odds, both of us refusing to see eye to eye in regards to his uncle, and the longer this anger between us continued the more annoyed I had grown. It appeared that the Orlesian Chevalier had not changed from his former days of honour and standing, and perhaps I was wrong to assume otherwise. Perhaps you could take the man out of Orlais nobility but you could never take Orlesian nobility out of the man? At a slow trot I decided to ride on and enjoy the surroundings while the rest of the group delved into their bread and salted ram.

‘Hey Sparrow,’ yelled out Varric, waving his hands above his head ‘didn’t you notice the army stopped?’

Turning back I could see several soldiers, including Michel, standing next to Varric, all curious as to what I was doing. I gave the rogue the thumbs up and kept on riding.

‘I’m just going ahead to the lookout at the crossroads.’ I yelled back ‘I’ll be right back.’

Turning my eyes to the empty road ahead, my mind was once more at ease. There was something about a dry dirt road in the middle of nowhere that put everything into perspective. The world slowed down and somehow it enabled me to catch up. And yet even that feeling soon passed as I heard a horse approaching from behind.

‘I’m fine.’ I called out, unwilling to entertain the unwanted company ‘You can go back and have your lunch. Honestly I’m not going far.’

‘The Inquisitor can’t go traipsing about the countryside by herself.’ informed a familiar deep voice ‘Ophelia you need to return to the group.’

In surprise I turned around to see Cullen riding up beside me on his black steed. The beast snorted as it stopped beside my horse, the midday sun blazing bright on its muscular shiny body.

‘It’s just over there, I don’t need an escort. I only wanted to see the heather moorlands at the crossroads up ahead.’ I explained hastily, in somewhat shock that Cullen was actually talking to me. Eager to hold on to the moment, I continued to ramble. ‘At this particular time of year the land is covered in this blanket of purple that looks quite spectacular. I overheard the locals call it purple winter, I think?’

‘Lilac snow.’ corrected Cullen, as if he knew all too well what I was referring to. The templar looked as if he was about to say something, turning his head back to the encampment, however he stopped himself at the last moment. ‘Fine, but make it quick.’ remarked Cullen tiredly.

He looked across at me, a flicker of a disapproving glance as he continued to ride alongside. The silence was unnerving. We passed a watermill with its giant waterwheel turning tiredly, and several fields of corn and sunflowers, glowing golden on the horizon. The Ferelden countryside was more beautiful than I had recalled and yet I felt uneasy with a man that refused to speak and soon I longed to turn around and return to the party once more.

As we continued to ride on ahead my attention drew to something in the distance on the side of the road. Something, to my surprise, that I had never seen before when travelling along this way in previous times.

‘Look.’ I remarked, pointing to a large yew tree in the distance. At least 50 foot high, its bark was a scaly dark reddish-brown, and held great twisted branches that rose high and low and reached wide across in all directions, covered in dark yellow leaves. Many of the branches were decorated with white, red and black material, flapping mysteriously in the breeze. ‘Whatever is going on there?’ I pondered.

Cullen’s amber eyes briefly edged towards the tree before returning back to the view before him on the road. ‘Looks like a rag tree.’ he muttered ‘Did you not have those in the Free Marches?’

‘If I did I would have been the last to know about it.’ I scoffed.

The Commander threw me an amused look. ‘No trees in the Ostwick tower?’ he asked.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. ‘Picture more mages, less rags. Unless you count our robes? Then there were more rags and less mages.’

Cullen silently chuckled, entertained by the comment and a little more at ease now as we continued to ride on slowly. ‘People believe that certain trees are portals to the realm of the otherkin.’ explained the templar. Noticing my baffled look, he added with a roll of his eyes ‘Kin not of this realm. Some people refer to them as the…fae.’

He stiffened in his saddle, holding the leather reins tight as I grinned at the man who was professing his belief in fairies.

‘Stop it Ophelia.’ he warned, flashing a smile ‘There are several trees just like this one scattered around Ferelden. They always stand at the edge of lake, or a small stream, or whatnot.’. Cullen narrowed his eyes, spotting a small pond beside the yew tree ‘Ah-hah there you are, just as I said! A tree by the water. Folk travel far and wide to come and tie clooties to the branches of a rag tree.’

I threw the man a confused look. ‘Clooties?’

‘A Ferelden name for rags.’ chuckled Cullen, shaking his head ‘I forget you didn’t grow up around these parts. White is for a wish, black is for a curse and red is for love. You tie a clootie of your colour and place a desire on it and it is said the otherkin will grant it.’

‘Well shouldn’t we be writing Corypheus’s name on a black clootie or something?’ I observed playfully ‘Wait here and I’ll get several yards of black fabric. We’ll make the biggest clootie ever!’

The templar chuckled, his amber eyes catching mine in amusement. ‘At this point I’m willing to try anything.’. He looked down at his leather satchel, a red cord securing it fast ‘Of course fates would have it I only have red material at hand.’

‘Could yield an amusing result?’ I observed, raising a brow.

‘Yes I can see it already,’ chortled Cullen ‘Corypheus surrenders to the Inquisition whilst declaring his undying affection. No, I don’t think I want to be tempting the fates with my red clootie by asking the otherkin to intervene where Corypheus is concerned.’

Now it was my turn to laugh, and Cullen looked entertained himself.

‘Besides,’ he added ‘I’ve yet to see my first clootie granted.’

‘You’ve tied a clootie then?’ I grinned ‘Cullen you surprise me, you don’t come across as the clootie type.’

The templar groaned, realising he had said too much. ‘I’ll never hear the end of this one. Forget I ever mentioned it.’

Refusing to drop it, I pressed the man. ‘Oh no no no! You cannot mention former clootie escapades and not elaborate. What was it for?’

Rubbing his shoulder he smiled a silent and knowing smile, as if privy to some fond memory. ‘I confess I was somewhat of a riddler as a child. One day I got my hands on a copy of Chiron’s Little Book of Aenigmas when winning a game of marbles against a boy in the village. I must have read that book back to front and front to back a thousand times over. In turn it came in my head that if the otherkin could grant a wish then I had better make good of it. Utter nonsense mind you, but I was determined they would look upon a riddle with great interest for its cryptic qualities.’

Throwing the man a curious smile, I nodded my head in encouragement ‘What was the riddle?’

He pondered the lines in his head, trying to remember them before turning to me. ‘Free to have but hard to keep. The poorest can obtain it while the richest try to buy it. You cannot live on it but it can give you a reason to live. You cannot live in it but it can live in your heart.’

I furrowed over the words for several moments, growing more and more confused. ‘Some exquisite Orlesian parasite?’ I chuckled.

‘No I didn’t know Michel de Chevin back then.’ retorted Cullen devilishly ‘Well? Do you give up?’. Cullen waited patiently, looking amused at my complete befuddlement. Finally he tapped his nose. ‘Happiness.’ he informed.

It was impressive that a child could muster such a riddle, let along wish for that when so many other mortal temptations could have been desired. Riches, a sword, or even a pile of sweets. But happiness? Did that mean he had never obtained it even as a child?

‘You must have been a very wise child.’ I observed ‘Were you not happy when you were younger?’

‘Happy? Yes. But I was aware of the unhappiness that surrounded me.’ pointed out Cullen ‘Life was hard for my parents, and the people of the village. They toiled throughout the year and worked exceptionally hard to keep food on the table. Life can be difficult when the rains don’t fall as they should, and the crops don’t yield a proper harvest. The villagers were hardy folk and humble, always grateful for what they had but there was no cheer in their eyes. You came to know that look when you grew up in those parts. Life was for living but not for enjoying. I saw that happiness was missing and hoped that when I grew up I would be different from the adults I knew.’

Cullen shrugged, returning his attention to the road ahead.

‘You said the otherkin never granted your clootie?’ I added, a little more reserved.

The Commander’s sprightliness faded from his face as he turned to me. ‘No Ophelia, it appears they didn’t.

Pulling my horse to a halt, I dismounted suddenly, making my way over to the side of Cullen’s steed.

The man looked a little perplexed. ‘Any reason we’ve stopped?’ he asked.

‘Can I have the red cord?’ I asked, holding out my hand.

The templar frowned, scouting the area with his eyes before dismounting. He untied the cord from his satchel and pressed it in my hand. ‘When my possessions fall out of my pack I’ll have you to blame.’ he warned playfully ‘There’ll be a trail breeches and socks from here to Denerim.’

Turning away from the man, I headed towards the tree, its large branches stretched outwards. Holding the red clootie in my hand, I filled it with my intention, so strong in my declaration that my heart felt as if it would beat out of my chest. Finally I lifted my hands and tied it three times over, secured fast on a lower branch before walking away.

If the otherkin were real then let it be so.

Cullen looked slightly amused as I returned, his hands folding across his chest. ‘Corypheus?’ he asked with a smirk.

Shaking my head, I was prepared to ignore the question. To ignore what I knew. But I had grown wary of ignorance. I had grown tired of false pretence.

Raising my eyes to his, I remained serious. ‘What happened to you in the Kinloch Hold? Something happened when you were in there and I need to know.’

His expression grew cold once more as he revealed a frown, irritated at the question more than anything.

‘What do you think happened?’ he muttered ‘I think it’s quite clear Imshael wasn’t entertaining me with tea and biscuits.’

‘I only meant-‘. Hesitating, I knew what to say but I no longer knew how to say it. So I decided to try my best. ‘Cullen, I miss you. And for three months now we’ve barely said two words to each other.’ I appealed, looking around the empty field ‘You were everything to me-‘

‘-and now I am nothing.’ added Cullen promptly.

‘That is not true.’ I replied adamantly ‘I was threatened by how close you and Leliana were. I didn’t like it, but I regret how everything turned out. How did we get here? After everything that we’ve been through, why are we strangers now? I’m sorry that I had to let you go. I’m sorry I was the person that caused you to go back into the Kinloch Hold to be tortured.’

Cullen grew quiet, his eyes turning away from mine. Anguish covered his face as he turned back. ‘I’ve warned you before, don’t take away my anger when it is all that I have.’

It was the anger that was his poison and I knew that better than anyone. ‘If I could take it away I would. You are a good man with a good heart.’

The templar scoffed at the comment, kicking the dry loose rocks under his feet. ‘Then you know nothing of me.’. Cullen cursed under his breath as a myriad of thoughts filled his mind. His amber eyes flashed angrily at me, confrontational and vicious. ‘Let me tell you how good I am? Since you left me I’ve fucked half the women in the keep. Laundry maids, kitchen hands, bar wenches, soldiers, mages. All of them gratifying me exquisitely.’

My jaw clenched, I refused to react.

Cullen smiled darkly, sensing my irritation. ‘Oh but it doesn’t stop there. There is one special woman who shares my bed almost every night. Do you want to know who?’

Flicking him a raised brow, I crossed my arms. ‘Who you sleep with is none of my concern Cullen.’

‘It’s ironic.’ continued Cullen ‘You always had this idea that Leliana and I were together, which was wrong. But the moment you and I separated, you couldn’t pry Leliana and I off each other. You know she really is an exquisite fuck, when all is said and done.’

‘Enough.’ I warned ‘I didn’t come here to fight.’. Flashing him a furious look, I decided to leave.

Cullen grabbed my arm, holding me back. ‘You want to know how good a man I am, Ophelia? I run a gaming den with Varric in the basement of Skyhold, preying on what little coin the poor plebs who go there have to gamble. We provide whores and hard liquor, and whatever the fuck you want. I gamble each night hoping a time will come when I can bet my filthy soul and lose it once and for all. Until that day I will drown my sorrows in wine and women. I will enjoy the little shivering wenches, just like you, passive and timid, that will allow me to enjoy whatever perversities I can think of. Deep down I loathe mages, and always will. There will be no mercy to magic, I detest the filthy practice and when the Inquisition is over I will make it my life’s duty to shove each and every one of you back into the tower where you belong.’

Raising my hands, I stepped a few paces back. Whoever the man I had been speaking to moments before, he had changed now into the monster before me.

‘What nonsense.’ I retorted sharply ‘I won’t pander to your misguided self-hate. You are free to fuck Leliana and whoever you want, to squalor your existence if that is your pleasure, but do not think to use your actions to deceive me as to who you really are. We can all misbehave without it defining us.’

The templar turned, making his way angrily to his horse before stopping once more. He turned around and returned to face me.

‘What did you ask for?’ he asked accusingly.

‘What?” I frowned.

‘The clootie.’ Cullen replied sternly ‘What did you ask for?’

He stood there, his amber waves of hair as dishevelled as his temperament, blazing armour as radiating as his anger, waiting for an answer I wasn’t sure whether to give.

‘Fine.’ I conceded, laughing bitterly as I prepared to divulge what I had tied to that tree ‘I wished that you and I would live happily ever after.’. Looking him square in the eye, I added bluntly ‘And before you laugh at me, know this; I meant every word and I don’t care what you say or how you feel about it. It was my clootie.’

The annoyance on his face suddenly melted away, his eyes darting away in embarrassment at the rant he had just made. If there was a cold cruel hearted man, it wasn’t Cullen. All that was before me was someone who felt more than his heart could manage. The Commander appeared relieved and a little more than sheepish as he stood there.

‘Nonsense,’ he murmured ‘that sounds like a fairy-tale.’

‘Then I’m certain they will listen.’ I retorted.

The man supressed a chuckle, revealing the smallest curl on his lip instead. ‘What of your chevalier?’ muttered Cullen ‘Where does he fit on this clootie of yours?’

I threw the Commander a defeated shrug before passing him, making my way to mount my horse once more. I knew deep down that Michel had very strong expectations of his respective partner, and I was beginning to see more and more each day that I did not fit into that proper role. That expected role. It mattered not. I was finished with this conversation with Cullen. The purple heather would have to wait for another day.

‘Ophelia…wait.’ called out Cullen. His armour rustled heavily as he joined me at my side, raising his hand to his heart as he looked at me apologetically. ‘What I said just then was as doltish as it comes. Maker knows I didn’t mean half of it, I just….’. He shook his head, running his hands through his hair ‘You do not need to be a mystic to know I’ve been hurting. It crashes upon me likes waves and all I wanted to do was lash out at the closest person here, namely you. There is no honour in it and a man should never do that. I am sorry. I will tell you what happened to me in the Kinloch Hold if you want?’

I waited silently and the man nodded.

‘Imshael tortured me.’ explained Cullen, a detachment revealing in his eyes ‘He showed me images of your death over and over again and it ripped my heart to shreds. I saw my parents being murdered before me. And of Leliana being tortured. It felt like years of pain being inflicted but I know that it was less than a day. Demons have a way of doing that. By the time Jowan had come and saved me it was already too late. He had broken me.’. The templar grew quiet. ‘I wanted to forget. I was desperate for it, and I didn’t care what I did. I didn’t care about the consequences.’

‘It should have been me.’ I replied remorsefully.

Cullen shook his head, his voice growing softer as he looked upon me. ‘No, don’t you see?’ he remarked ‘There are many regrets about what has happened, but my choice to take your place was not one of them. I could not have lived with myself had that demon taken you. I did what I knew in my heart was the right thing, but it hurts Ophelia. I hardly sleep anymore and when I do it is filled with visions of such horror that I fear what the human mind is capable of.’

‘But why do you ignore me?’ I appealed ‘Why have you met me with silence since you returned? I was certain that you hated me. You always make me think that Cullen, why?’

‘Because being acquaintances with you was not something I could live with.’ answered Cullen honestly ‘It is easier to hate you than to be on friendly terms while you are with him.’

‘Do you love her?’ I asked quietly, unable to look him in the eye for fear of the answer.

‘Do you love him?’ asked Cullen calmly in return.

I looked at the templar swiftly, and he nodded in understanding.

‘And yet I love you in a way that I could never love her or any other, and that is the way it has always been. I feel you in my thoughts and you speak to me without words. A connection that cannot break and yet that also pains me more than if we were strangers.’. Cullen sighed, his head bent in confession ‘Ophelia I love you completely and without question. Without regret, shame or remorse. I love you in the purest sense of the word. All my dark yearnings fade away when I am around you because all that I truly desire is you. Even when we are not together, those feelings never fade.’

‘All we do is hurt ourselves and all those around us.’ I observed sadly ‘No matter the path we take, still a heart will bleed. What is there to be done?’

Cupping my cheek, he looked at me sincerely. ‘There nothing left to it I suppose? We must hope the otherkin answer this clootie.’ he grinned, running an affectionate finger down my cheek.

Cullen and I exchanged a smile, relishing one moment together before we had to let each other go once more. With a small wink, Cullen proceeded to mount his horse.

‘Come on Ophelia.’ he called out ‘Denerim awaits and Maker knows how eager I am to get there.’


	69. A Theirin King

Poking his tongue to the side of his cheek, he fumbled with the soft goat leather gloves, pulling the delicate material over his large and coarse fingers. The gloves were too slender and refused to squeeze on. Shaking them off in agitation, he threw them onto the ground with a curse.

‘Why do I even need to wear these?’ protested Alistair ‘I’m the king, aren’t I? Well here is my first order then. Let it be known across the lands that the king isn’t required to wear silly white gloves.’

Teagan chuckled and Eamon sighed.

‘You’re not the king yet,’ warned Eamon ‘so put them on and stop complaining. Every coronation of a Ferelden king requires the appropriate royal vestments.’. Holding his hand out, the elderly man started to count on his fingers as he mentally checked off the list. ‘The Imperial Diadem holding the thirteen pearls of Vangarin, the royal globus cruciger, the royal golden sceptre, the Theirin ceremonial long sword, the monarch’s ceremonial red velvet robe and…’. He pointed to the ground where the discarded garments lay ‘…one pair of white gloves.’

With a clap of his hands, Teagan grinned at his nephew. ‘Alistair come now, never have I seen such a kingly king before my eyes! You have every cause to smile, gloves or no. But be a lad and just put the gloves on for your uncle’s sake.’

‘Fine.’ conceded Alistair, picking up the gloves once more and squeezing his hands into them. ‘Can we get this over with now? I never liked fuss and attention and I fear today is going to be one of those days.’

Teagan turned his attention to outside the window, looking out across the large courtyard at the Denerim Palace. He whistled in surprise as he scouted the area. ‘Will you look at that?’ he remarked ‘Alistair, come and see how many people have gathered to see you today!’

‘Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?’ pointed out Alistair with a small smile ‘That’s what the Chantry kept on telling me anyhow.’

‘You cannot ignore what is now before you.’ informed Eamon sagely ‘If a king turns a blind eye, he will rule blindly.’

‘Remind me again why I appointed you my regent?’ teased Alistair ‘I should have named someone who liked say; Yes Alistair! Anything you say Alistair!’

Arl Teagan slapped his knee in laughter before pointing at Eamon with a jeer. ‘Should have thought long and hard about that before you gave him the keys to your palace. You’ve gone and done it now, eh Alistair. My brother here is an expert at common sense and badgering. Excessive badgering.’

‘Well then I best start straight away.’ observed Eamon solemnly, turning to Alistair with a serious look. ‘It has been weighing on my mind for over a decade now so let me honest right now. I watched your brother Cailan reign without an heir and, my dear lad forgive me, I cannot see that happen again. You must face facts. You are the last Theirin alive and you need to change that.’

The templar looked uncomfortable at what Eamon was implying. ‘I know what you would say but-’ begun Alistair in protest.

‘No if, buts or maybes Alistair. You are king now.’ lectured Eamon ‘As great a position as it is, you must put your personal feelings aside for the sake of the kingdom.’

Teagan sighed, nodding his head in agreement. ‘He’s right Alistair, for the kingdom’s sake you need to produce an heir as soon as possible.’

‘Maker’s breath, did you give Cailan the same speech on his coronation?’ protested Alistair ‘I haven’t even got the crown on my head yet and you’re at me for wee little tackers. I can’t even keep a plant alive! And I’ve never even owned a Mabari!’

Eamon looked troubled. ‘That is where you are wrong, I did warn Cailan of this also. As the years passed by I desperately urged Cailan to rethink his choice of bride after Anora failed to produce an heir. It may have seemed harsh but look what eventually happened? Cailan died with no heir to take his place and Ferelden fell into disarray for over a decade. Can you imagine what would have happened if you were not alive, Alistair? Who would have taken the throne now? I fear to think what might have happened.’

‘Dramatics.’ dismissed Teagan ‘It would have most likely been you brother. However that being said, none of us hold the blood of kings except you Alistair. You must see reason. Eamon speaks the truth.’

Alistair looked disheartened. ‘Sierra is not even cold in the grave and you expect me to be considering marriage and children? I’m sorry, this is not something I can think about now.’

‘Naturally you should take all the time you want to grieve the loss of Sierra.’ agreed Eamon ‘But my lad, you know in your heart that you must move on. She would not have wanted you to remain alone for the rest of your days.’

‘You didn’t know Sierra then.’ scoffed Alistair. Sighing, he nodded. ‘I know, I know. Fine, the seed is planted. Let me think upon it for a while, that is all I can promise for now.’

‘Good lad.’ nodded Teagan.

Eamon chuckled, his arms held open wide as he embraced the young man proudly. ‘Yes good good! Now come my boy, it’s time to crown you the King of Ferelden.’

****

A vast crowd of finely dressed nobles gathered in the main hall at the Palace of Denerim, lining the aisle to catch a glimpse of Alistair Theirin walking down towards the head of the hall. His burgundy velvet robe trailed behind him majestically, and his reddish brown hair caught the light. The men and women whispered excitedly as they beheld him, remarking amongst each other how similar he looked to King Cailan, and for those that were old enough to remember, his father King Maric Theirin. Truly he was the rightful king that they had been waiting for all this time.

Alistair looked from side to side as he walked towards the head of the hall, catching the eye of many. Some familiar, but most not. Yet he knew now with certainty in his heart what he had feared in former years. That he had the blood of a king running through his veins and this was his destiny. These people were his people, and Alistair would spend the rest of his life serving them and his kingdom.

Between two magnificent stone fire places at the head of the hall, stairs led to a stone platform where an empty throne sat. Made of strong polished Ferelden red wood, a carved mabari stood guard on either side of the armrests and the back of the throne rose tall, with carvings of knots and eternal circles. 

Ascending the steps, his blue eyes met those of the Revered Mother, who waited patiently, ready to begin the coronation. Lowering himself onto one knee, Alistair bowed his head as the Revered Mother placed her hand above him and blessed the new king. Eyes to the ground, he knew everything would be different. Change was good, but he feared it nonetheless. Of a future unknown and with no one by his side.

Sierra was dead and the man responsible for that was watching him now in this very room….

His eyes darkened at the thought, but he knew that he would have his vengeance when the time was right. Sierra’s death would not go unpunished. Alistair would be a righteous king that stood for justice, and where better to start than to seek justice for the one he loved.

‘Arise now Alistair Theirin,’ called out the Revered Mother ‘stand now as our new exalted king.’

Alistair stood once more, the golden light of morning from the skylight filtering in onto the platform as if the Maker himself was bestowing his blessing. The crowd behind him began to clap and cheer in applause, and he turned to greet them with a smile on his face before retreating to the throne at the head of the hall. Although an eerie wave of calm had fallen over him during the ceremony, he could now feel his heart beating strong as he beheld that throne. This was the place where his father Maric had once sat, the mighty king. Maric the Saviour. Could he follow in the footsteps of his father? Did he even want to? All his life he had feared the man he had never known. Perhaps even hated him? For in his heart he oft wondered what sort of man bedded a castle maid only to cast her and the child aside in later days? Alistair never knew his mother, but he felt a great sadness for her. There was a loneliness in being hidden from the world out of disgrace, and that was something that they both had experienced at the expense of the man who had once sat on this very throne.

With a deep breath, Alistair stepped forward. He too would be a great king but he was not his father.

Seating himself on the throne, Alistair beheld the crowded hall of cheering men and women who stood before him with hope in their eyes. Distracting him with their loud clapping, he was surprised to find Arl Eamon now at his side, a crown of gold in his hand. An unexpected heaviness overwhelmed his head as the royal diadem was placed upon his brow. In his right white gloved hand the globus cruciger was placed, and in the left the golden sceptre. Across his lap the ceremonial sword was laid, its golden hilt glistening with encrusted rubies, emeralds and diamonds, which looked more like a treasure trove than an actual weapon.

‘Long live King Alistair Theirin.’ shouted Arl Eamon, turning to the crowd in the hall ‘Long live the King of Ferelden.’

The Knights of Ferelden saluted Alistair from either side of the platform. Ser Perth covered his hand across his breast plate and called out clearly ‘By our blades and our hearts, we serve and honour you until our last breath. Long live the king!’

‘Long live King Alistair Theirin.’ shouted Arl Eamon once more ‘Long live the King of Ferelden.’

The audience now repeated the words, strong and clearly, with pride in their voices.

‘Maker protect and bless the king.’ cried out Revered Mother ‘Long live the King of Ferelden.’

Once more, the men and women repeated the words, before breaking into a roar of applause. The ceremony was complete. A new era had begun, and once more a rightful Ferelden king now sat on the throne.

****

The coronation of Alistair had been an impressive affair, something of the likes that I myself had never seen. In fact it rather shamed my induction as Skyhold’s Inquisitor, but then again, I was no king. The people had come from far and wide to see their new ruler and I recognised several familiar faces including Arl Teagan, Ser Perth, Ser Bryant, Connor, and Emperor Gaspard, who was sporting an impressive pair of shoes with ten inch pointed toes.

Our Inquisition party watched on from afar and remained at the back of the hall, an appropriate position to be considering all things. Yet even from so far away from the throne, the jubilation in the room was obvious. The people were happy, truly happy, that Alistair was being crowned as their new king. After overhearing the same conversation over and over again, it appeared that the overwhelming consensus was of the opinion that only someone with Theirin blood was worthy of the role of king. It appeared that Anora had failed on this account and over the years that had left a bitterness with the people of Ferelden. Yes she had been a queen, being married to King Cailan Theirin, but she was not the rightful heir to the Ferelden throne. Anora’s blood was of that of Mac Tir, and in the people’s eyes she was nothing more than a stand in monarch and daughter of a traitor.

After the ceremony had ended the custom was to congratulate the new king and we waited, a little uneasily, as the king made his way through the flocking crowd. It was nearly an hour later before he reached the back of the hall where we stood. Standing proud and with a regal air that I had never noticed before, Alistair came over and warmly shook my hand.

‘Ophelia it is good to see you again.’ greeted Alistair ‘I thank the Inquisition for attending this occasion.’

‘Congratulations Your Majesty.’ I replied warmly ‘Truly I am very happy for you Alistair.’

‘Yes congratulations.’ smiled Michel, shaking Alistair’s hand affectionately ‘I was thinking about those evenings we spent after duty in the Western Approach, when you would speak of your former days. How you were raised in the Chantry for a while, only to become a templar and then a Grey Warden, but never a king. It brought to mind an old Orlesian proverb; One meets his destiny often on the road he takes to avoid it. It is rather inspiring I confess, as are you. I always knew you were destined for greatness.’

Alistair chuckled. ‘Yes, because playing cards against you clearly wasn’t going to get me anywhere, that’s for certain. From what I recall I still owe you five gold pieces from our days in Adamant.’

‘Seven, but we’ll call it even.’ corrected Michel pleasantly ‘Now I can say I bested a king in Wicked Grace. My life is complete.’

‘It suits you, Alistair.’ I observed, looking up at his magnificent crown ‘You certainly look the part.’

The merriment on his face diminished as his eyes suddenly drew behind me, where I knew Cullen and Leliana remained away from the party but still in clear sight. ‘I intend to play the part ever better,’ informed Alistair a little more seriously ‘that much I can assure you.’

Michel and I exchanged uneasy looks, knowing there was more sentiment behind those words. Thankfully Varric jumped in at that moment and began shaking Alistair’s arm off, before Vivienne fired questions about the cut and clarity of the diamonds in his crown.

‘My apologies, we will talk more later at the feast.’ replied Alistair politely, edging away from Vivienne. He passed by our group, pausing to throw a baleful look towards Cullen and Leliana, who glared sternly back at him. With an insincere smile, he nodded to the Spymaster and Commander. ‘Enjoy the banquet tonight. I suspect it will be a celebration you will never forget.’

As the king walked off, we all spun around to look at Leliana and Cullen. The pair muttered something under their breath, exchanging words between them before noticing our undivided attention.

‘What?’ remarked Leliana sharply.

‘Ahhh Nightingale, don’t suppose you know what Alistair meant by that?’ remarked Varric uneasily.

Crossing her arms, the Spymaster looked extremely irritated. ‘I suppose that means we should all get dressed for dinner then.’ she replied curtly, pushing past Varric and Blackwall as she made her way towards the entrance of the main hall.


	70. A Picnic With A Bluebird

After an evening of feasting on roasted boar, venison and crumbed fish, a ridiculous selection of hard and soft cheeses, glazed apples, roasted chestnuts, treacle tarts and sugared almonds, the night was now well underway. With bellies full and many tunics now unbuttoned at the waist, the special guests of King Alistair had gathered to the ballroom to dance the evening away.

Resting my arms against the banisters, I examined the ballroom floor with intrigue and perhaps a little concealed laughter. The men strutted tall, with chests puffed out proudly; whilst extravagantly dressed women sporting very high hair floated on their partner’s arms. All that swirling and turning and twisting and tapping and headache inducing pattern forming madness left me….mesmerised. There had to have been thirty dances danced already, each one with an array of different and awkward steps. How in the blazes did anyone remember the moves to so many dances?

‘Ma cherie, one dance.’ begged an Orlesian voice on the other side of the bannisters.

With a smile, Michel graciously came up to my side and place a kiss on my hand. Never a more elegant looking man had I laid eyes on. His light blonde hair was neatly tied back into a low ponytail and he was dressed in a snow white waistcoat and cream boots that laced at the front. No doubt it was the fashion of the Orlesians, for I also spotted several other gentlemen wearing the same style and colour.

Cheerfully Michel looked over to the orchestra that was currently playing a waltz. ‘I used to love this song when I was living in Orlais.’ he confessed ‘A Picnic with a Bluebird. Did you know the composer lived next door to me at my manor in Lapin? A wonderfully talented man who played more instruments than I could count. He would often say to me; life would not be as meaningful if one refused to dance. How true he was!’

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t see the logic. ‘That’s a little dramatic, surely? I’m certain life could be full of meaning without capering about.’

The Orlesian cupped my cheeks affectionately, kissing my cheek with a smile. ‘I shall make a dancer out of yet. One of these days, I promise. Until then-’

‘Ser Michel?’

Michel turned as someone called his name. Behind him stood an Orlesian woman wearing a beautiful blue gown. She approached the chevalier, her hand holding a large white feather fan that she waved towards him.

‘Ser Michel de Chevin! Is it really you? Mon dieu! After all this time, do you not even recognise me?’

Michel’s face broke into a wide beam as he rushed towards the woman, kissing her hand politely although it was clear he would have embraced her if social etiquette allowed it. ‘Cossette! It is so good to see you. My word, how long has it been?’

‘Four years at least.’ she exclaimed merrily.

Michel waved his hand. ‘Five at least. I remember it well. We were dining at Ser Auberon’s estate. He spilled claret on your rabbit fur.’

‘Beastly man!’ laughed Cossette, recalling the incident ‘Of course I remember now, you are right! Has it really been that long? I suppose it has. I had heard stories…’. She paused, uneasy at conversing about the small matter of Michel’s former treasonous charges. Flicking her fan shut, she threw the man a brilliant smile. ‘Water under the bridge! I see that you and the Emperor are very close these days?’

Extending his arm graciously, Michel pointed to the dance floor where the men and women were taking their positions for the next dance. ‘Shall we?’ he asked pleasantly.

‘Ser Michel, you read my mind!’ remarked Cossette in delight, allowing the chevalier to lead her away. He whispered something into her ear and she laughed as they departed.

I looked on, feeling a little down. It didn’t surprise me but in my heart I knew that was the sort of person Michel truly enjoyed the company of. A noble socialite that could hold a spritely conversation about the weather and all matters of nonsense. One that inevitably could host wonderful soirees and tea parties, dress in the latest fashions, and decorate manors in numerous shades of fashionable Orlesian pastel colours.

And then there was me.

Unable to watch the pair flounce about, I turned away and my eyes caught sight of a smiling Commander, weaving his way through the crowd. Several times some lady would stop him in his tracks, asking for a dance, and each time he would politely refuse with a small bow. It amused me and I soon turned my attention away from the dancing and onto the templar who danced around the guests at the ball. Finally Cullen noticed me grinning at him from afar and made his way towards me.

‘Not dancing tonight?’ called out Cullen, approaching me with an amused smile. Dressed in a black tunic, pants and boots, he looked extremely distinguished on this night of nights. Tall, handsome and devilishly roughish, with his amber hair loosely scattered across in unmanageable waves. A distinct scent of almonds and sandalwood entertained me and I desperately tried to not blurt out that I wanted to devour him then and there.

‘Oh not really, I just thought I’d sit the next fifty or so dances out.’ I replied sarcastically.

Cullen nodded towards the ballroom floor. ‘It appears as if Michel has another hidden talent none of us were any the wiser to.’

Our eyes drew to the Chevalier who was engaged in dancing with Cossette. Upon twirling, her blue gown became rather voluminous that was more frill that person. Elegantly he spun the woman around the room, each step purposively placed with accuracy and rhythm that I could not even have mustered in my wildest dreams.

I shrugged. ‘Better him than me. I never understood why people took pleasure in flapping about like that. It seems unnatural.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’ chuckled Cullen ‘I’ve managed to stay out of it all night, despite the insistence of several rather demanding ladies and a lord from Antiva. The only reason I’m still here is because Vivienne all but threatened my life if I left.’

I couldn’t help but laugh at the man. He smiled back at me with a shrug.

‘I contemplated it.’ he added, rolling his eyes. Cullen looked happy and it was rare to see Cullen in such a state, especially here of all places. The Commander paused, looking at me pensively. He held his hand out towards the group of waltzing people. ‘Of course if you wanted to I would be happy to oblige, just this once?’

Playfully I nudged him in the ribs as he smirked at me. ‘Not a chance Commander.’ I replied.

‘Thank the Maker.’ sighed Cullen ‘I was worried there for a moment.’

With beams on our faces we looked around the room of dancing patrons. It was a moment of calm. A moment of being at ease.

‘You look very beautiful tonight.’ observed Cullen quietly, his amber eyes crossing sideways to catch mine ‘I know it’s not my place but you deserve to hear it, irrespective of whether I should keep such things to myself.’

‘Thank you.’ I replied with a small smile, turning my eyes away from his. ‘You look very handsome yourself.’ I added, looking back to assess his attire ‘It’s always a treat to see you out of your armour.’

Cullen burst out laughing, as did I, covering my mouth as realised my mistake. ‘I meant in clothing that is not your armour.’ I corrected hastily.

‘No no it’s fine, I know exactly what you meant.’ teased the Commander, flashing me a wink. ‘You saucy minx, I have to watch myself around you.’. The Commander chuckled as he looked away. ‘Anyway the hour is late and I should probably call it a night.’ he observed ‘There is only so much pomp that I can endure in one day.’. The man playfully nudged me again as he began to leave ‘Goodnight Ophelia.’

Looking at the Commander, I knew the last thing I wanted was to be left here to watch dancing by myself. ‘Cullen, I don’t want to say goodnight yet.’ I confessed ‘If you could find it in your heart to stay a little longer I would be in your debt.’

The man looked surprised, but pleased. ‘Forever in my debt eh?’ he teased ‘Shall we take a turn in the herb garden then?’

‘That sounds more sinister than it should, even coming from you.’ I scoffed. Somewhat hopelessly, I looked around the room, shrugging in defeat. ‘Lords, ladies, dukes, countesses and every noble from here to Antiva. I couldn’t have conjured up a group I had less in common with if I tried. Please don’t leave me here with them.’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ pondered Cullen ‘surely the Inquisitor holds some intrigue at court? I would have thought they would be somewhat entertained?’

‘They look at me with contempt because my title was procured through circumstance rather than social standing or talent.’ I replied, rolling my eyes ‘That’s not even the worst of it. I overheard someone call me a low grade noble before. I mean, what does that even mean!!??’

Cullen looked amused. ‘It means you’re a low grade noble, that’s what!’ he replied in amusement ‘Of course, I wonder what that makes me?’

‘A brute.’ I quipped.

‘Only behind closed doors.’ replied Cullen deviously.

Beholding the group dancing before us, I sighed. ‘Little do they know I suffer the same amount of agony in their presence as they do mine.’

‘Tell me about it.’ muttered Cullen ‘Never did I imagine a day would come when I could say I miss being a templar back in Kirkwall. A simple rostered job where there is no need for pretence and inflated egos. If anyone of import came to town we were generally ushered out the way. To be honest, that was the way I liked it.’

‘Where’s Leliana?’ I asked suddenly, scouting the room. There had been no sign of the ginger haired Spymaster and I for one was secretly pleased.

Cullen shrugged. ‘She said she was feeling unwell. I suppose she was foolish enough to try the food in the end.’

‘You haven’t eaten, I take it?’ I remarked dryly ‘Couldn’t blame you after what Alistair said in the main hall earlier today.’

The Commander scoffed, throwing me a look that told me he knew better. ‘A thinly veiled threat. No matter, despite the paltry entertainment and the ominous chance of dancing, I intend on surviving the night. I packed some rations before I left Skyhold, it will be enough to last me throughout the trip.’

‘Madame Ruthie’s bread and salted ram?’ I grinned.

‘The very one.’ affirmed Cullen ‘Don’t laugh, it’s surprisingly more tasty when you compare it to freshly poisoned venison and pear tart.’

‘The pear tart was exquisite.’ I teased ‘You should have tried it.’

Cullen frowned ‘You shouldn’t have eaten the food either. There’s no knowing what Alistair is capable of.’

‘Probably less than you muster up in that head of yours.’ I dismissed ‘Alistair has kept his distance from the Inquisition party, I suppose we should be thankful for that?’

‘The night is young Ophelia, and vengeance stays up late.’ observed Cullen darkly. He cast his eyes to the door leading out of the ballroom. ‘So, shall we explore the palace before Gaspard starts dancing the tango and ruins the night entirely?’

I chuckled and nodded at the suggestion, well tired of the place.

With a firm but subtle move, Cullen laced his fingers through mine, leading on as we wove between drunken lords wearing ruffs wider than dinner plates, and ladies sporting more feathers than any bird could compete with. Finally we escaped through the golden doors and entered the calmer hallways of the palace, whose walls were covered in portraits of former Ferelden Kings.

Passing by a picture of King Cailan, his blue eyes appeared almost alive as the candlelight illuminated his features.

‘Do you think this place is haunted?’ I frowned ‘I have that eerie feeling.’

‘Nonsense,’ dismissed Cullen ‘you’re probably the type of person that thinks that the old hag in the village can put a curse on your neighbour for a shilling.’

‘Coming from the man who believes in faeries.’ I taunted under my breath.

Cullen chuckled. ‘Well played.’ he remarked, deciding suddenly to turn into another corridor. They all looked the same, and after a few more turns we were more than a little lost.

Passing by an open door that led into an outdoor area of grass, Cullen clicked his fingers.

‘Success.’ he remarked, pointing ahead towards the main gates exiting the palace.

‘Uhh Cullen, there are guards over there you do realise?’ I noted uncertainly ‘They are going to see us.’

‘The funny thing about guards is they won’t let just anyone into the palace, but anyone is free to leave.’ teased Cullen ‘Did you forget we aren’t prisoners here?’

‘That’s right, I forgot we aren’t in Skyhold.’ I scoffed.

Catching up with the templar as he marched on ahead, Cullen threw a brief nod to the guards as we passed through the gates and into the city of Denerim. They muttered something about staying away from the alienage, and I wondered why? Was Denerim’s alienage was as dangerous and overcrowded as Kirkwall’s had been? Why did Denerim even entertain such sad places?

The Commander breathed in the night air with pleasure and looked around the city with wonder. If only for a moment, I knew he felt free and it made me happy. In fact I felt the same, as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. There were men, women and children gathered in the crowded streets, dancing to the entertainers that played strange pipes and string instruments that looked like they came from foreign lands. A mystical tune that enchanted all that dared listen. The atmosphere was as vibrant and brilliant as the large flames burning from the oil torches, gathered brightly around the town square. One thing was certain, the night was alive!

‘Can’t say I’m too familiar with Denerim, any idea where you’re going?’ I asked suspiciously, almost running to keep up with the fast pace of the Commander.

‘Oh I can recall one place we are well acquainted with.’ remarked Cullen wickedly ‘It was in ruins mind you, but we made best of it as we could.’

I narrowed my eyes and the templar started laughing, raising his hands in innocence. ‘I merely meant The Gnawed Noble Tavern.’ exclaimed Cullen, pointed to the tavern up ahead ‘By the Maker, whatever did you think I was talking about Ophelia?’

Chuckling, I pointed a finger at the man. ‘The jokes on you, I haven’t two coins to bless myself with. You’re buying.’

‘So it’s just like the old days then?’ observed an amused Cullen ‘Don’t they pay you at Skyhold?’

Looking playfully outraged, I held the door of the tavern open for Cullen. ‘Do you realise I actually got paid a heck of a lot better in Kirkwall. That, Commander, is a fact.’

Cullen leant over and held the door to the tavern, allowing me to pass instead. ‘Do you realise larceny isn’t actually a paid wage? That, Inquisitor, is also a fact.’ quipped the templar.

We stumbled into a cheery and crowded tavern full of patrons deep in their mug of festivities. There was scarce room to breathe as we elbowed our way through humans, dwarves and elves, all laughing and drinking and merrymaking. The drunker ones had already started singing songs about their great king, while the more sober ones were making toasts to their King Alistair.

Finding a small table at the side room of the tavern, I waited as Cullen ventured to find some ale. There was something comforting in being in a room of strangers, and once again I felt like I was back in Kirkwall. It felt like I was home.

‘…and so here I am being asked to run the Inquisition. They call me into the war room one day and go ‘Varric, mate, you gotta help us out here. You’re the only person we trust in Thedas to run this ramshackle of a gig.’

Turning my head to the familiar voice, I chuckled at the sight of Varric weaving his bullshit to a group of unsuspecting patrons.

‘Lies!’ I called out, unable to control my laughter as Varric spun around in his chair and almost fell off it as he spotted me.

‘Sparrow what did I tell you about escaping the zoo after dark?’ yelled out Varric, making his way over to the table with a mischievous grin ‘Couldn’t handle the palace either, eh?’

The rogue knew exactly how I felt. ‘I dunno Varric, it didn’t feel right being in a place where I couldn’t pronounce or identify the food they were serving.’

‘That makes the three of us.’ observed Blackwall, edging his way in with two foaming flagons of frothy ale ‘The Ambassador told me to try an horv-derve or some nonsense that rich people consider good food. Do you know what it was?! This crumbly stale biscuit with fish eggs on it. I almost retched my guts out then and there. What mad git thought that fish eggs would be something good to eat?’

‘Meat, bread, potatoes and mead.’ stated Cullen, placing two large mugs on the table before taking a seat beside me. ‘That is all you ever need.’

Varric shook his head. ‘Ah but Curly that’s where you, Blackwall, Sparrow and I go wrong. We simplify it too much and that makes us uncivilised.’

‘Varric I’m a country raised Ferelden, there is no reason to complicate things.’ pointed out Cullen ‘Life’s too short to complicate things.’

‘Wisest thing I’ve heard all night.’ agreed Blackwall ‘These upper class folk don’t know what life is like on the other side of the stick, that’s the problem.’

‘Well that’s why we’re here drinking ale and they’re up there with their fish eggs.’ observed Varric, downing his drink. ‘Enough of this philosophical shit. Come on Hero, the darts are free. Time to take you up on that wager.’

Cullen rolled his eyes as the pair left, finally leaving us alone. ‘Gives a whole other meaning to the word philosophical, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Well the conversation didn’t turn into a game of truth and dare, so by Varric’s standards that’s pretty philosophical.’ I pointed out.

The Commander smiled at me, not saying a word.

‘What?’ I asked suspiciously ‘Do I have dirt on my face?’

His eyes held mine, a smile wide on lips that pronounced his white scar. ‘This is nice.’ Cullen confessed ‘You and I in a dive, drinking cheap ale from filthy mugs.’

Looking down at my well used mug, which sported chips and scratches and quite possibly several diseases carried by pirates, I smiled. ‘It is nice, isn’t it?’

‘It is indeed. Oh and you have dirt on your face.’ teased Cullen, taking a sip of ale. He nodded sagely, as if there had been thoughts running through his mind all night that he had refused to utter until now. ‘Ophelia…’. Cullen shook his head ‘…never mind.’

‘Getting forgetful in your old age?’ I teased.

The Commander looked deep in his mug, exploring the frothy depths with a great deal of thoughtfulness. ‘That’s the thing, I never forget a thing.’ he replied introspectively ‘I suppose that is a blessing and a curse.’. The templar lifted his eyes once more ‘Ophelia will you tell me something honestly? Are you happy? With Michel, that is?’

Desiring to drown in my ale rather than confess my doubts, which sounded pitiful to say the least, I resided to answer with a shake of my head. ‘It’s not that I’m unhappy Cullen. Michel is a good man. It’s just…’. I stopped myself, taking a deep sip of ale instead.

‘What?’ asked Cullen.

‘I was happier with you.’ I murmured ‘There is something about you that always draws me in. Even since I first saw you outside Haven I have been under your spell.’

‘Who’s the mage now?’ smirked Cullen.

Throwing the man a sincere look, I knew the answer. ‘You are.’

Feeling his hands gently wrap around my waist, the Commander slowly pulled me into his arms as he looked into my eyes. The templars mouth fell onto mine and kissed me softly, tenderly, in a manner that was so much more than instant gratification. His tongue softly explored, sensually deep with a moan in his throat before escaping once more. There was emotion behind that kiss as his lips lingered on mine before pulling away. It was apparent neither of us wanted it to ever end.

The Commander rested his forehead against mine, holding me close. ‘I miss you.’ he whispered ‘Come back to me. You and I belong to together. In your heart you know this, as do I.’

‘I know and it kills me.’ I replied softly, allowing the templar to kiss me again.

Cullen scrunched my hair in tight fists, pulling me hard against his mouth. His passion was raw, and that spark of desire begun to fan into flames as we connected. His body tightened, his abdomen rock hard as my hands felt him. Pulling away once more, there was fire in his amber eyes.

‘Say you’ll come back to me. Say that it is not too late.’ remarked Cullen, his lips falling onto my neck. Each kiss sending waves a desire to my inner core. ‘Leliana, Michel. They hold nothing to what we have. I’ve always known this, and surely now so do you?’. His hands ran along my stomach, finding my bare flesh under my shirt. Pulling me closer, Cullen breathed deeply, his arousal growing as his fingers kneaded wantonly into my skin. ‘It’s not about sex Ophelia, no matter how much I desire you. No matter how much I crave to take you and make you mine. Your obedience to my will that makes me so wildly aching.’. Cullen inhaled deeply, breathing in my scent ‘You are my second self. All that I am, you are, and all that you are, am I. We are one and same and yet so very very different, and I am not complete without you. That is why I need you.’

‘That sounds like a riddle.’ I mused.

Cullen chuckled. ‘I dare say it feels like that at times.’

Looking at the man, I knew it was true. When we were together the world seemed to fade away. It thrilled me and scared me.

‘What do we do?’ I asked miserably ‘Leliana and Michel won’t just go away, and neither should they.’

Cullen raised an eyebrow as if he considered it a good idea.

‘I’m being serious Cullen.’ I muttered ‘Ever since you and I have been together it has felt as if there has been this ever present shadow lingering nearby. I now know that my feelings were correct, Leliana was this shadow.’

‘You forgot Michel,’ added Cullen with a raised brow ‘somewhat of a shadow there also?’

With uncertainty I looked at my companion. ‘I know he will accept my decision, despite his disappointment. But Leliana is different. If she has you now, she will never let you go.’

Cullen sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. ‘Maker knows she can be persistent and rather spirited at times, but it is not her decision. She knew from the beginning that she and I were nothing more than…well, let us just say there was nothing emotionally intimate about our relationship. I swear to you that is the truth. And mark my words, I am not going to live my life under Leliana’s thumb. I love you. I have always loved you. Not her. It has never been her.’. The Commander looked at me seriously ‘I love you. Can we make it work this time?’

The tavern roared as Varric scored a bullseye. Jumping up onto the long table, the rogue danced a celebratory jig before downing two entire flagons of ale and tipping a third over his head, much to the delight of the onlookers.

Turning back to Cullen, I threw him a grin. I knew exactly where I wanted to be and it was right here. With him.


	71. The Imprisoned Cricket

The day of the coronation had been an arduous experience, and yet the most taxing affair begun much later in the night. After attending the royal banquet at the Denerim palace, and subsequently refusing to savour a crumb of food or drink a drop of liquid, Leliana was left feeling even more ill and exhausted than ever. She retired early, excusing herself from the curious crowd that gathered to catch a glimpse of the Divine. They all held the same expression, that unnerving look of awe and disbelief that The Maker had resurrected her. Spoken to her. It was a blessing, and yet Leliana couldn’t shake the feeling that sometimes it seemed more like a curse.

Retching into a porcelain bedpan until the early hours of morning, she finally succumbed to her desperation and sent one of her attendants to go find help. A wise woman that lived near Lake Calenhad had been treating Leliana in recent weeks, and once again she needed her services. As mid-morning approached the Divine remained in her chambers; worried, hungry and her hair a mat of knots and bile. The sharp rat tat tat at the door startled her and she ran over to swing it open in desperation.

‘Abbé, did you bring it?’ asked Leliana urgently, beckoning the old woman into her room. ‘Come in, come in. ’

The woman entered quietly, securing the door fast. She was dressed humbly, of that of a commoner, her long grey hair tied back in a loose plait and a necklace of amber and shells around her wrinkled neck.

‘Your agent told me I’d find you here.’ informed the woman, running her eyes over the chambers ‘Denerim Palace of all places. Unexpected, seeing as our last meeting was only the other day.

‘You have the sight, don’t you?’ observed Leliana sarcastically ‘I thought you could see the future?’

The woman scoffed at the comment. ‘Tosh, I was half way through cooking a pot of stew and ready to get a good night’s rest when your agent started banging on my door.’

‘Did you read the message I sent?’ asked Leliana seriously ‘We need to deal with this.’

‘Yes yes, we are already doing that.’ replied the old woman tiredly ‘I would have told you not to fret and wait until our next visit in Skyhold. But as it is, here I am.’. Removing a bundle wrapped in cream cloth, she placed it firmly into the hands of the Divine. ‘I’ve made you a tincture this time. One of great potency.’ the old woman advised ‘A lot more than the tea you’ve been taking. Squaw mint, cotton root bark and black cohosh. Take ten drops three times a day.’

Leliana untied the bundle frantically, unscrewing the bottle and administering the drops immediately. She swallowed the bitter taste and looked somewhat relieved. ‘The tea you gave me before I left did nothing. Abbé, this sickness won’t leave me day and night, yet still my flux does not come. Why is that?’

The old woman nodded, not in the slightest bit concerned. ‘These things take time and patience. I’ve yet to see a girl carry a child to full term after consuming this brew for more than a few weeks.’

Upon hearing the time frame, the spymaster looked displeased. Her fists clenched in agitation. ‘A few weeks? No, you don’t understand. I need this done as soon as possible.’

Waving her hand, the old woman dismissed Leliana’s temper with a scoff. ‘Bah you aren’t showing yet so you have time to spare. You’ve carried this child now for a few months so it may take a little longer. You do well with my instructions and by the next moon there will be no child in your belly.’

Leliana looked worried ‘I mean it Abbé, this needs to happen now. There are reasons for my haste. I need….I need to conceive another child.’

The Abbé beheld Leliana with a frown, weighing up whether to entertain her curiosity or let it be. In an officious manner she patted the end of the bed, plumping up the covers before seating herself on the edge. Noticing Leliana’s quietness, the woman raised her brows.

‘Well come on, tell me child!’ she urged ‘Maker knows you need to talk about it to someone. Say what’s on your mind. You’ll have no judgement from me, you know that.’

Leliana looked completely unconvinced. She shook her head and turned to the window, pretending to be more interested in what lay outside. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’ she remarked coldly ‘What possible cause is there to explain such things if you would be incapable of comprehending?’

The Abbé scoffed at the comment. ‘You young ones are all the same, it appears even the Divine is as knuckleheaded as the rest. Think you’re the first to have experienced life? That no one else could possibly comprehend your worldly encounters? Well I’ve seen eighty-three winters, and been privy to everything in-between. There is nothing you could confess that would shock me these days. There is nothing that this old bag of bones couldn’t wrap her head around.’

Leliana rolled her eyes at the woman before returning her attention towards the window once more. ‘This problem falls outside the wide spectrum of even your life, Abbé.’

‘Your problem is you’re too closed mouthed.’ observed the Abbé with a sharp point of her finger ‘You always were, ever since you were a child. It might have helped you back, playing the doe eyed and quiet orphan role, but we both know you’re of a different caste now. Now you refuse to speak what you think, secretive and aloof, and I can see how that meddles with your mind. Look at those eyes, flashing around the room. You’ll tell me what’s going on Leliana and you’ll tell me now.’

‘Fine.’ muttered Leliana, looking dismal.

Despite her protests, the spymaster did trust the Abbé. She had been working for Lady Cecilie Vasseur as a healer when Leliana was a young girl living in the Vasseur villa in Orlais. The Abbé, even back then, held a great reputation for being a wise woman, herbalist and seer. Using cartomancy, she would read the cards of Cecilie and advise her on all matters. The Abbé brewed teas for sickness and health, and provided poultices for the many questionable reasons Cecilie would require them. As the years progressed, Leliana remained in touch with the wise woman. She was thankful for such a contact, especially now when she needed her services the most.

‘The man’s child that I carry is not the one that I am supposed to have.’ confessed Leliana ‘Oh Abbé, I have made a terrible mistake but the deed is done. I must remedy this situation as soon as possible and conceive a child with the right father. The sooner, the better.’

‘And who told you that you were supposed to have this man’s child?’ asked the old woman plainly and without judgement, her pale blue eyes bearing into the spymaster’s ‘Is this the will of your mind? A dream? A feeling? Love?’

‘I will tell you but you must keep this to yourself Abbé. The Maker told me. In several visions now.’ answered Leliana adamantly ‘I did not see the real father’s role in all this until now. Now I see it all too well. I mistook who the father was but now I have realised the error. Now I know the truth of who is to sire this child, and what I must do.’

Muttering something under her breath, the old woman withdrew a hessian pouch from her pocket. She plunged her hand into the bag and thrust the contents onto the wooden floor. Several white knuckle bones carved with strange runes scattered across the boards in a loud clatter, and the Abbé bent down to examine them. A long time passed, and the woman spoke softly under her breath, interpreting the bones.

‘What do they say?’ asked Leliana, somewhat fearfully, crouching down beside the woman.

The Abbé’s fingers swirled from knucklebone to knucklebone, as if connecting the dots to some unseen pattern. ‘I see a man with dark features and a troubled past, holding the scales of justice at his side.’ she observed ‘He’s strong. Stronger than even you give him credit.’. The old woman looked up at the Divine, holding a stern look. ‘He won’t follow you like the rest of your adoring sheep, Leliana. This one was born under the sign of Chiron. He travels on his own path. If you deceive him, he will hold you accountable. If you seek to control him, he’ll do the same in turn. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, until the balance is held once more.’

Leliana looked undeterred. ‘There is no greater honour. He should be grateful.’

‘You know who this man is then?’ nodded the old woman.

‘In an official capacity, he is very close Abbé.’ confessed Leliana ‘He is my Left Hand.’

The Abbé threw a wary glance. ‘What about in an unofficial capacity?’

Standing up abruptly, Leliana looked determined. ‘Abbé, I serve the Maker. This is what the Maker wants. I am merely a vessel to a higher being.’

‘You needn’t convince me of your faith to your plight. Only of the ones that surround it.’ observed the Abbé plainly ‘Since the time of Andraste, the Maker has withheld his direct contact with the mortal realm. Until you, that is. Yours is a bond I would not question, but I will warn you to tread carefully.’

‘In respect to what?’ scoffed Leliana ‘To one man?’

The old woman chuckled. ‘You see the prize before you but fail to see the abyss that stands between you and it. Think before you leap, or you will inevitably fall. Heed the bones, Leliana.’

Leliana nodded ‘Thank you Abbé .That is all for now, you can go.’

‘I’ve made you another batch here, let me know when you are nearly finished. We’ll assess matters then.’. The old woman patted Leliana on arm and left, leaving the second bundle on the table.

Turning back to the window, Leliana glanced out onto the cold palace grounds below. A lone gardener walked along the frozen gravel path, a rake balanced on his shoulders.

‘Scales of justice or not, his is not the will of the Maker.’ she declared to herself, drawing the curtains sharply shut.

****

Over the last few years I had grown to learn through experience that there are hangovers and then there are hangovers, the latter being the one that I was experiencing as I opened my bleary eyes. It was early morning at the palace at Denerim and I rolled away from the sun shining in through the lace curtains, only to be greeted with a pair of disapproving blue eyes looking directly at me from the other side of the bed.

‘How are you feeling?’ asked Michel, a raised brow thrown my way as he stirred his lemon tea. The clank of the metal spoon onto the delicate porcelain pounded in my head, and I rolled over again with a groan.

‘I feel like I’ve caught the plague.’ I moaned.

The chevalier chuckled, holding out his cup to me. ‘Take a sip, it will settle your stomach. I promise.’

Lifting the cup to my lips, I took a sip and grimaced at the acidic taste of citrus and ginger. With a polite nod, I handed it back.

‘That bad?’ chuckled Michel.

‘Worse.’ I confessed, lying back down again.

‘Well I had a marvellous night,’ observed Michel jovially ‘it has been too long since I have had the pleasure of a ball such as that! And it’s been far too long since I have enjoyed the company of so many fine people in one room! The food was exquisite and the fashions were tasteful, if not a little feathery. Oh and Emperor Gaspard was in such good form, he insisted several times during the night that I take a position in his private guard. There were offers of money and titles, truffles and merlot. There was even some talk of me being Champion, but I suspect that was more the royal punch speaking rather than the man himself.’

‘Champion?’ I remarked in surprise ‘Champion of Gaspard?’

Michel shrugged ‘Gaspard is alive today because of me. As I’ve said, that will always nurture a certain level of gratitude. An Emperor needs to surround himself with people that he can trust with his life, and that is easier said than done.’. The Orlesian pursed his lips, distracted by another thought. ‘I couldn’t help but notice you disappeared from the ball?’

‘You were dancing most of the night with a handful of women, and I hate dancing.’ I muttered, sitting up in bed achingly. ‘Ferelden balls are wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but they get a little tedious after a while. A bunch of us went to the local tavern in Denerim.’

Michel threw a curt nod, finishing his cup of tea in silence. With a clink, he placed the cup on the table. ‘You mean Cullen and you went to a tavern together.’ he added promptly ‘I recall noticing the Commander’s absence also.’

‘No I meant a bunch of us.’ I replied irritably. I couldn’t help but feel I was being lectured here rather than conversed with. Perhaps the guilt I was feeling was adding to my agitation. ‘You know; Varric, Blackwall, Cullen, half a dozen bandits and a handful of dwarves from Orzammar. A bunch of us.’

The chevalier looked disappointed at my confession. ‘Ophelia you were a special guest of the king of Ferelden. You should never have left.’ pointed out Michel, a hint of reproach in his voice ‘It shows poorly for relations between Ferelden and the Inquisition. After what Cullen did to Sierra, the Inquisition should be doing everything they can to try and mend ties with Alistair.’

Throwing the Orlesian an incredulous look, I added under my breath ‘Somehow I don’t think attending a ball is going to make everything better on that issue?’

‘No but it further shows a lack of respect that you hold for the man.’ frowned Michel ‘Surely you can see that?’

Groaning, I dragged myself from the cotton sheets and pulled on some clothes. ‘Andraste help me, you sound like Vivienne. I seem to recall being at that frivolous ball for the better half of the night. I distinctly remember the long clock chiming eleven times and I was still watching you dancing with your twentieth lady of the night.’

Michel shrugged innocently. ‘I like dancing and you did not wish to dance. Does it matter if I choose to enjoy myself with people who do?’

‘And I enjoy drinking at dingy taverns where no one cares for ballroom dancing and wearing feathers.’ I replied tiredly ‘What can I say?’

‘Midnight is the most important part of a ball.’ educated Michel ‘You never leave a ball before midnight. It is not the done thing. Duals have been fought in Orlais because guests have left a ball before midnight. It is a silent way of insulting the host.’

Rolling my eyes, I laughed in disbelief. ‘Michel I’ve never ever been to a ball, so how would I have known that?! And I’m pretty certain Alistair won’t be challenging me to a dual because I left just before the clock struck twelve.’

‘Ophelia I am not here to judge.’ remarked Michel, throwing me a small smile ‘Only to show you the flaws that you reveal to the rest of the realm. I think sometimes you forget what it means to hold the position of the Inquisitor. There is a time and place to get liquored up in a tavern, and the night of the coronation of the King of Ferelden, when you should have been present at his ball was not one of them. Do you not see what is going on around you? Orlais wants the Inquisition tamed and Ferelden wants it gone entirely. That is what is whispered behind closed doors. Perhaps there has been no official address, but that is the underlying issue we must deal with now.’

‘Good, they can seal the breeches and deal with Corypheus, and I can finally get some sleep.’ I replied irritably.

Michel placed a hand on the bed, his voice growing softer. ‘Ma cherie, Thedas is watching you. In their eyes you are the Inquisition and already you hold too much power for their liking. You must remember that from time to time.’

Throwing the man a frown, I finished pulling my boots on. Of course he was judging me. And to be quite frank, I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

‘How was your night with Cossette?’ I asked sharply, changing the subject ‘I’m not judging you for whisking away some woman for half the night without the smallest intention of introducing her to me. However I will say you both seemed more than a little smitten. Did you both have a nice time?’

His blue eyes flashed at me, innocently blue but cleverly concealing any real thoughts on the matter. ‘She is a friend,’ informed Michel ‘nothing more.’. The chevalier looked a little put out by my remarks, adding ‘I cannot help being amicable to those around me. We can’t all be as you are.’

‘How am I?’ I asked in surprise, feeling a little hurt.

Knock, knock, knock.

Michel sighed, rubbing his temple in agitation. ‘Forget I said anything.’ he muttered, swiftly standing up. ‘I shall see who that is.’

****

Stretching his arms as he bathed in a moment of peace and requiescence, Jowan enjoyed the patch of warm sun that had finally revealed itself in the courtyard at Skyhold. Rolling up his sleeves, he rested against the warm stones, happy to watch the world go by as he baked. Sera was practicing her archery, a sharp thwip thwip thwip sounding as her arrows shot into the hay target. Cole sat beside an old wooden barrel, trying to catch his shadow several times before conceding defeat and residing to catch crickets in a jar instead. The odd mage and soldier would pass by, throwing a cheerful wave before going about their business, and the occasional one would stop a moment and have yarn about the weather before heading off. Perhaps it was mundane and uneventful, but for Jowan such uneventfulness was pure bliss.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled in relaxation only to open them once more as the warm rays suddenly disappeared from his face. Looking up, he could see the outline of the woman blocking the sun, standing before him. His eyes squinted, attempting to see who the offender was, and through the glare he noticed the woman was not dressed as a soldier or mage. She wore a deep red tribal looking top that revealed a fair portion of her midriff, a strange looking long leather skirt adorned with many buckles, and upon her arms were several leather greaves on the lower wrists and upper arm. On her left shoulder, the leather greave was adorned with large and exotic green and brown feathers. Her dark brown hair was pinned up, although she held a long fringe that covered her brow, and she held a small amused smile, looking down at Jowan with her laughing dark brown eyes.

Silently put out at the sudden loss of his serenity, Jowan pursed his lips. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

The woman simply shook her head. ‘No, I was merely curious.’ she replied.

‘Curious?’ frowned Jowan ‘Curious of what?’

‘Oh there are many reasons.’ she shrugged ‘For one, ‘tis curious to finally meet the man that caused so much animosity amongst our party when we were fighting the Blight all those years ago.’

With a furrowed brow, the mage rose to his feet. This woman was up to mischief and he did not wish to play. With an extended hand, Jowan remarked precariously ‘I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure?’

‘Morrigan.’ she replied, looking at his hand with disinterest ‘And you are Jowan. The mage that poisoned the Arl of Redcliffe and corrupted his son Connor. A pleasure to meet you.’

His black eyes flashed around the courtyard, hoping no one else was listening in on their conversation. ‘Yes and no.’ he replied swiftly ‘I suspect you have heard the more popular yet less accurate version of that story. You travelled with Sierra Amell, did you? I don’t recall ever seeing you at Redcliffe while I was there.’

‘Thankfully I was spared that particular journey.’ yawned Morrigan ‘My place was at the camp. I only recall Sierra losing the favour of quite a few members when returning with the news that she had released the wicked little blood mage from the dungeons at Redcliffe Castle.’

‘A merciful act I will always be grateful for.’ acknowledged Jowan.

‘All the good it will do for her now. Being dead and all.’ replied Morrigan flatly.

Jowan looked displeased. ‘So I had heard.’ Growing more and more impatient, he crossed his arms. ‘I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with?’

Morrigan shrugged, starting to slowly pace around the man in an annoying manner that held her amusement. ‘Maybe, maybe not? Though one thing comes to mind. I am wondering why there are three Chantry spies currently watching you from afar.’ she observed, adding quickly under her breath ‘Don’t look, you’ll only give cause for attention. There is one reading a book by the stairs to the main hall, one is near that dingy tavern over there, and the third is pretending to be playing Orlesian pétanque with that group over by the wall.’

Jowan looked surprised as he subtly cast his eyes to the three locations, each time spotting people that looked suspiciously like Chantry agents. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the woman. ‘You must be mistaken. There is no reason Leliana would be keeping an eye on me, of all people.’

Morrigan revealed a knowing smile ‘Of all people. My thoughts precisely. You are the Left Hand after all, your job is to protect the Divine? Not the other way round?’

‘You think I am the Left Hand to the Divine.’ Jowan observed suspiciously. He had been under the impression that no one knew of his role aside from a few in the higher ranks of the Chantry. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘I have eyes, do I not?’ observed Morrigan airily ‘Leliana spends her time wisely, and I have noticed she spends a fair bit in your company. Naturally there could be several reasons for this, but seeing as Cullen is her favourite I come to the conclusion that you must be working for her. Also I might remind you that Leliana is a spy? I can only imagine she watches what she wants information on. Which appears to be you. Mind you I have only been here less than a few weeks so I could be wrong. Unlikely, but ‘tis possible.’. Morrigan smirked, looking as if she had never been wrong a day in her life. ‘So if I happen to see three agents watching you from afar, well naturally I try to answer the riddle. But even now my curiosity gets the better of me. May I ask why, of all the people in Thedas, the Divine chose an escaped blood mage to be her Left Hand?’

‘From all accounts, the same could be asked of yourself?’ pointed out Jowan crisply ‘Leliana mentioned she extended an invitation towards you to join us here.’. The mage crossed his arms, a knowing and rather smug smile on his lips. ‘Witch of the Wilds. For that is what they call you, yes? You came across Sierra and Alistair in the Korcari Wilds, returning some Grey Warden treaties that your mother had kept. Apparently not long afterwards your mother Flemeth saved Sierra and Alistair from the Tower of Ishal in Ostagar, where they would have most certainly have died. Afterwards she sent you along with them to help in their journey. After the Blight, from all accounts, you disappeared from the realm entirely.’. Jowan raised a brow towards his companion ‘Although between you and I, we know that is not hard to accomplish. Over the years, however, Leliana did receive word that you were in Orlais, serving as a court mage to Empress Celene, and there you remained until she was murdered. Naturally the Orlesian court did not look at you so fondly without your greatest supporter at your side. Emperor Gaspard refused to welcome you at his court, and so you were left without a place to go. Until an offer to reside at Skyhold tickled your interest. And so, Morrigan, here we are.’

Morrigan chuckled, clapping her hands slowly. ‘My my my, we do know more than we profess.’

Jowan shrugged ‘It is rather hard not to notice a new face in the keep, let alone one that holds magic such as yours. It matters not. My point is, why do any of us find ourselves on the paths that we tread?’

‘Completely avoiding the question and yet a sound observation nevertheless,’ laughed Morrigan ‘ah Jowan we may be friends yet. Time shall tell, time shall tell.’. Turning from the mage, she began to walk away ‘Enjoy your sun, mysterious one. Beware of those who would try to take it away.’

Jowan frowned, turning away from Morrigan and returning to his place in the sun once more. A prickling heat burned under his collar and no longer did the sun feel as calming as it once did.

‘Driggle-draggle.’ he muttered under his breath.

Walking over to the keep’s wall, Jowan approached Cole who sat on the ground with his crickets.

‘Leave them alone.’ informed Jowan sharply, grabbing the glass abruptly from Cole.

Bending down, the mage gently poured the crickets out of the glass and they quickly hopped away.

The rogue looked confused, revealing his pale eyes from the wide brimmed hat he was wearing. ‘They were my friends.’ protested Cole.

‘Friends or prisoners?’ asked Jowan, looking troubled. ‘Crickets don’t like being kept in glass bottles, Cole. You would do well to remember that.’

Turning abruptly, the mage paced past The Herald’s Rest, heading towards the stairs that led to the Mage Tower. Throwing a disheartened look at the agent standing by the wall, Jowan pressed on and tried to ignore the shadows trailing close behind. 


	72. Wicked Mother

There was nothing memorable about the journey home for the Spymaster. The scent of fresh hay, horse and manure wafted heavily as the soldiers gathered outside the gates of Denerim in the stillness of morning. As quickly as they had come, the Inquisition party left the city that now was the official residence of King Alistair Theirin. Long live the king.

_There was nothing memorable about the journey._

Along the road home, Leliana gave call for a sudden break, urging the Inquisition party to ride on ahead as she rested a moment. Her templars and guards settled by the edge of the forest as she sought respite in amongst the trees, claiming sickness was the cause…but she knew better. Blood had begun to run heavily from her loins, and she knew at that moment that the Abbé’s tincture had worked. Her unborn child was dead; her womb empty once more.

_There was nothing memorable about the journey._

In the river she washed her hands, the crimson fading into the clear waters that trickled over log and stone. To wash away what once was, for there was no room to feel sadness. To feel was to be weak, and she could not afford to be weak. She was the Divine and her destiny was already written out for her. Her destiny. Her glorious destiny. This fallen child was a life that could not be, and now she had to ensure that the right one would come to fruition.

With a sharp nod to her escort as she emerged from the woods, the party set off once more. A few templars cracked a joke or two, and everyone laughed and smiled as they cheerfully rode towards the Frostback Mountains.

_There was nothing memorable about the journey._

****

_The moon looked down and wept for love, _   
_with tears of silver sorrow,_   
_as it beheld one lily fair,_   
_that carelessly floated by._

_It captivated heart and mind,_   
_spinning sapphiric threads of reverie,_   
_fervour filling that twilight abyss,_   
_a pluck of limerence and ardour._

_The moon did swear upon the night,_   
_upon the tide of grace it swore,_   
_an immortal declaration to the stars,_   
_that all it loved, now never more._

Riding into Skyhold, we were welcomed with friendly waves from the soldiers posted at the gate. They whistled to their comrades on horses, and laughed at the rude gestures returned in passing. Master Dennet greeted us at the stables with cheerful eyes, full of animated questions about how the coronation went and what breed of stallion Alistair was riding these days. Lost in a flurry of soldiers and horses, I dismounted hastily, eager to retire to a bath and some clean clothes.

There had been an awful lot to contemplate along the journey home. Of where the Inquisition now stood with Ferelden? Were we to receive the same support as we did when Anora was on the throne? Would we receive more? Maybe less? How long could we to continue using Riddlehamhope Keep to house mages across the realm? When would Lord Byron realise that Athalwolf Guildersleeve was dead? Was he distraught at not being able to see his son, fooled by a chain of letters written by Jowan? Letters convincing the lord that all was well but he was too busy to come visit; would Lord Byron recognise the false hand that wrote them? Would a war arise if ever Lord Byron found out? Would it be inevitable that more blood would soon be spilled?

I shook my head, willing the concerns away. Of course, then there were more personal matters for my mind to grapple with. My unyielding desire to be with Cullen, and the guilt that it held. I wanted everyone to be happy and that was not possible when holding the affections of two men. Michel would never understand, and yet our continued bickering and inability to see eye to eye made it a little easier to contemplate breaking away.

My attention was drawn to Michel’s blonde hair flashing before me as he set off towards his lodgings without a word in passing. Eyeing the man in the distance, I eventually turned away and headed off towards the main hall. What was the point of chasing after someone who was avoiding me? Spirits at a low and a shuffle in my step, I beheld the crowded hall ahead and decided to backtrack. There were other ways to access my chambers through the lower levels of the keep. Ways to get into bed and pull the covers over my head without being drowned in questions and gossip.

With my satchel flung across my shoulder, I begun through the stone cloisters, unaware that I was being followed until a whistle sounded behind me. Looking around hastily, I had already began to muster up an excuse as to why I couldn’t stay and chat. And yet it was all for none as I locked eyes with the Commander of the Inquisition.

‘Oi where are you off to?’ called out Cullen, a smirk on his face ‘Up to no good already?’

With a foolish grin that one holds when completely smitten, I waited for the Commander to catch up. He moved surprisingly fast and with ease for a man coated in steel, and with a sword and shield strapped to his back. Reaching my side, Cullen gave me a playful nudge on the chin and a fond smile.

‘You look upbeat for someone who’s been travelling all day.’ I observed.

‘Well I made it back alive so there’s that cause for cheer.’ scoffed Cullen ‘May I never have to venture back into Denerim for a very very long time.’

‘I suppose you did have a good trip back then.’ I grinned ‘Come to think of it, where were you? I didn’t see you for the entire trip?’

Cullen ran his thumb across his bottom lip, teasing it for a moment as he looked at me. ‘Well naturally, you were at the head of the line. I may have seen the back of you however, half a dozen times or thereabouts.’

‘Spoken like a true stalker.’ I teased.

Taking a step closer, Cullen ran a feather light hand down my arm. ‘Not at all.’ he remarked in a low and seductive voice ‘It was much more of a voyeuristic experience. There is something delectable about seeing your arse clad in leather, riding on a horse.’

Laughing, I began to walk down the stone path once more ‘And on that note-‘

Stretching out his arm against the stone arch, Cullen blocked the way forward. ‘Stop.’ he ordered, moving closer. There was a smile on his lips but his amber eyes were more serious. Lustful. Intoxicating.

Cullen’s armour moved against me as he gently pushed me against the wall, the hard press of cold metal causing more pleasure than pain as the man engulfed me in his strong arms. His masculine scent, his towering height, the bulk of his physique that was all muscle, sweat and savagery. His hair loose and slightly wet, most likely from water poured over his head when he dismounted, a habit the soldiers were fond of doing when they got too overheated. Cullen leant over me, and the salacious glint in his eye told me that he was well aware of the control he had over me.

‘Now we’re back in Skyhold and that tedious trip is behind us, I’m going to set a few things straight.’ he informed, pressing me harder against the wall ‘Tonight I’m going to tell Leliana about us. I want there to be no confusion with her. And you…my pet, you need to tell Michel. As soon as possible.’. His lips brushed across my lips, his breath teasing my temples and eyelids as he covered me in the lightest of kisses. Meanwhile his hands pressed hard with desire, kneading my arms with a force that bordered on painful. ‘The sooner you do that, the sooner I finally get you to myself.’ growled Cullen.

Raising myself onto my toes, I almost met the man eye to eye, wrapping my hands around his neck. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’ I whispered, placing a light kiss on his lips.

Cullen grinned, passionately kissing me on the mouth as I playfully protested, trying to pull away.

‘Someone will see us.’ I warned.

Turning me around suddenly, Cullen came up hard behind me, holding me lightly around the neck with one hand as he began to kiss my exposed flesh. His mouth teased my throat, my shoulder, and then lingered near my ear. Each time I struggled, his grasp tightened.

‘You’d like that wouldn’t you?’ he smouldered ‘Someone watching as I stood behind you, trousers around ankles, rutting you hard against this stone wall. Well to be honest I’d enjoy that too.’. His hand ran down my throat to my chest, mauling at my breasts confined under my tunic. ‘If someone walked by now what a sight they would see,’ he whispered in my ear ‘and yet I could make it so much more.’. His hands fell to my thighs, squeezing them between this firm hands ‘Depravity can be a beautiful thing, if you succumb to it with the right frame of mind.’ he cooed. His lips returned to my neck, savagely covering my flesh with nips and flicks of his tongue, his firm hands snaking into my trousers, bare flesh on flesh as he reached between my legs with a deep growl…

The sound of footsteps approaching caused me to jump and hastily I pulled away. The Commander chuckled, amused at the crimson flush in my cheeks as two patrolling soldiers passed by.

‘Evening Commander.’ they called out, marching onwards towards the residential area.

Cullen nodded briefly, turning to me with a wide curl on his lips.

‘Stop it.’ I grinned.

He playfully raised his hands. ‘Completely innocent, never did a thing.’. Running his arm around my waist, Cullen pulled me to him once more. Placing a kiss on my forehead, he lifted my chin, gently encouraging my eyes into his. ‘Soon we will be together,’ he whispered in a low voice, adding with a devious smile ‘and then there will be no mercy for you.’

‘Goodnight Cullen.’ I chuckled, making my way onwards once more.

Running a casual forefinger across his stubble, Cullen silently threw me a suggestive smile. What he was thinking was anyone’s guess, but that look promised provocative thoughts and the prospect of even filthier deeds.

A shiver on my skin, I found myself captivated as he swiftly turned away, heading back towards the courtyard and whistling a tune as he went on his way.

****

Fires burned bright in the main hall that evening, the sweet fragrant scent of redwood and river gum filling the air. Several small groups huddled around tables with mugs of mulled wine and squares of brandy fruit cake being shared amongst friendly chatter. Nothing could wipe the content smiles off the faces of the people in the hall, aside from the occasional icy breeze as someone entered in through the main doors.

In front of one of the glowing fire pits stood Skyhold’s spymaster, a troubled expression on her face. She looked tired and felt it even more so, for there were things that had to be done and yet there was no way of knowing how to do it. And that lack of being in control was the very thing that scared her the most. She felt powerless, and Leliana loathed that feeling.

She paced the room, tapping the dagger on the flat of her palm. Deep in thought, over and over, walking up and down in front of the fireplace until minutes or even hours could have passed and she would have been none the wiser.

‘I need to find Jowan.’ she muttered to herself, casting a dark look towards the door. Sheathing her blade sharply, she begun for the entrance only to be confronted by the Commander entering through the doors.

‘Cullen!’ exclaimed Leliana, clutching her chest ‘Andraste preserve me, you scared me!’

The Commander raised a curious brow, stepping past her into the main hall. His eyes carried across the room before turning back to his companion. ‘People arriving in the main hall scaring you these days, are they?’ he remarked, throwing her a suspicious smirk ‘Is there something on your mind? You look white as a ghost.’

‘Freezing is more like it.’ dismissed Leliana ‘I returned to the fireplace in my study filled with snow. Here is the only place that is warm.’

Cullen raised a brow, not convinced that was the reason for her apparent jitters.

‘Forget it.’ Leliana remarked more casually. Running her hands through her loose ginger tresses, she shook her head. ‘I just wasn’t expecting to see you.’

Drawing himself to the closest fire pit, the Commander raised his hands to the dancing flames, wiggling his fingers to entertain the heat. ‘Well it is good timing nevertheless. I was hoping to speak with you’. He looked up quickly, casting a glance around the room to ensure there were no eavesdroppers. ‘In Denerim, Ophelia and I spent some time together. We talked. A lot. We’ve decided to rekindle our relationship, which pleases me. However there can be no liaisons between you and I if this is to happen, and I need you to know that.’

‘What?!’ The fire in Leliana’s green eyes could have burned down Thedas then and there as she beheld the Commander. She chortled at the comment, a smirk on her lips yet apparent disgust on her face. ‘This is some kind of joke, no? You and Ophelia? After she ran off with that Orlesian buffoon and played you the fool? Cullen have you lost your mind?!’

Cullen waved his hand at her. ‘Leliana stop, I’ve heard it all before. Look I realise this comes as a surprise, but considering I love Ophelia it can’t come as that much of a surprise. You knew from the beginning that you and I were not in any real relationship. There was never any you and I. There never has been, it was a rule I recall that you created between us many years ago.’

Leliana scoffed at the comment, crossing her hands defiantly. ‘Convenient how you use that to your advantage Cullen. Besides, if that is the case why bother telling me at all?’

‘So there is no confusion as to where we stand.’ warned the Commander ‘I mean it Leliana, there will be no dismissing my involvement with Ophelia. There will be no coming in-between us. I love her, and she is in my life whether you approve or not.’

Leliana’s eyes ran wild around the room, a panic in her chest. It couldn’t end like this. She wasn’t ready for it to end. Yet now, before her very eyes, Cullen was slipping away and there was nothing that she could do about it. Leliana was losing him and Maker forgive her, she would not let that happen. Clenching her jaw, Leliana glared at Cullen with vehemence.

‘I’m carrying your child.’ she announced coldly.

The words rang in the hall. Rang in his mind. Simple and to the point and yet never so outrageous. Cullen turned to the woman, utterly shocked at what she had just blurted out.

‘You’re what?!’ he exclaimed sternly, stepping closer to the Spymaster. Grabbing her arm roughly, Cullen forced her closer to him. ‘Do not play me the fool Leliana,’ he whispered in a threatening tone ‘you wouldn’t be that stupid as to lie to me about something like this?’

The Spymaster wrenched her arm away, casting Cullen a deathly stare. ‘Is that how you treat the mother of your child?’ she observed icily ‘Have you forgotten where you’ve stuck that cock of yours, or do I need to remind you how making a baby works?’

‘Yes but we weren’t making a baby, where we?’ growled Cullen, flashing her an accusing glare ‘We agreed that there would be no child.’. He shook his head in disbelief, laughing bitterly at the woman. ‘Unbelievable.’ he scorned ‘You planned this, didn’t you? All this time when you assured me that you were taking precautions because you knew I did not want a child with you. All this time, you were continuing on that fucking insane path of trying to have my child.’

‘If you didn’t want to risk a child you should have kept it in your trousers.’ retorted Leliana dryly.

The Commander dragged his hands somewhat desperately through his amber hair, a silent frustration on his face as he beheld the woman.

Leliana crossed her hands, looking darkly at the man. ‘Of course I used precautions. It appears they did not work.’

Cullen shook his head, refusing to believe a word of it. ‘You were always an expert at weaving lies. I should have known.’ he muttered ‘Maker help me, but I trusted you would do the right thing and respect my wishes. No, but now it’s all too clear. To trust you was the epitome of foolishness. ’

‘It happens Cullen, your trust in me remains intact.’ asserted Leliana ‘I told you that I would not press you for this child. I told you several months ago, if I recall? And I meant it. But we cannot change what has happened, even if it was nothing more than a mistake. The question now remains whether you wish to be a part of this child’s life? Will you support me, Cullen? Will support this child of ours?’

The Commander rested his hands heavily on the table, his head bent forward. He remained silent, his face covered by his sandy hair. It was apparent the man was overwhelmed by this unexpected news, and less happy for it. In fact he looked quite devastated.

‘I will not abandon you or our child,’ replied Cullen darkly ‘that is not the person that I am and you know it. How far along are you?’. Lifting his eyes, he looked at her flat stomach.

‘I couldn’t really say. That is, I only found out the other day when my courses stopped.’ lied Leliana ‘It would be about a month and half, no?’

‘And you’re certain it is mine?’ asked Cullen dubiously.

‘Of course it is.’ snapped Leliana. Reaching out, she grabbed the templar’s hand tentatively ‘Cullen I realise this is not the way either of us expected things to go. But… I love you. This child, your child, loves you also. All that you ever wanted is right here, if only you would see?’. Leliana cupped the man’s cheek, placing a soft kiss on it ‘You see that, don’t you? You, me, this child. We can be together, united in love. We can be a family.’

The Commander pulled away, disheartened by her words. ‘Forgive me Leliana, I must go and think on this. There is…’. Cullen frowned, his face dismal. ‘…there is a lot I have to think upon.’

‘Of course.’ agreed Leliana ‘Yes I should get some sleep. I’m very tired, as you can imagine? We shall speak soon.’

Drawing closely to the Commander, Leliana placed a kiss on his stiff cheek before turning away. With an urgency in her step, she departed the main hall. Her determination was unyielding as she marched down the icy stairs, almost knocking over several mages that were venturing upwards. There was no time to waste. There was no time. Only one thing was certain.

Leliana needed to conceive a child.


	73. Lies, Lies and More Lies

Pointed elbows on table, he pressed his fingers together and threw a pair of sharp black eyes at his opponent. His manner appeared calm, yet also ruthless. The pieces lay ready, black on his side and white on the other. Perhaps it was unfair to compete when he knew the game was already his, but he didn’t care. Tonight he would be the victor.

‘If you want to gamble with me Varric, you know what you must do?’ Jowan observed politely, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The dwarf groaned, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table. Weighing up the proposal of going up against a mage in chess, he was intent on declining. ‘Come on Riddles, look around the room. Do you see anyone playing chess? Now I’m not saying it’s a terrible game, it the bees knees. A heck of a game. But that’s not the way we do things down here at The Cock and Bull.’

‘Yes I’ve seen the way you do things down here.’ observed Jowan judgementally. He turned his attention to a group of drunken patrons at the side of the inn who were taking turns at throwing a cloth sack towards a target by the wall. ‘Just because one tosses a sand filled bag into a jug for entertainment does not make it right.’. Pushing a large black coin pouch towards the dwarf, the mage raised a brow. ‘There’s twenty-five gold pieces in there.’ he tempted ‘Are you really going to pass up an opportunity like that? Think of all that gold.’

Rubbing his cheek, Varric looked at the pouch with intrigue. It was a very high wager and he was not the type to back down on high wagers. The rogue took a large swig from his flagon before placing it hard on the table. Several pieces scattered across the board and he chuckled.

‘You know it’d be easier if we just played a few hands of Wild Goose.’ pointed out Varric ‘Heck come to think of it, how did you even find a chess board down here? Come on Riddles, seriously, who plays chess in a tavern?’

‘I may have brought my own board.’ observed Jowan, revealing a curl on his lip ‘And I play chess in a tavern. As will you, in a moment.’

‘You know I’ve met some strange types of the years and you’re proving to be one the best.’ laughed Varric ‘You need help. Serious help.’

The mage shrugged, lifting a small goblet of port to his lips. He took a tentative sip, his eyes brightening in the aftermath. ‘That is so strange.’ he exclaimed in surprise, looking curiously at the liquor ‘If I didn’t know better I’d say this tastes exactly like the port I used to drink in Redcliffe.’. He took another sip, looking even more convinced. ‘In fact, perhaps I do know better? This tastes like Eamon’s Guerrin’s Reserve 41, matured in Ferelden redwood barrels.’

Fidgeting in his seat, Varric began to look uneasy. ‘Ah heck Riddles you’ve tried one port, you tried ‘em all. I could make a batch in my bathtub and it’d probably taste the same.’

‘Where did you say this came from?’ asked Jowan suspiciously, his dark eyes narrowing in on the rogue ‘I remember the Arl being quite guarded with his port. Kept it under lock and key as I recall, and he had quite the stash of it too.’

The dwarf ran a hand to his thick neck, rubbing it uneasily. ‘Well…the thing is…’. Varric hesitated, before clapping his hands in approval. ‘Chess it is then!’ he concurred, eager to change the topic.

‘A wise decision, considering all things.’ observed Jowan dryly. He quickly repositioned the pieces on the board ‘You can even go first, if you like?’

Varric idly pushed a pawn forward. ‘Call me crazy but it’s good to be home. Denerim might have character, with its flashy palace and Fort Drakon thrust in your face, but it’s no Skyhold ya know? And between you and me The Gnawed Noble or The Pearl have nothing on The Cock and Bull. We have a wider range of drinks. Better food on offer also, now that Mistress Ruthie is lending us her kitchens. Less nobles too. And none of those damn Blackstone Irregulars hanging around either, thank Andraste. That dopey lot are less fun than the Blight.’

Jowan moved a piece on the board, before taking another sip of his port. ‘Yes but isn’t The Pearl a brothel? You can hardly compare the two.’

‘Hah-hah-hah! You’re a terrible actor Riddles.’ chuckled Varric, moving another piece ‘Is The Pearl a brothel, he asks. Been there a bit, eh? Who did Sanga hook you up with? I hear she keeps some wild ones there. I know this pirate named Isabella who claimed she had a go with a dwarf in drag there. There was plenty more to the story but some things are best left to the imagination.’. Varric laughed, shaking his head ‘The worrying part is knowing her, she probably told me the watered down version of what actually happened.’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘To answer your question, no. I’ve never been to the place, and I assure you it’s not my area of interest or expertise.’

Varric took another swig of ale, wiping his mouth with the back of his hairy arm. ‘Ah come on Riddles it’s imperative that I know every painfully embarrassing personal detail about everyone in Skyhold. You know, being Spymaster and all. It’s my duty to the Inquisition. You gotta have a story or two? Heck you can’t shut up half these bastards about their rolls in the hay.’

The mage threw a cynical look at the rogue. ‘Are you really asking me if I have rolled in hay with someone? Well to sate your curiosity Varric, the answer is no.’

‘Not in Skyhold eh?’ nodded Varric ‘Well it doesn’t help when you’ve got big-burly Curly and dashy-docks Goldilocks to compete with. Those two prancing around doesn’t give any of us much of a break. Still, this old rogue has his bag of tricks. Stick with me and we’ll change your change your luck.’

‘Luck has nothing to do with it.’ answered the mage crisply, refusing to elaborate. Jowan took another sip of his port, sighing tiredly as he beheld an amused look from his companion. ‘You’re not going to drop this are you? If you must know, I fell in love with a woman a very long time ago. She died and since the day we parted I’ve never wanted another person. Never desired one, and never sought to seek one out. No one compares to her and I know no one ever will.’

Varric threw the mage an apologetic look. ‘Ah shit Riddles, look at me running at the mouth without using this damn knocker of mine. I’m sorry buddy.’

Jowan waved his hand, dismissing the apology. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, you weren’t to know. Perhaps I keep my thoughts and feelings a little too guarded, occupational hazard considering my previous line of work. And the current one.’. Jowan shrugged. ‘So Alistair is king now? From what I’d heard he never wanted the role, and for that we can be certain he will be a ruler pure of heart. I applaud the man for having a sense of noblesse oblige.’

The rogue pushed a piece across the board with a frown. ‘Nobles-a-jig what?’

‘A moral obligation that one of high birth holds.’ explained Jowan, moving another piece. ‘To put ones duty before one’s self is indeed a humbling act, as perhaps we are all aware of these days?’. The mage smiled, looking up at the rogue. ‘Checkmate.’

Cursing under his breath, Varric knocked over his king. ‘That was just a warm up. How about best out of three?’

‘Fine but you’re buying.’ smirked Jowan, tapping his empty goblet ‘Another of Eamon’s port, thank you very much. Unless you have his Drakon River Reserve? Which in that case, I’ll have instead.’

Varric tapped his nose and turned away to the bar.

Content and beginning to enjoy himself, Jowan was pleased that he had decided to venture from his chambers that night. He ran his eyes around the room, taking in the liveliness around him. The Iron Bull and his mercenaries were involved in a serious game of Wicked Grace, holding cards close to chests and barely a word being uttered. In the middle of the table lay a small wooden chest that most likely was filled with a rich bounty. In front of the fireplace a pirate wearing a bright red cap sang songs about dragons and wyverns. Shots were being sculled by soldiers, and at the bar brandy was being poured into tiny goblets for a few chamber maids that had the evening off. The heady scent of sticky ale, and wood fire smoke lingered, weaving its way amongst the eager chatter and guffaws of the intoxicated patrons, and the atmosphere was light-hearted and cheerful.

Jowan’s content smile soon melted away, however, as he spotted a ginger haired woman appear in his line of sight, coming towards him with a bottle and two wine goblets. She stopped at the table, smiling down at the mage before her.

‘Finally I’ve found you.’ remarked Leliana pleasantly ‘I’ve brought you a gift from Ferelden.’. Placing the bottle on the table, the spymaster nodded in approval. ‘It’s an old shiraz from the Lothering Chantry vineyard. It claims to be one of the finest wines south of Antiva, and considering the price tag attached you would hope it was.’

‘You came all this way to hand me a rare wine.’ observed Jowan cautiously. He lifted the bottle in his hands, reading the label with interest. ‘One would ask what I did to receive such a bounty? Or perhaps more accurately, what I am about to be asked to do?’

Leliana lifted her eyes to the roof and smiled away the comment. ‘Such suspicion. No, I suppose I deserve that. But indeed I come here in friendship, not work. The last few months have been stressful for us all.’. Noticing Jowan’s raised eye, she corrected herself. ‘Utterly macabre. I know you like fine wines so I thought a little something would help lift your spirits? Especially after the terms we left each other before I set out to Denerim. Consider this an apology?’

Leliana sat down at the table, placing two wine goblets beside the chess board. Picking up the queen, she twirled it about her fingers as she watched the mage quietly.

Shrugging, Jowan returned his attention back to the label on the bottle. ‘Water under the bridge.’. His pale hands pulled at the cork, a loud pop sounding before bringing his nose to the neck of the bottle, inhaling the aroma. Nodding in approval, the mage poured the wine into the empty goblets before him. ‘You are having me watched.’ observed Jowan forthrightly ‘Why?’

Leliana looked up in surprise, not anticipating the sudden question. ‘I suppose that’s what you get when you ask Chantry guards to do the job as opposed to agents.’

Placing the bottle down sharply, Jowan crossed his arms in annoyance. ‘So you admit that you are having me watched?’

‘Yes. I posted guards to watch you, but it was for no sinister reason.’ dismissed the Spymaster ‘You are the Left Hand and there are those that would seek to harm you as much as they would me. I merely assumed you would expect people watching over you in such a role? Cullen gets the same treatment as well. And yes he’s irritated by it, just as you are.’

‘Yes but three guards watching me around the clock.’ retorted Jowan, looking completely unconvinced ‘They are all there when I eat breakfast in the main hall, or when I walk to the gardens in search of botanicals. When I pace the courtyard, work in the tower, read in the library and everywhere in between. I’m certain they’d follow me to the privy if they could fit. Leliana do I appear dim? I know there is something you are not telling me. I can feel it.’

Leliana sighed, shaking her head. ‘Fine,’ she muttered ‘I didn’t want to worry you. But no you’re right, of course you deserve to know the truth. One of my agents received word that your life may be in danger. Namely from the rebels up north in the Anderfels. It is most likely nothing, but I couldn’t leave for Denerim without some peace of mind as to your safety. I appointed the chantry guards to watch over you in a subtle manner. Which, on a side note, is one of their formal duties. I should have told you and I didn’t, so for that I apologise.’

The mage took several sips of the wine, contemplating the news. ‘My life in constant peril, I suppose that is nothing new.’

‘Join the club.’ sighed Leliana ‘Our new roles are the most taxing and unrewarding that you’ll find across Thedas.’ Noticing Jowan’s already finished glass she tapped the bottle with her nail. ‘Another? Maker knows I need another several’

Jowan hesitated, throwing a dubious look at her. ‘Ah…you know I hate to be that person, but you do realise alcohol is nothing more than a poison on the body. It dulls the senses, much similar to a potion of immobility. It has no benefits whatsoever aside from the one purpose we all seek, namely being to dull the senses to a more tolerable state of being.’

Leliana appeared baffled. ‘Is that so?’

Casting his eyes around the room, Jowan drew closer to the woman. ‘Your child Leliana. I would not advise entertaining a poison while you are carrying.’

Growing quiet, she looked away from the mage, taking another several sips of the wine. ‘There is no baby.’ Leliana informed flatly ‘I miscarried just before leaving Skyhold.’

‘Oh I-..’ Jowan remained respectfully quiet on hearing the dismal news, looking down at the chessboard. ‘I am very sorry to hear that’. He threw a sympathetic look to the woman, placing a hesitant hand on hers. ‘I am very sorry for your loss, Leliana. I knew how much you wanted that child.’

Blinking away the moisture in her eyes, Leliana shook her head at the comment. ‘No it’s alright, I promise. Some things are not meant to be, and I knew deep down in my heart that it was wrong. Cullen and I should not be together and I should most definitely not be having his child.’

‘What about the prophecy?’ asked the mage quietly.

‘Jowan do you remember that conversation we had in the carriage just after we had been initiated into the Chantry? All those months ago when I decided to let Cullen go? It was right thing to do. You said it yourself. How can I live my life, day in day out, entertaining illusions? The wise can hold faith, but so can the foolish. And I know deep down that I cannot bear a child on a whim. With so much to do as it is and with this reality now before us, I will not pursue falsehoods. And with a man like Cullen, who clearly has little regard for me? No Jowan, I don’t want a man like that.’

The mage nodded pensively, looking into his cup. ‘It takes a strong will to break away from something that you hold dear. I applaud you for it. And for what it is worth, I believe everything happens for a reason. The good and the bad, and in turn either can transform into something quite the opposite.’. Jowan threw her a sad look ‘Did you end up telling Cullen?’

‘I told him of the child but not yet that I have lost it.’ informed the Spymaster ‘I would ask you to keep this news to yourself. Do not mention it to Cullen, or anyone else for that matter. Anyone. I would wish to tell him in my own time when I am ready. Please swear this to me Jowan.’

‘Of course,’ nodded Jowan ‘you have my word.’

Slouching in her chair, she drew her chin to her palm and rested, a curl of hair idly running around her finger. ‘It’s funny really, you and I.’ observed Leliana.

Taking another sip of wine, Jowan shook his head. ‘What’s funny?’

‘The way we both were resurrected by the Maker and then put in these ridiculous roles that we never asked for. Shoes we are forced to walk in.’

‘Leliana that is the opposite of funny.’ observed Jowan, rolling his eyes ‘In fact it’s a little melancholic.’

The Spymaster looked amused. ‘Perhaps, but you have to admit it’s not often to have something like that in common with another? We share a bond, Jowan. And you forget that I was Left Hand once, just as you are now. Faced with the same troubles that you now face.’

‘The same dilemmas?’ asked Jowan dubiously ‘With the same reactions?’

Leliana shook her head. ‘I could lie and say of course, but I feel we are beyond that. Divine Justinia was so kind and compassionate, and when I was asked to perform the darker acts that a Left Hand was required to do I was…saddened.’

‘Saddened?’ frowned Jowan.

Leliana nodded. ‘Absolutely. It was as if everything I admired about the woman was a lie. She was pure sunlight in my eyes, but I refused to acknowledge that even Divines are made of both light and shadow. Instead of seeing that, I decided to keep her image untainted by agreeing to take on all that darkness for her. Justinia in the light…and me always in the darkness.’. She sighed, taking a sip of wine. ‘Sorry, feel free to ignore my drivelous ranting tonight.’

‘What’s that?’ teased Jowan, chuckling as Leliana playfully glared at him. ‘No I understand Leliana, and I appreciate your openness. Perhaps I should do the same in turn? If I had to be honest with you, the Left Hand does feel like a role of darkness. A role that I do not enjoy one little bit. And for that reason I feel trapped and miserable. There, now it is said. Now you know.’

‘Perhaps that is the way things have always been, but that does not mean they have to be.’ observed Leliana compassionately ‘If we can resolve conflict without the blade, then surely we should? We should be the change we want to see across Thedas. Jowan, you deserve a role that you are proud to serve in. From now on your role as the Left Hand will be one of mediation, not murder. Respect, not shame. It is the least I can do, for both our sakes.’

Jowan looked completely surprised. He held his glass mid-air and contemplated the words that held more promise than he had ever considered possible. ‘I’d….appreciate that. To serve as Left Hand but to serve it with a clean conscious. Not as a mere thug.’

‘Then that is what you will have.’ smiled Leliana.

Jowan ran his hands through his black hair, a wave of relief sweeping over him as he threw back a smile. ‘Thank you Leliana, you really don’t know how much that has been weighing on my mind.’

Leliana placed a gentle hand on his arm. ‘Thank you for your kind words. It must sound pathetic but I don’t experience it often. So…thank you.’

‘Not pathetic, not at all.’ dismissed Jowan, a sad smile on his face. ‘So another drink then?’

‘If only.’ sighed Leliana, standing up begrudgingly ‘Unfortunately I have a more work to attend to, so I will wish you a good night. I’m glad I found you though. Enjoy the wine’. The spymaster raised her finger, a sudden thought coming to mind. ‘Oh before I forget that reminds me, I need to ride out to Lydes in a few days time. And if you don’t mind I need you to ride out with me also? Naturally it’s just mundane chantry politics, but we’ve received an invitation from the Orlesian house of Laurent. They would serve as a powerful ally so it’s imperative we pay them a visit.’

Jowan smiled, nodding in agreement. ‘Of course Leliana, it would be my pleasure.’

With a cheerful smile Leliana turned away, her face drawing back into a gloomy glower as she exited the makeshift tavern.

****

‘Michel I need to talk to you about us. This isn’t going to be easy. And I’m sorry. No really. You see there is no right way to say this. And-and…ummm...ugh I’m the biggest idiot in Thedas.’. Turning away from the oval cheval mirror where I’d been practicing what to say, I slumped onto my bed in defeat. I hadn’t even confronted the man yet and it was not going well. ‘Son of a biscuit eater!’ I cursed, running my hands through my brown hair. ‘Okay if first I don’t succeed, go ahead and fail a second time. Here we go again. Michel, I need to talk to you about us. You see-‘

‘Ophelia.’

I yelped in surprise, seeing Cullen standing at the top of stairs that led up to my chambers. He looked at me with his no-nonsense face; a crease on his brow, a firm jaw and an emotionless pair of lips.

‘Cullen!’ I cried out in protest, jumping off the bed ‘Knock me down with feather, you scared the bejangles out of me! Don’t you knock anymore? You do realise you can do that with the door over there? You know, bang on it until the person on the other side opens it?’

The Commander looked completely distracted, and appeared to only half hear what I was saying. ‘Yes I’m fine.’ he muttered swiftly, drawing his hand to the stairs ‘Ophelia I must speak with you. Walk with me?’

Throwing him a baffled look, I reached for my coat. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? Is something wrong?’ 

Cullen had already commenced his way out of the chambers, so I quickly followed on. Amber eyes fixated ahead, he remained silent as his boots paced fast. Struggling to keep up I wondered whether Cullen realised he had company? He looked so very far away, lost in his thoughts. The loud chatter from the main hall filled my ears as I narrowly dodged shoulder charging half a dozen residents. We swiftly left the main hall and Cullen continued to lead across the courtyard. The cobblestones were slippery, covered with ice from a bout of winter weather that Solas referred to refreshing. Refreshing or not, it was cold, dark and I was about to land arse over teakettle on the courtyard. Why hadn’t I just locked my chamber door?

Cullen began to ascend the stairs leading to the battlements and as he reached the top I grabbed his hand in protest, pulling him back towards me.

‘Cullen wait a moment I beg you. What in the blazes in going on?’ I gasped, trying to catch my breath ‘Has something happened?’

Noticing several guards to our right, Cullen grabbed my hand and set off left along the battlements towards his study. Finally he halted before his door, in a small private part of the battlements. His eyes sharpened, the lost glaze that he had been holding for the entire trip now fading away. Cullen was agitated, that much was clear. Running his hand along the parapet, he chipped at the stone with his nails. Digging and scratching. Something was eating away at him, I could see that much.

‘Cullen?’

The Commander sighed heavily, resting his hands against the parapet as he looked out onto the black horizon. The flame of the torches on the battlements lit his otherwise darkened expression, the light dancing on his chiselled features. He looked disheartened and distracted, as if the weight of the realm lay heavy on his shoulders.

‘Something terrible has happened and I fear once you know, everything will change.’ he informed seriously. His eyes were filled with regret, turning as he silently looked upon me. ‘You must know that I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted this to happen. You need to know that. Maker knows I am now burdened with such a sorrow that I never thought possible. A truth that I cannot accept, not matter how much I must accept it.’

Whatever the man was referring to, it sounded dire. And as with all bad news being heralded my way, I just wanted it over and done with. Placing a reassuring hand on his arm, I threw the man nod. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me.’

The Commander looked back to the view ahead, his jaw clenched. ‘Leliana-’. He stopped, choking on the words before continuing once more. ‘Leliana spoke to me just then in the hall. She told me….she is with child. She informed me of this happy event just as I was telling her about you and I, ironically.’

My face fell dark as I felt a heaviness in my stomach. The despair of Cullen filling me. It was there within me that felt cold and empty. A place where dreams went to die.

She is with child.

Such horrid little words that taunted and teased me, knowing Leliana now possessed the dream I had once dreamt. How could the joyous news of one person feel so hopeless in the eyes of another? Turning my eyes ahead, I stared out blankly.

‘She got what she wanted then?’ I observed softly ‘After all this time she finally got it.’

‘The fault is mine, there is no point in me playing the victim here.’ acknowledged Cullen soberly ‘Yet I cannot help but feel the wounded party also.’

My eyes wanted to look at the man but I couldn’t. In fact they fell to the ground and remained there as I asked the question. ‘Did you agree to conceive a child with her?’

Cullen scoffed. ‘Of course not! I’ve always been very clear that I never wanted a child with her. She knew that. Now she claims this is an accident and who am I to say otherwise? I played my part in this, I accept it. I tempted fate and ultimately this is the price I must now pay.’. Cullen turned to me, his voice softening. ‘To say I am utterly aghast by this news would be an understatement. Yet I cannot imagine what you must be feeling right now?’

What was I feeling? Should I have been angry? Sad? Hurt? Jealous? Was the protocol to scream and shout, beating my hands against his chest demanding to know why why WHY!??? Would the shameless lack of control of my emotions change anything? Would it change the way I felt for Cullen? Would it change anything to succumb to anything other than the harsh reality? That Leliana was having Cullen’s child.

Tears in my eyes, I turned to the Commander and wrapped my arms around man’s neck, pulling him close to me. My hands held tighter and tighter, determined that I wouldn’t lose him to this. I would not let him go. Perhaps if I held on with dear life then I would never have to.

‘I’m so sorry.’ murmured Cullen, pulling me tight against his chest, his head nestled in my shoulder. ‘Shhh. I promise you everything will be okay.’

For all his comfort, that left me melting into his arms, I could also hear a sadness in his voice, silent tears from a pain that he now held. Cullen didn’t want this, and yet again he had started down a path that would cause him more pain. One that promised more heartbreak and more bitter memories.

‘I love you so much.’ whispered Cullen softly, holding me tight. Stroking my hair through his fingers, he placed soft kisses on my brow. ‘I never wanted to do this to you Ophelia, you must know that. I never wanted you to watch me have a child with another woman. And Maker help me, I don’t want to lose you over it.’

‘Must you lose me?’ I asked, looking up at him as he cradled my face.

Doubt crossed the Commanders face, searching for some mishap in my words. As if he hadn’t dared hoped there would be any other result than me leaving him. ‘Andraste preserve me, if this is some wicked game to crush my heart know that you’ve won.’ he declared ‘No Ophelia, you must listen to me. I know what this news would be doing to you. I wouldn’t force you into that sadness you felt when we were together before. Where Leliana was in my life and you were slowly driven mad by it.’. His eyes grew dark, casting them aside ‘For now she is in my life for good. We share a bond through this child. Ophelia, I wouldn’t force you to live a life like that. If you could find your peace elsewhere…with whoever else…I wouldn’t stand in the way of that. I wouldn’t take that from you. It pains me, but I swear it nonetheless. What has happened here is my mistake, not yours, and you shouldn’t have to carry that burden around with you.’

Drawing my lips to Cullen’s, I kissed the man. The feeling of his soft lips on mine, my hands caressing his strong neck and muscular shoulders, running over feather and steel. Every part of him so familiar and yet so wildly untamed and unknown. Savage and brutal, yet loving and passionate. A Commander and a lover, a templar and a father. There were parts of him I desperately craved and desperately feared. Yet in my mind there was no decision to be made. 

‘Cullen I’m right where I want to be. Whatever happens, I’m here with you.’

The man looked at me in surprise, and succumbing to his affection Cullen pushed me firm against the stone parapet, falling into a deep and passionate kiss. His hands ran urgently through my hair and along my neck, lightly touching either side, tracing his large fingers in tantalising swirls down my shoulders. A pair of hungry templar lips fell on my neck, tasting and savouring over and over, the delicate lap of his warm tongue teasing and licking ever so softly

‘Maker how I want you.’ he murmured, his kisses growing rougher. His teeth playfully sunk in my shoulder, relishing the sensation of bone on flesh before releasing. ‘Will you come to me now?’ he asked ‘Surrender to me in my bed. I need to worship you and bind you. Lick, tease, rub, fuck and whatever else I want.’

‘I haven’t told Michel about us yet.’ I murmured between kisses.

‘You don’t think he’d approve of me sinking my hard cock into you and fucking you senseless?’ he growled ‘Sod him, he doesn’t need to know.’

Cullen’s hands began to move under my top, his aroused eyes flashing into mine, where he noticed a look of protest.

‘Fine,’ groaned Cullen ‘but you don’t get off free of charge.’

Cullen playfully growled as his hands ran to my belt, deft fingers unbuckling the said garment. His hands plunged in, reaching for my clit before I even had time to protest.

‘Cull-‘

The Commander’s lips fell onto mine, preventing me from speaking as his fingers began to move across my cunt, massaging and rubbing in deliberate strokes. My back arched as I drowned in his deep kisses, opening myself up to his pleasuring and the man took the offering to his full advantage. His frosty breath exhaled heavily in arousal as his fingers explored, his forehead leaning on mine as he plunged two fingers up into me, rubbing the wetness across my lips.

‘You’re so aroused.’ he murmured huskily ‘You have no idea how much I missed feeling your sweet honey between my fingers. Maker how I want to taste you. Let me take these trousers off.’

‘We have to stop.’ I protested, running my aroused and glazed eyes across the empty battlements.

‘No, just a moment longer.’ ordered the Commander.

Cullen continued to rub my throbbing clit that was growing more and more aroused by his attentive fingers. I moaned, succumbing to his touch. My hands ran over the soft material of his crotch, feeling a hard erection running up towards his lower abdomen. Cullen exhaled in pleasure upon feeling my hands on his cock, and his ministrations grew faster.

‘That’s the way.’ encouraged Cullen, revealing an aroused smile between kisses ‘Come hard Ophelia. Surrender to me.’

His fingers teased my labia again, pressing deeply along the skin and edging around my swollen clit, tormenting it with light strokes. Again his mouth fell on mine, and I moaned into it as he continued to rub the delicate nub.

Increasing his pace, the Commander began to tease me faster now. His mouth covered my neck in kisses, ravishing me as his hands strummed my clit, faster and faster until I began to cry out. Cullen quickly covered my mouth with his, plunging his tongue with a deep kiss and fingers deep in my cunt as I came hard. He moaned at the sensation, pushing deeper and deeper.

Cullen drew a deep breath and exhaled in pleasure, withdrawing from me with a pleased smile. ‘Well that was pleasant.’ he remarked mischievously ‘Fancy some wild hot sex now?’

Perhaps he was joking but everything part of me want to say yes. Yet I knew what I had to do first. ‘I told you, I haven’t told Michel about us.’ I moaned.

Upon hearing my reply Cullen clutched his chest in pretend agony, placing several more kisses lingering kisses on my mouth before pulling away. ‘So that was what I walked in on before.’ chuckled the Commander ‘Just between you and I, you’re a terrible actress Ophelia.’

‘Knock on the door next time, it wasn’t a free performance’ I retorted, readjusting my clothes. Slumping down on the stone floor, I leant back against the parapet wall. The brief escape of pleasure had made me forget for a moment about the terrible reality we now faced.

‘You need to be prepared.’ I warned ‘Leliana will use this baby to control you. This child is a piece of you, and you will love it. I have no doubt.’. A furrow on my brow, the words echoed in my head. 

‘Ophelia?’

Jolting back to reality, I continued. ‘But the moment you do start loving this child, Leliana will see it as your weakness and will be intent on using it to her advantage. You must be prepared Cullen. There will be no limits with her, and that is what scares me.’

The Commander joined me at my side, easing himself down a little uncomfortably in his armour. ‘Now there’s the truth if ever I heard it.’ he muttered ‘Leliana will be ruthless. In her delusional head she believes we can now be one big happy family.’. Shaking his head, Cullen lifted his eyes above him. ‘Maker help me. No ironically I can’t even ask him anymore. Considering who his favourite is these days, I’d say I’m about to make a terrible enemy.’

I was hesitant to ask the question, but it ran through my head until I conceded. ‘Do you…do you think Leliana is dangerous? Should we be worried?’

‘Yes.’ answered Cullen adamantly ‘I don’t doubt it for a moment.’

‘Perfect.’ I muttered.

‘She’s a brilliant spymaster. A genius at her work. However her emotions always have been, how would you say, a little unhinged. That’s what happens when you’ve been hardened to an inch of your life. You find yourself capable of anything without too much concern on how it is done or who gets hurt along the way. Then you have to consider that she has worked as an assassin for the better part of her life, dealing in death like a merchant trades oranges at the market. Add the fact that she is emotionally attached to me like a favourite nug.’. Cullen rolled his eye ‘And yes, I do feel like one at the moment believe you me. Well all of that makes her extremely dangerous.’

Casting the templar a look of desperation, I added softly ‘Damn.’

‘Yes damn indeed.’ muttered Cullen ‘In some absurd twist of fate my only comfort is that you are the Inquisitor and we need you alive to seal the breeches. Leliana knows that. However one day…’. He looked at me with concern ‘Ophelia I cannot vouch for your safety, but I can swear that I will do everything in my power to protect you. To shield you from her.’

Assurances or not, I knew there was no convincing the Spymaster. ‘But Leliana thinks you and her are a family now?’

The Commander ran his finger across his steel pauldron pensively. ‘Believe me when I say I’m not too unfamiliar with the cards at hand. When I was appointed Knight-Captain in Kirkwall, I got my first taste of training men and women. Most were obedient and wanted to do their job, but occasionally you’d get a defiant one. Some mutinous rotter that didn’t want to follow orders or be told what to do. That is when I would have to make them learn who was in charge.’. Clenching his hand, he held it tight. ‘You need to rule with an iron fist or lose control. And if you haven’t noticed already, I do not take pleasure in losing control.’. With a stern look, Cullen nodded to himself ‘Too long has she tried to power play me and too long have I been lenient with her. No more.’

‘She’s manipulative and she had your child.’ I observed flatly ‘It’s a recipe for disaster.’

‘I told Leliana that I would not abandon her or the child. I hope you can respect my duty as a father in years to come, no matter how much it may hurt you. I am responsible for another life now. As to her manipulation, I can only do what all manipulators hate the most. Know my boundaries, get used to telling Leliana no and make her realise there are consequences to her actions.’

‘And throw her in the Kirkwall gallows every now and then for insubordination?’ I mused.

Cullen tilted his head suggestively ‘No I intend on saving my punishment for you and you alone.’ he replied in a low voice ‘We could go now and start if you like?’

My eyes narrowed. ‘Michel, remember?’

‘It was worth a try.’ chuckled Cullen, resting his head against the wall. The man breathed in the night air, exhaling a little more calmly now.

‘It’s the right thing to do, naturally.’ I agreed ‘You know I wouldn’t come between you and your child. I hope you know that?’

Patting my hand, Cullen nodded. ‘Maker I am thankful you have a good heart. Knowing Leliana she will be demanding of my time. Again, I hope you can respect what I need to do. There will be no intimacy between us. No happy family as she depicts. But I suspect a little patience will be required from everyone in days to come.’

‘Unless that is what you want?’ I added softly, only half listening to the man ‘That happy family is there for you if you wish it?’

Cullen nodded sagely. ‘Perhaps one day that is what I want. A day when my sword is no longer needed and collecting dust beside my bed. Perhaps then I could start thinking of that possibility.’. He looked at me sincerely ‘With you, Ophelia. One day I want that with you.’

Nodding silently, I looked down at the cracks on the stone floor. ‘Cullen I’m tired of entertaining what might be. All we have. All we ever truly have is the here and now. Let’s focus on that from now.’

‘That sounds like a good idea Ophelia.’ murmured Cullen, looking up at the stars and clouds above.

Eyes to the ground, there was nothing more to be said on the matter. The here and now was crystal clear. Cullen and Leliana were having a baby.


	74. The Old Ways

Quickly she made her way through the darkness. The hour was late but the night was never over. Not with so much to plan with so little time at hand. Her green eyes counted the steps as she climbed to the second level of the keep. Forty-four…forty-five…forty six…. It was here that some people in Skyhold were housed, namely one in particular that she sought council with at this late hour. Along the hallway she travelled, passing tired wooden door after tired wooden door until she came to the third last one on the right. She knocked lightly and then harder, impatient to speak to the person on the other side.

The door opened a crack, and a pair of annoyed dark brown eyes appeared. ‘Will you keep quiet, Kieran is sleeping.’ Morrigan hissed ‘Can this not wait until the morning?’

Leliana crossed her arms, her foot planted firmly in-between the door space. ‘No, I must speak with you now.’ she informed.

‘Is Skyhold on fire?’ asked Morrigan sharply ‘Is Corypheus swooping up the hall as we speak? For if the answer is no then this can wait until tomorrow.’

The Spymaster tilted her head, as if warning the women not to test her.

Sighing impatiently, Morrigan muttered something under her breath. ‘Fine, give me a moment. I’ll meet you at the gazebo in the garden, we can speak there.’

Leliana nodded and departed promptly. As she exited the keep she was met with a chilled winter’s night. The sky was dark with the waning moon all but a sliver in the sky. She scouted the area several times, determined there be no ears listening and no eyes watching. Everything that Leliana intended to discuss with Morrigan would remain secret.

The soft sound of footsteps approaching alerted her attention, and there wrapped in a black fringed shawl came Morrigan. She held a crooked smile on her lips, as mocking as the first time Leliana beheld the woman in the tavern, Dane’s Refuge, in Lothering. All those years ago….

‘There is a saying about guests that wish to be entertained after midnight.’ observed the witch of the wilds ‘Lover, drunkard and brigand only come knocking before dawn. ‘Tis questionable as to which one might you be?’

‘The friend that offered you shelter and employment at Skyhold when you had few places to go.’ answered the Spymaster sharply ‘It is now I that seeks a favour.’

Morrigan threw a curious brow, her interest snared. ‘And from the look on your ghostly little face I would guess it is a delicate matter?’

Leliana ran a hand to her cold cheek, the frost of her breathe coming out in chilled plumes. ‘Morrigan we know each other well enough to not play games, yes? I need your help.’

‘You have my full attention.’ informed the witch patiently, if not a little smugly.

With the discomfort that comes from telling the explicit truth, Leliana proceeded to tell Morrigan of her visions from the Maker, and of the child she was to conceive. She recounted the story of Jowan and how he came to be her Left Hand. Of Cullen’s child that she had terminated, and of the one she wished to conceive with Jowan. Morrigan remained quiet, attentively listening to the entire affair with her undivided attention until the very last detail was complete.

‘So you see, I need your help.’ informed Leliana ‘I know you have ways to ensure a child is conceived. As you intentionally conceived Kieran with Alistair on the night before the arch demon was destroyed.’

Her brown eyes flickered with a hint of anger, yet Morrigan’s face remained emotionless. ‘And may I ask how you come to believe such a thing occurred between Alistair and I?’ she asked quietly ‘Was it Alistair that said something?’

The Spymaster revealed a knowing smile. ‘Sierra told Zevran, who then told me.’

‘How nice of them.’ observed Morrigan crisply ‘Perhaps in future I should remember that dead men tell no tales.’

‘Your secret is safe with me.’ reassured Leliana.

The witch laughed at the comment. ‘Were I to believe that, it would hardly change matters. Despite my hopes it would be otherwise, I always knew a time would come when I could not keep Kieran hidden from the world. Or of where he came from.’. She stretched her arms leisurely, breathing in the night air before being distracted by the Spymaster’s unwavering stare. ‘Really Leliana, must I be the one to say it?’ asked Morrigan abruptly.

Leliana held her cold stare. ‘Tell me what?’

‘You have an irritating knack of causing trouble for yourself.’ Morrigan observed ‘I can spare you the woe by telling you right now that the Maker is no more real than the Ogopogo or that silly shape shifting goblin that little children think dwell under their beds. This Chantry nonsense and self-serving attention seeking act that you have been playing over the years is getting old. You weaselled your way into our party at Lothering all those years ago, in a blaze of religious nuttery, and look what happened in the end? You ended up dead. It’s time to wake up and join the rest of Thedas.’

The Spymaster scorned at the comment, running irritated hands through her hair. ‘Morrigan I was resurrected by the Maker. Twice. You saw with your very own eyes what Sierra did to me the first time. The second time the entire keep and Great Cathedral in Orlais witnessed my lifeless body. Who else revived me if not the Maker?’

The witch caught Leliana’s eye, a hint of concern revealing itself. ‘A most worthy question. For if not your sparkling fabricated Maker, I would ask who has the power to resurrect you and Jowan from the dead? And why?’

‘It was the Maker who resurrected us.’ informed Leliana sternly, unwilling to entertain the woman’s doubt any further ‘He did it for the purpose to bear this child. The Maker’s chosen one.’

Morrigan rolled her eyes. ‘Let us suppose I can ensure a child is conceived if you consummate with Jowan? Let us suppose that it can be done? Would you approve of the old ways that I would use? The loop in your hole would most definitely not be something I imagine the Maker would approve, nor the Divine.’

‘Lucky then that I never was the traditionalist.’ observed Leliana flatly.

Morrigan held a wicked smile. ‘My thoughts exactly. Very well. The old ways I speak of is a ritual from a time long before the Circle of Magi was created. ‘Tis ancient wisdom. Some, I imagine, would call it blood magic. It matters not. My mother knew of it, and I learnt it from her. So here we are. I possess something that you want, would that be correct?’

The spymaster’s eyes narrowed, understanding all too well what Morrigan was implying. ‘Naturally if you were to aid me in this request I would be in your debt. Is there anything that comes to mind Morrigan?’

Morrigan plucked the leaf off a nearby bush, twirling it between her fingers with a frown. ‘Ferelden has a new king and we both know that means my son is now first in line to that pesky little throne. No matter what happens, Kieran will always be first in line. I want your word that if ever a day comes when that Grey Warden buffoon of a king comes asking for Kieran, you will ensure he is protected. You have the power to do that, I am certain.’

‘That can be arranged.’ agreed Leliana ‘Do we have a deal then?’

Morrigan nodded. ‘You have my thanks. And my help.’

‘Now what must we do to ensure a child is conceived?’ asked Leliana somewhat impatiently.

The witch twisted a lock of her hair around her finger, running it around and around. ‘The night you lay with Jowan, I shall perform an old ritual and a child will be conceived within you. In fact there is little you need to do, aside from the obvious. I will take you through the steps that you must perform before the act, and the ones after. By the end of the ritual you will be with child.’

‘How soon can you perform this ritual?’ asked Leliana ‘Is there a certain time of the month that is better for these things?’

Morrigan shook her head. ‘No this is old magic, it will work whenever you perform it. Of course, from what you have just told me Jowan may not be entirely ready to perform at a drop of a hat? He is no lover of yours, is he?’

‘I’m afraid not.’. Leliana frowned, leaning against the stone column tiredly ‘Time is not something I have to win over his heart, yet I need him to play his part immediately.’

‘And you did not think honesty would be an appropriate way to secure your goal?’ asked Morrigan judgementally. ‘Perhaps he would see reason, were you to give him the chance?’

Leliana scoffed at the comment. ‘Was your sense of morality obtained before or after you bedded Sierra’s lover in order to secure a child with the spirit of an Old God?’

‘’Tis unwise to insult the magical hand that promises to aid you.’ observed the witch quietly ‘Besides, my intentions were made perfectly clear to Alistair. He accepted and we conceived a child.’

The Spymaster looked troubled. If her predictions were correct, it would be hard to convince the mage to join her in her bed. ‘Jowan would never agree to it in the short run. Perhaps the price was too high for Alistair to refuse? He wanted to live. He wanted Sierra to live. But Jowan? There is nothing I could tempt him with to ensure he gave me this child. Not even life, or the threat of losing it. Nothing would tempt him.’

Morrigan brushed her hands together, decidedly coming to a decision. ‘Then you will have to seduce the man. Well you will be pleased to know my mother was an expert at that as well.’

‘Pleased or extremely troubled?’ observed Leliana with a grimace.

‘Flemeth had a knack for luring men into her web.’ informed Morrigan ‘Like a Black Widow. Her tricks were passed down to me. How lucky for me? I thankfully do not savour the delicacies she took delight in, but nevertheless her methods are now in my mind.’

Leliana clasped her hands together, as if silently willing her companion. Perhaps even begging. ‘I will need any help you can give. Morrigan until I have this child, Jowan is more important than anyone in Thedas. He is the father of the Maker’s chosen. And unfortunately already he is suspicious of me. Considering how valuable he is, I had to post guards to watch over him and he called me up on it tonight. The trust is thin and I cannot do anything to make it thinner.’

Morrigan pulled back a guilty strand of hair from her face. ‘’Tis unfortunate that he noticed such things.’

‘Don’t worry,’ remarked Leliana confidently ‘Maker knows I’ve tried to win back his trust now. I’ve even resorted to changing the role of the Left Hand just to appease him. Pandering to his every word and agreeing with his tender notions of a righteous path. It is ridiculous, but I will do whatever it takes.’

‘Words are cheap at the end of the day, it will be his actions that you need.’ observed Morrigan ‘No matter, the methods will work. He will conceive a child with you.’

Leliana felt relieved and yet until she knew for certain that she was with child, there would be no appeasement. ‘In a few days I plan to take Jowan with me on a trip to Lydes. I have mentioned that we need to meet with an Orlesian family, and he is willing to attend. Will you come with us Morrigan? Will you ensure that I conceive this child with Jowan on this trip away?’

Morrigan frowned. ‘What of Kieran? I cannot just leave him for days on end whilst I help you sleep with your Left Hand. And no, I do not want your preachy chantry subjects watching over him. He’d be better off with the wolves in the forest.’

‘My most trusted attendant is an Orlesian chamber maid that works here. She has two of her own children, and I promise you she’ll look after Kieran beyond reproach whilst we are away. Morrigan please, this is urgent and the deed needs to be done as soon as possible.’

Morrigan looked as if she was about to refuse but on mention of her son, and perhaps his shaky future as the next king of Ferelden, she changed her mind. ‘Fine,’ agreed Morrigan, turning back towards the keep ‘I suppose I shall start preparing then.’

****

At the edge of the forest just outside Skyhold, I sat on a large grey mountain stone. An overcast sky threatened rain and perhaps it was fitting considering the circumstances? Carving a heart into the rock face with my blunt dirk, the chalky white outline appeared in its perfect shape. Love. A concept so simple and yet so very very complex. It was here that I’d asked Michel to meet me. It was here that I had to tell him the truth.

The midday sun passed into the afternoon position, and still I waited. He was running very late but I wasn’t angry. Had the tables been turned I would most likely have never shown up. Who wanted to arrive early to someone telling them it was time to part ways?

The soldiers at the gate were laughing loudly in the distance, busy in banter with a man that had just passed through. I would have been uncertain as to who it was but the blond hair of the figure in armour told me it was Michel. For several minutes he spoke with the guards, before continuing on towards our meeting place.

Heart pounding, I silently waited.

Finally Michel approached, quietly taking a place beside me on the rock. He pretended to be interested in the view of the forest, running his eyes across the trees. But as I looked across I noticed they were sad eyes and at that moment I knew I was too late. He already knew.

‘It surprised me when I read your note to meet you here.’ observed Michel softly ‘Of all the places in and around this keep I would have guessed this is your least favourite?’. His blue eyes moved towards the trees. ‘That being where you saw Cullen and Mabel once upon a time. Together in this forest. You were devastated and I held you as you wept. That was the first time that I spoke to you in elvish and revealed a part of me that I had held secret. It was the first time that you opened yourself up to me. About your life and the sadness that you had experienced. You fell asleep in my arms and I swore that I would never be the one who would let go of your hand.’

Michel looked down at his empty palm.

‘You’re going back to Cullen, aren’t you?’ he added sadly, nodding his head at my silence. ‘I suspected as much after Denerim. The way things have been, and the way you and he both left that evening at the palace. I did not want to believe it but then there was this note, asking me to meet you at a place such as this.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ I murmured sadly, sheathing my dirk at my side. ‘I wanted to be honest with you Michel. You must hate me and you have every right.’

The knight looked disappointed, simply nodding at the words that held no real substance. Blue eyes drawn to the ground, his blonde hair fell down around his brow. ‘Was it something that I did?’ he asked quietly ‘Or something that I didn’t do?’

‘There were my own insecurities about never being what you wanted. Never being good enough. But they were only my insecurities. You did nothing wrong Michel. You treated me with love and respect.’

The Chevalier looked confused. Hurt. ‘Then why? he asked ‘You were in love with me? We had dreams Ophelia, dreams for our life together. We swore a love so sweet that poets would have envied us. What could have happened?’

Looking at the man apologetically, I knew I had to be honest. ‘Cullen. Cullen happened.’

The Orlesian looked away, apparently angered at the answer. ‘Cullen.’ he repeated darkly ‘A man who has trampled over your heart and spirit and yet you would still seek his attention? A man that beds other women whilst being with you? A man that once demanded your execution, finally forcing you to flee and live as a thief in Kirkwall? A man that chastises you and berates you and yells at you with no consideration of his actions? Is this the sort of man that you want?’

‘Yes.’ I answered softly.

Running his palms over his eyes, Michel looked beside himself. ‘Never have I seen an abuser have such a hold over someone. I don’t know whether to be angry with you or feel sad for you?’

The observation made me stand up in annoyance. In offence. For that was not what Cullen was to me. That was not who Cullen was. ‘You’re angry, I get it. I’m sorry I am ending what we had and I’m sorry for hurting you, but these things happen with couples. I never wanted to disappoint you.’

The man opened his arms to me, as if appealing to my senses. ‘Then don’t! Think of the reasons you left Cullen in the first place, and then ask yourself what has changed? A little time? A few arguments between us over Orlesian food and my Uncle’s behaviour? Cullen is still with Leliana, we all know that. How many times have we seen them together? Open your eyes Ophelia, I beg you. They are lovers. Nothing has changed.’

What could I say? No matter how much I protested he would never agree. ‘You’re wrong, Cullen is no longer with her.’ I replied softly.

Michel looked completely unconvinced at my statement. ‘Then that is that then?’ observed the Chevalier ‘I have one more question. Did Cullen ask you to come back to him, or was it you?’

Hesitating, I failed to see the relevancy. However there was some sense of obligation to answer the man that I was hurting.

‘It was Cullen.’ I replied.

Michel shook his head, holding a bitter expression. ‘I never doubted it.’ remarked the Chevalier ‘If that is all I will return to Skyhold now. Thank you Ophelia for finally letting me know where I stand.’

Without a second glance the knight turned away, heading back towards the main gates of Skyhold. With his head held high he walked onwards, throwing a pleasant wave to the soldiers who greeted him in the distance.


	75. The Point of a Blade

‘You there, there’s a shield in your hand. Block with it.’ yelled the Commander. Turning his attention to another group of soldiers further along the training circle, he pointed his sword firmly. ‘Mitchell, Smith, Patterson. Be on the offence. Offence?! Did you hear me?! It’s not a blasted retreat!’. The Commander groaned, noticing the sloppy technique before him. ‘Lieutenant Burns, fix their footwork.’. Hand firm on his hilt, the Commander proceeded to march over to several soldiers by the fence. ‘Soldiers, show me parry left and then parry right.’ he ordered.

The recruits fumbled with their swords, several stepping back on their left foot while others just shuffled about, looking entirely dumb founded by the order.

Cullen nodded patiently, grasping his long sword steadily with two hands. ‘Parry left is as follows’ he instructed, stepping securely back on his left foot ‘Pull your hilt to waist level on your left side whilst the tip of the sword always faces your opponent.’. Holding his sword in front once more, he stepped back on his right foot and drew the sword to his right side ‘Parry right means you always draw your hilt to the right side of your waist, and always ensure your wrist turns so the blade is facing up. Like this. Understood? Now show me parry left and then parry right.’

In a line the recruits now performed the positions perfectly, looking over to each other delight when they realised they had got it right.

Cullen nodded, a small smile on his lips. ‘Good work. Now divide into pairs. One person will thrust straight while the other parries left. Then switch over so the other has a go. And then do the same again to practice your parry right.’

Again several of the recruits looked confused by the command.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Cullen turned away. ‘Okay one moment.’ he muttered. Looking across the training circle, the Commander searched for another trainer to aid him in his demonstration. Lieutenant Burns was yelling at several soldiers, pointing at their feet as they jumped from side to side. Lieutenant Ross was currently predisposed, hanging precariously off a nearby trebuchet whilst attempting to tighten a loose screw. Another mentor, Dale Finnigan, was teaching, or rather yelling, at a group of recruits holding shields. And then there was the Maister of Blades, patiently overseeing a group of archers who were trying to shoot the red centre of the circular hay targets lined by the wall of the keep.

Cullen turned back to his confused group of recruits who continued to stare blankly at him.

‘Commander, how exactly do you thrust when someone is going to parry?’ asked the young recruit ‘Is that just another word for hacking the other with a sword?’

‘Crikey that’s a bit dangerous, isn’t it?’ protested another recruit, turning a fearful eye ‘Look at our blades! They’re all sharp.’

‘Maker’s Breath.’ muttered Cullen, drawing back to the closest mentor at hand. ‘Michel.’ he called out, gaining the attention of the Orlesian. Cullen waved him over. ‘A moment? I need your help with a demonstration?’

Placing his longbow on a barrel, the knight approached swiftly. He threw a friendly nod to the recruits, who watched on in slight admiration. Michel de Chevin’s feats at the Skyhold Tourney had travelled far and wide over the last year, and he continued to be heralded as the finest swordsman in the lands. The Maister of Blades.

‘I need to show our men and women here how to thrust and parry.’ explained Cullen ‘I shall parry, if you will do the honour of thrusting?’

Taking a few steps back, Cullen held his steel ready at hand.

Michel threw a smile to the group. ‘With pleasure.’ he answered, causing a few chuckles.

As the chevalier’s eyes turned back to the Commander, however, there was no smile. In fact the Orlesian revealed a hint of malice. Cullen held a smirk, now growing entertained at the hostility of his opponent. Were it anyone else in the ranks he would have wiped that look off their face with an afternoon in the stocks, but there was something about an angry Michel de Chevin that provided the Commander with ample delight.

‘Ready?’ asked Michel, unsheathing his sword. He held the hilt light but firm in his hands, spinning the sword in anticipation. An expert swordsman was being given permission to come at his enemy and the chevalier looked pleased about it.

‘When you are.’ replied Cullen sternly, sword ready.

Without hesitation, Michel came in with a sharp thrust at Cullen’s chest. The Commander parried to the left, knocking the blade away forcefully. The group gasped, knowing had the Commander not blocked the thrust he would have certainly been injured by the rapid attack.

‘You see how I kept the sword close to my body as I parried?’ educated the Commander ‘Always parry keeping the sword close to you. You don’t need to extend your sword and wave it about, and if you do be prepared to lose the degree of control you hold over your blade.’. Cullen threw an authoritative look at the knight, who was waiting silently. ‘Again.’ he commanded.

Michel lunged at Cullen again, this time aiming for his stomach. The soldiers gasped as Cullen narrowly dodged the blow. The loud clang of steel sounded, and Michel’s blade was again knocked aside.

Raising an amused brow, Cullen turned to the onlookers. ‘Of course, perhaps we should remind the Maister who the enemy is, lest I spill my gullet before the demonstration is over?’

The soldiers laughed, while more onlookers gathered around to catch a glimpse of the demonstration. It was no secret that the Commander and Michel de Chevin had a history of getting into fights. And it was no secret that the soldiers became rather excited whenever there was a chance to witness one.

The knight stepped back, a wide smile on his face. ‘Fear not Commander, I know all too well who the enemy is.’

‘Good to know.’ remarked Cullen dryly, revealing a smirk as he held the Chevalier’s furious eye. Turning casually back to the soldiers, Cullen continued with the lesson. ‘Once you parry and knock your opponent’s blade away, you have a window of opportunity to counter attack and land a lethal blow. The key is to continue into the counter attack as fluidly as possible. Parry and counter, parry and counter. And so forth.’

‘A simple but important thing to remember is your sword must always be in front, direct at your enemy.’ added Michel, pointing his sword at the Commander ‘This will keep your enemy at bay. But do not aim to simply strike forward. You must use side steps and sweep your blade arm across to land a blow.’

Cullen raised a brow as he beheld the steel blade of Banal Nadas pressed direct against his breast. ‘How’s that working for you?’ quipped Cullen, refusing to react to the blade aimed at his heart ‘Is your enemy at bay, Michel? Or are you baying for blood?’

Michel’s blade lingered, a deathly stare thrown towards the Commander before turning once more to the crowd. The Chevalier flashed a wide smile to the recruits. ‘Lucky for the Commander and I, we both respect the blade too much to ever take it lightly. Always know what you hold in your hand, and what your enemy holds. They are one and the same my friends.’

The Commander approached the group, throwing his sword down before him. He rested his weight against the wooden fence of the training circle and crossed his arms comfortably. ‘I recall seeing my first sword fight in a travelling theatre that was performing at my home village.’ he observed ‘My advice to you all is this. Do not fight as the actors do.’

The soldiers laughed at the comment, amused grins on their faces.

Cullen waved his hand, calling for silence once more. ‘You laugh and perhaps it seems comical, but there is a truth to it. The climactic moves such as the overhead sword lunge and the acrobatic spinning around and striking your opponent are nothing more than reliable ways to end up sufficiently dead. Unless you are a warrior of exceptional finesse, do not go there.’. Cullen picked up his sword once more, turning to Michel. ‘For example, I shall attempt to swing my sword at my opponent from up above my head.’. Cullen began to raise his sword before pausing to throw Michel a cynical look ‘Let us hope he remembers this is a demonstration and doesn’t run me through.’ 

‘No promises.’ muttered Michel, readying himself.

Cullen appeared highly entertained by the snide comment as his sword came down towards the chevalier from overhead. Michel, taking cue, effortlessly made contact with Cullen’s torso before the Commander had even lowered his arms to land a blow. The chevalier bestowed a light tap with his blade however, nothing more.

‘Never leave yourself open to look the part.’ warned the Commander, throwing a stern eye to the soldiers ‘Best leave the theatrics for the chevaliers, isn’t that right Michel?’

Laughter sounded across the group and the Orlesian joined in, pretending to be amused by the Commander. 

Cullen nudged his head at the soldiers. ‘Now pair off and practice what we have done.’ he ordered, sheathing his sword ‘And the rest of you get back to your groups and train. No stopping until sundown.’. As the soldiers dispersed, his amber eyes moved sharply to the chevalier who remeained before him. ‘Can I have a word?’

A smug smile on his lips, Michel threw a nod and sheathed his sword. He followed the Commander away from the training circle and down to the outside entrance of the dungeons. The area was isolated and no one was around to overhear their conversation. 

Cullen crossed his arms authoritatively. There was no smile on his lips and no softness on his face. Just a hardened look that showed Michel that he was not impressed. ‘You’re letting your personal feelings interfere with your duty. My advice? Cease this lack of control and step in line, or else.’

Michel scoffed at the remark. ‘You must forgive my confusion. Is this an official warning regarding my service? Or have you come to crow about your recent conquest?’

The Commander rolled his eyes. ‘And there we have it. I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’d act like a man about it. But from that slighted delicate Orlesian look of yours I suppose I should have known better?’

The chevalier cast his eyes across the lower courtyard, refusing to look at the Commander and yet shaking his head in disapproval. ‘Only your conscience reveals its guilt here, for I have not made any protest. Ophelia has made her decision and I will respect it. Unlike others in former days…’

Cullen laughed, pulling his water flask from his belt. Taking several sips, the Commander remained silent, as if enjoying the uncomfortable disquiet.

‘Ophelia believes you love her, but we both know you only love yourself.’ observed Michel plainly ‘Yours are the actions of a man consumed by ego.’

‘Oh the theatrics!’ chuckled Cullen, shaking his head ‘Could you be any more hypocritical if you tried? Ser Michel, who chases after women as if he is entitled to each and every one, no matter the consequences.’. Cullen rubbed his temples tiredly ‘Seeing as this alludes you on a daily basis, let me explain this to you as simply as I can. Once and for all. When you came to Skyhold Ophelia was already in a relationship with me. You chose to ignore this blinding apparent fact and sought to pursue her. Several times you succeeded in stealing a bit of totty here and there, and the moment there was an opportunity to strike you took it. That makes you nothing more than a snake Michel. A pathetic little licentious snake. Understood?’

The Chevalier now looked amused. ‘It is always the one that mistreats that likes to make out that everyone else is the problem. No Cullen, I will not react to your bluster. In fact you can rest assured I will not be chasing after Ophelia as you no doubt will fear. Insecurity such as yours will ensure that fear. But know this, I will be highly entertained when she leaves you once more, for she inevitably will. I won’t have to do a thing, just wait to see it all unravel in a most spectacular way.’

The Commander was growing impatient, thoroughly sick and tired of the Orlesian’s snideness. ‘Come now, enough of this nonsense! Putting our differences aside, I know you are a skilled warrior that has the potential to do so much more than what the Inquisition could offer you. Emperor Gaspard offers you a position few could boast of. Return to the Order of the Chevaliers and to your home in Orlais. There is nothing more for you here, Michel.’

The directed his attention to the soldiers training in the distance. ‘If you had given me the choice a year back perhaps I would have taken it? In fact I would have, so desperate was I to return to the life that I felt had been robbed from me.’. The chevalier turned to the Commander seriously. ‘Now things are different. I have trained these men and women and watched them become remarkable soldiers. These people are as much a part of my life now as I am of theirs. I have a duty to the Inquisition and the people of it, and so I will stay until my service is no longer needed.’

Cullen nodded. ‘I understand that sense of duty and responsibility you have for these people. I understand it all too well. As Commander, and Knight-Captain before, I’ve always felt bound to my role for the same reasons. But Michel, you must also realise at the end of the day all you are is a glorified combat instructor and step in Commander. You have the potential to be so much more and indeed you are entitled to that much, considering all that you have accomplished over the years. Do you really want be always under my thumb? Answering to my directions even though deep down we both know you despise it? You, once Champion to the Empress of Orlais and the head of the Chevalier Order, now nothing more than one of my soldiers?’

Michel placed his hand on his breast. ‘Death before dishonour.’ he replied determinedly.

‘Andraste preserve me.’ muttered Cullen, kicking some loose pebbles on the ground ‘We are not in the damn Academie des Chevaliers.’

The Orlesian shrugged. ‘Honour is honour Cullen, no matter where you find yourself. My opinion of you has nothing to do with my service to the Inquisition. To the honour it holds to serve a purpose that the Inquisition serves. Unless the Inquisition disbands, I shall remain dedicated to the cause.’

The Commander nodded sharply. ‘Naturally that is your choice. However if your choice is to stay here in my army then let me straight with you, soldier. Any more outbursts, insubordination or even a skerrick of a filthy look cast my way and I will hold you accountable. You will get no special treatment from me, so this is your final warning. Step into line Michel or I will make you.’

With a tight jaw, Michel stood tall before the templar. ‘Yes Commander.’

‘Also from tomorrow I want you to take some time off to clear your head. Two weeks and that is final. Go somewhere away from Skyhold if possible. Clear that head of yours and perhaps we can start afresh, you and I?’

The chevalier looked furious, suppressing from answering anything but the bare minimum. ‘Yes Commander.’

‘Dismissed.’ muttered Cullen, waving him off with a flick of his hand.

Michel marched away, running a careless hand through his loose blonde hair. Picking up his bow once more, he recommenced supervising the soldiers who shot wonky arrows into the targets before them, a stern expression heavy on his face.

****

Sitting cross-legged on an ornate red damask quilt, I beheld a pair of black puffy pantaloons lying before me on a pile of clothes. Breaking into hysterics, I grabbed the offending trousers and shook them light-heartedly at the mage standing before me at the edge of the bed.

‘Look at these ridiculous things! Why Jowan, I never thought you had it in you?’

The mage frowned, snatching the pants off me and tossing them into the corner of the room. ‘Naturally not all these garments are mine.’ informed Jowan ‘I cannot say I care much for Orlesian velvets and lace.’

Somewhat gobsmacked, I looked down at the pile in dread. ‘You mean-?’

‘These are mostly Athalwolf Guildersleeve’s attire. Yes.’ interjected Jowan ‘And no, I’m not comfortable with the fact that they are here, or that aside from them the only garments of clothing I personally own are two black robes. Robes given to me when I joined the Inquisition, mind you.’. Placing several scrolls and pouches of herbs into a brown satchel, Jowan sighed heavily. ‘You’d think it would make packing a relatively effortless task, and yet it is more difficult than ever. Thank the gods that you arrived when you did, since you’ve been ever so helpful.’

With a playful poke of my tongue, I continued to rummage through the clothing. There was a velvet trimmed waistcoat, silken socks, several lace cravats, half a dozen red cotton hankies and three crisp linen shirts. Everything screamed Lord Athalwolf.

‘Here.’ I remarked, tossing a cotton black shirt and trousers towards the mage ‘No one will recognise these. And they’re in your favourite colour. Done and dusted.’

Jowan scrutinised the clothes before conceding in defeat, shoving the items into his pack. ‘I miss the days when I was a hermit in my hut and walked around just in socks.’ he muttered.

‘Sounds like you were living the dream?’ I teased, throwing him a red handkerchief.

Jowan grinned, catching the item. ‘I was actually. No Chantry gibberish to listen to. No people hurling annoying questions at me. No Iron Bull to make me feel utterly uncomfortable. And no irritating Inquisitors sitting on my bed, poking their stickybeak into all my business.’

I grinned at the mage. ‘You love my stickybeak.’

‘I do.’ chuckled Jowan ‘Call it being a sucker for punishment.’. He snapped his fingers sharply in my direction ‘Less chatter, more packing. I can hardly be entertained by Orlesian nobility in two shirts and one pair of pants.’

Groaning at the man, the shifting of clothes recommenced. ‘How long are you even going for again? Are you the type to don a cravat? Shall I pack a few just in case?’

‘Leliana said it should take less than a week.’ answered Jowan ‘And no, I’m not partial to cravats.’. Looking amused at the concept, he recommenced his packing. ‘Hopefully my stay is not all hobnobbing, I should like some time to myself. You know I’ve never explored Lydes before? I had heard there was a remarkable alchemist’s store in the town square. I wonder if they sell crushed painite?’

‘Well between you and me, hobnobbing always requires a black velvet tunic.’. Holding up the item of clothing, I couldn’t help but recognise it. ‘Hmmm this looks familiar?’

‘No not that one.’ muttered Jowan, tossing it into the corner of the room ‘I used to wear that almost every day in Skyhold when I was Athalwolf. Shows how much you were paying attention?’

Turning my eyes away, I began to feel uneasy. No matter how knowledgeable we were these days of Jowan’s former identity, it was nevertheless uncomfortable. As much as I tried to make light of the matter or even try to rationalise why he did what he had done, I always ended up being incredibly put off by the fact that Jowan had once been Lord Athalwolf Guildersleeve. At the end of the day it was hard to ignore the fact that Jowan, in cold blood, had murdered an innocent Orlesian noble to take his form. And by his side was no other than Josephine. This man that I got along with so very well and considered a good friend had lived an entirely different life. A terribly dark and troubling life….

Jowan picked up a green waistcoat from the pile, brushing the lint from it before folding it neatly into his pack. ‘This is making you uncomfortable, I can tell. May I ask you something? And forgive me for it sounds a trifle odd. Did you like me or Athalwolf better?’

Rolling my eyes, I diverted my attention back to the pile of clothes. ‘You were one and the same. Cynical, snappy and too smart for your own good.’

Jowan smiled, closing his bag. ‘Well that’s it then.’ he observed ‘Lydes, here I come. Are you certain you will be fine to oversee the tower while I’m gone?’

‘Will you stop asking me, I’ve already said yes a billion times over.’ I groaned ‘I’ll even promise you that I won’t burn down the tower while you’re gone?’. With a frown, my troubles started to return as something came to mind. ‘To be honest I need a distraction more than ever at the moment.’

‘Meaning?’ queried the mage, placing his bag neatly by the entrance of the door.

‘It’s nothing.’ I muttered. Yet I knew that was a lie. It was something. Looking at my companion, I wondered whether he knew? ‘You’re the Left Hand to the Divine. Hear any big news about Leliana recently?’

Jowan hesitated, casting his black eyes at me. ‘Such as….?’

‘You already know.’ I groaned, recognising a guilty look when I saw one. ‘You dodgy bugger, you never said a word to me about it! Oh don’t worry, I don’t think I really wanted to know about this earlier. Unfortunately I found out the other day from Cullen.’

Turning to the cupboard, Jowan began to rummage loudly through one of the draws. ‘She’s quite guarded about these things. To be honest I don’t know much. That is to say I haven’t been involved with the pregnancy.’

‘Yes well that’s Cullen’s job, isn’t it? Pardon the pun. Oh Jowan, what an utter shambles. The fact that Leliana is having Cullen’s child is so…well it hasn’t hit me yet. I think when I see her stomach growing bigger then it is really going to hit home. I can’t imagine how the next few months are going to play out.’

‘Yes I can imagine.’ observed the mage hastily, eager to change the subject. ‘Oh before I forget, could you remember to feed the fish in my study? Crispin said he would do it but I have this dreadful image in my head of returning to poisoned fish because he accidently used essence of firesbane instead of the dried vegetable mix I use. It’s beside the tank, the fish food that is. Not the firesbane. You can’t miss it. Well unless you’re Crispin, and then I have a feeling you may. I intend to return from Lydes without regret.’

A sudden shiver crossed my mind, goose bumps crawling down across my skin. At the mention of Lydes I grew apprehensive and I could not for the life of me explain why? A billowing cloud of smoke fell over, weighing me down. It was an unexpected sense of doom and yet there was no earthly explanation for such a feeling. It was not uncommon for me to have these feelings, yet whenever they did happen I always felt worse for it knowing something bad was going to occur. I remembered having a dream of the red phoenix who pushed me off the waterfall. It was the morning before I left for the journey where Michel de Chevin was possessed by Imshael. The journey where Cullen had sought to hunt me down, convinced that I was a blood mage. Omen or not, I was certain there were no coincidences when I had these visions.

Jowan tilted his head, curious at my quietness. ‘Ophelia? Something amiss?’

I looked at my companion in concern. ‘Call me paranoid but I have a feeling. Just then when you mentioned Lydes I had a sudden sense of terrible malaise. As if this trip will bring you terrible misfortune Jowan.’

‘Oh well there’s a brilliant send off if ever I’ve heard of one.’. The mage crossed his arms in amusement. ‘Is this payback for me calling you a gypsy the other day? Okay what else does it say in your crystal ball? I’ll hardly get my six silver’s worth with that ambiguous prediction. There better be a wagon of coin and entertaining some tall dark and handsome individual that isn’t me.’

Shaking my head, I tried to dismiss the uneasy sensation. ‘It’s most likely nothing. Probably just sleep deprivation.’

‘Well before you run out to buy that caravan and a deck of fortune telling cards I’d recommend you don’t quit your day job.’ teased the mage cheerfully.

Leaping off the bad, I playfully shoved the man in arm. ‘Oh shut up and go consort with your toffy nosed elites, you jaunty socialite. You won’t be missed a bit. So good riddance!’

With a pinch and a punch, Jowan wrestled me to the door. ‘Be quiet lest I turn you into a toad.’ he teased ‘Come on prophet, I’m starving. Let’s go get some supper.’

***

Slowly the horses trudged along the Imperial Highway with sludgy hooves. It had been raining quite severely in previous days and the roads were more puddle than gravel. Such muddy conditions made travel exceptionally slow and provided ample time to while away the hours in conversation.

Her hand stroked her brown horse’s mane as Morrigan looked curiously about at the small entourage. Between the silent Chantry escorts sent to protect Leliana and Jowan, to the solemn Michel de Chevin trailing behind, there was not much liveliness to the party. Jowan rode his black horse alongside Morrigan, pensively watching the surrounding fields, whilst Leliana led the group further up ahead.

‘Not that I’m complaining at the lack of boring polite conversation, but there is more cheer in a graveyard.’ observed the witch, casting a sharp eye to Jowan. ‘Did one of you kill the other’s cat? What childish gripe are we dealing with here?’

Jowan turned to the witch in surprise, as if he were used to the uncomfortable atmosphere and had quite forgotten it was there at all. ‘Well, let us just say Michel and I certainly do not get along.’ he informed softly.

Morrigan held an entertained smile, appearing delighted at the notion of hostility. ‘What did you do to secure that relationship? Set fire to the legs of his trousers? I can’t say I haven’t thought about doing the same.’

‘Or arranged a particularly powerful demon to possess him.’ replied Jowan quietly.

Instead of appearing shocked or outraged, Morrigan looked sufficiently impressed. ‘On purpose?’

‘Just so.’ confirmed Jowan. He turned his eyes to the Spymaster riding up ahead. ‘Again with Leliana, she does not get along with Michel either.’

‘Yes the Orlesian Chevalier.’ remarked Morrigan with narrow eyes ‘If I had to guess he is gushing fool brimming with heroics and nausea inducing sentimentality. That is what all of the Chevaliers were like at court, to the delight of the Empress. To my everlasting disgust. Why is he coming along with us again?’

‘I am well acquainted with the Laurent family.’ answered Michel from behind.

Morrigan and Jowan turned their heads in surprise, unaware the chevalier was listening in the entire time.

‘Leliana mentioned she was visiting the household of Laurent,’ added Michel ‘and considering they are a close family friend I felt obliged to come along. Since I’m on leave I thought on calling in on several friends in Orlais.’

‘He speaks then.’ exclaimed Morrigan ‘Most excellent. And do you find the fact that these friends once considered you a traitor, and most likely desired to see you hang from a gibbet, to be off-putting in the slightest?’

‘Not you as well.’ muttered Michel, gripping his reins tight. ‘No, I understand why they considered me a traitor at the time. They were mistaken and I can forgive mistakes.’

Jowan looked unconvinced, and Morrigan appeared sickened at the observation.

‘Do your kind realise that excessive mind-numbing positivity does nothing more than make you look like a complete and utter idiot?’ observed Morrigan sharply ‘A man of little substance because it is all lost in the sappy forgiving actions of weak enablement. They weren’t to blame. Forgive and forget.’. Morrigan scoffed in disgust. ‘Be angry. Take control of what was taken from you, and make these fools regret the day they ever cast you aside.’

Jowan supressed his laughter, pulling his sleeve to his mouth as he threw an entertained look to Morrigan. Her lips pursed in satisfaction, she threw the mage a wink and continued riding tall in her saddle as Michel refused to entertain her observation.

‘No answer?’ observed Morrigan ‘Very well then, onwards we go.’


	76. Necklace, Perfume, Poultice and Stone

After two rather long and uneventful days of riding along the Imperial Highway, Leliana, Jowan, Morrigan and Michel ended up at Monte-Gaudin Manor, situated at the edge of Lydes. The estate was large and ostentatious, as was the custom with all Orlesian noble landholders in the area. A great pair of white marble lions guarded a giant golden gate, and along a path that weaved through the trees for another half a mile, the party finally arrived at the grand triple story manor. Greeted at the front steps by Ser Gavin and Lady Mirabelle Laurent, the hosts were beside themselves that the Divine had arrived on horseback and not in some fine Orlesian barouche. Finally after many honeyed words and cheerful observations about the weather, the guests were shown to their rooms.

Leliana wandered around her large bed chambers cradling a cup of tea. Her feet treaded on the soft woollen rugs and highly polished floorboards, relishing the feel of luxurious materials that were all but forgotten to her in Skyhold. The gold drapery was drawn tight, the oil lanterns lit bright, and the scent of melting wax filled the room; of warm jasmine, honey and lily. The decadence of her new settings would have been well enjoyed had not one particular witch of the wilds decided to arrive at her door, uninvited.

Morrigan stood in the middle of the room by a white washed Orlesian writing desk, her hand outstretched towards the Spymaster. And in it lay one small polished stone.

‘You’re joking?’ remarked Leliana, looking at the piece of carnelian in Morrigan’s palm ‘This is some quirky joke of yours, no?’

Morrigan released an irritated sigh. ‘Oh yes tee hee hee. Here I was waiting until we arrived here in Lydes to tell you the most incredibly unfunny joke that I know about a piece of stone.’ Pushing it abruptly into Leliana’s hand, the witch glared at her. ‘Was I wrong or did you say you wanted help in conceiving a child? If the answer is yes then use it just as I’ve instructed.’

Leliana threw an incredulous look at the woman. ‘With a piece of carnelian? That I must have placed on my belly button during the final act? No this is too ridiculous.’

‘Things are not always as they seem. That stone you have there has been enchanted with a great deal of ancient magic. After you have bedded Jowan with that stone on your belly button, you will bring it back to me. I will perform one final spell, and at that moment your womb will be with child.’

Leliana placed her hands sharply on her hips. ‘Already I have too many things to be worried about. And now this?! How am I going to manage this without Jowan noticing there is a bright red rock on my stomach? Because that’s not at all unnerving. Andraste help me, how am I even going to get him into my bed! You saw the way he was on the road. There is nothing between us, Morrigan.’

The witch laughed to herself, turning back to her bag. She rummaged through it and withdrew a silver chain with one piece of rose quartz hanging off it.

‘More stones! This is too much.’ protested Leliana ‘Should I ask where I have to put that?’

‘If only ‘twas bigger I would recommend placing it in your gob.’ retorted Morrigan impatiently. She dangled the chain before the Spymaster ‘This will be what wins over your mage tonight’.

‘How?’ asked Leliana.

‘It is enchanted to attract attention from the male species.’ explained Morrigan ‘Some may call it a charm of attraction? Others may say it has the gift to glamour? Either way, it renders the wearer to be quite irresistible.’

Leliana looked at the chain dubiously. ‘Is that it then? Wear this and try and lure Jowan into my bed. Oh and put some silly stone in my belly button?’

Morrigan clicked her fingers, turning back to her bag. She withdrew two vials. ‘This green bottle is a perfume of romance. I thought it better to use all the tricks in my bag rather than just the one. It is oil of tuberose, ylang ylang and lavender, guaranteed to enamour your significant other. And this red bottle is a love tincture that mother swore by. It is concentrated damiana and blue lotus. Pour it into a few cups of wine and drink it. Both of you should drink it.’

Leliana frowned. ‘You want me to be poisoned?’

‘This is not potion, nor poison.’ tittered Morrigan ‘It’s ancient herbal wisdom and nothing more, but do not underestimate the power of oils and herbs on the senses. And yes tonight I want you to desire Jowan. In that annoying little head of yours you desire that grumpy Commander and that is hardly going to help matters now, is it? It helps with the spell. Not that I used it myself, but you need all the help you can get. Here and elsewhere…..’

‘Fine.’ muttered Leliana ‘Necklace, perfume, poultice and stone. Understood.’

Morrigan looked the Spymaster up and down, her head tilting in disapproval.

‘What?’

‘Is that what you are wearing to dinner tonight?’ asked the witch dubiously. ‘Leliana all the ancient magic in the world is going to nothing if you are determined to look like a bog hag.’

‘This dress is made of the finest Orlesian silk and the buttons are freshwater pearls.’ remarked Leliana coldly.

Morrigan waved her hands in the air in a mocking way. ‘Which goes to show money does not always buy one taste. Let me be clear with you; you are wearing a white bed sheet. Also the colour white resonates with your drab Divine colours of white. The last thing you want to be reminding the person that you are trying to seduce is that you are some preachy matron head figure in a religious cult.’

Clenching her jaw but refusing to react, Leliana threw a brisk nod. ‘Point taken. Do you have any helpful suggestions as to what I should be wearing?’

Morrigan pondered the question, looking over the woman before her. ‘A long black dress and a red corset would be my preference. Hair loosely up. And a smile Leliana. Try not to frighten him away by looking as if you are planning his assassination.’

‘None of that clothing you speak of do I have on hand.’ informed Leliana crossly. ‘And that look you speak of. By any chance is it the one I am giving you now?’

The witch ignored the comment, turning again to her bag. ‘Lucky for you I think of everything and always come prepared. I’ve brought some clothing from my days at the Orlesian Court. Come now, we haven’t much time before dinner and magic or not, it’s going to take some work to make you look the part.’

****

With Leliana and Michel away the keep, I found myself guilty of donning a swagger in my step and humming a merry tune under my breath. The day seemed brighter and the annoying occurrences of everyday life seemed trivial. The burnt porridge at breakfast, whilst inedible, was easily forfeited as I had lost my appetite anyway. Dagna’s insistence at educating me on magical runes was greeted by disingenuous replies of yes Dagna and really, is that so? Watching the cook chase after the stable hand with a rolling pin seemed more comical than disturbing, and the cats sunbaking on the steps on the battlements appeared cute rather than an opportunity to make me fall to my untimely death.

Anything and everything was perfectly….pleasant.

Deciding to visit Cullen that morning, I made my way across the sunny battlements and found the Commander’s door wide open. As I entered Cullen’s study, the Commander and several lieutenants were gathered around his desk. A map of the Arbor Wilds lay open with several large markers scattered across.

‘The Inquisition’s efforts have weakened Corypheus significantly. Now is the time to strike.’ informed the Commander ‘Our sources tell us he and his red templars are somewhere in the vicinity over here.’

One of Cullen’s senior mentors, Dale Finnigan, a middle aged man with long brown hair and a short beard stepped closer to the table. ‘Commander we propose setting up several camps across the Arbor wilds. Already we know will have to contend with several camps from the Red Templars, so our Inquisition troops being scattered across the area will be to our advantage.’

‘Worst case scenario is we will be forced to call a hasty retreat.’ pointed out Lieutenant Burns ‘Given the forest coverage in the area, it should be to our advantage.’

Cullen was unconvinced. ‘No.’ he replied ‘A hasty retreat will always cause greater causalities than an organised one. In most battles I’ve fought more soldiers were killed during a retreat than the actual battle.’

‘In a battlefield I would agree with you Commander,’ observed the lieutenant ‘but we are concealed in the Arbor Wilds. There is no cause for fearing an open area.’

Drawing several markers to the east and south of the forest, the Commander looked towards the men seriously. ‘The Arbor Wilds is not all dense forest. There are many areas where cavalry would easily be able to manage the area. Cavalry that can easily remove archers and infantry no longer protected by the line of pikes if a retreat occurs. No, we need to be careful. The Red Templars dominate this area and that means they know the terrain very well. That is their advantage and it is a rather large one I’m afraid.’. Cullen frowned, running his hand across the map ‘There are other areas deeper in the wilds that are dense and that is where they will most likely hold a fortress. It’s going to be next to impossible to implement siege warfare.’

‘We could assemble the battering rams, siege towers, ballistas and trebuchets once we’ve set camps in the area?’ suggested Lieutenant Ross. He rubbed his ginger beard, deep in contemplation ‘That element of surprise might be all we need to take them down?’

Cullen shook his head. ‘That could take weeks or more. It is uncertain how much time we have but I’d make a safe guess that once the templars and Corypheus get wind that the Inquisition are in their territory they will attack as soon as possible.’

‘Depending on the fortification we face, we could use other tactics to flush them out?’ suggested Dale ‘Considering we’re in a forest I’d say fire would be too risky, but there are other ways. Tunnelling under the walls? Or throwing diseased carcases into the settlements? Even poisoning the water supplies might work?’

‘Do these monsters even drink and eat like real men?’ frowned Lieutenant Ross.

Cullen looked troubled, the crease on his brow deep. ‘Yes Lieutenant, they are still men and women. They are still templars beneath that armour of red, who breathe and bleed just like the rest of us.’

Noticing me watching on silently, the Commander knocked the table. ‘Let us take a break. Return here in half an hour. I want exact numbers from the armoury and potions supplies. Dale send word for Raymondet. Tell him we need his advice. He’s the best architect in Skyhold and Maker knows if anyone can construct a trebuchet in the heart of a forest it will be him.’

With a nod the men departed the study, leaving Cullen hunched over the map.

‘It seems so easy.’ he muttered ‘The enemy is here.’. The Commander pressed a hard thumb on the map. ‘Unfortunately real life makes it a tad more complicated. We are venturing into a maze and even the most seasoned of warriors can be thrown off-guard, when leaf and shadow mingle with the enemy it will play tricks on their minds. Fear breeds very well in these conditions, and before we know it we will be playing into our enemy’s hand.’

The Commander sighed, shaking his head. ‘I need a break.’ he muttered.

Placing a bundle on his desk, I patted the man on the shoulder. ‘Lucky for you there is nothing that apple cake won’t fix. Fresh from the kitchens, I thought you might like a piece?’

‘She brings me cake when all hope is lost.’ chuckled Cullen, opening the cloth. The man took a bite of the morsel, nodding in approval as he munched away. ‘Have you got a pot of coffee behind your back?’ he asked with a smirk ‘I’d say the stars would then be truly aligned.’

Shaking my head, I threw the man a smile. ‘Madame Ruthie told me to bugger off before I could get a chance. Actually, before being told to bugger off she cursed me and the others for not doing our job properly and sourcing more coffee beans from the Hinterlands. Skyhold is fresh out of coffee and somehow that is my fault?’

‘Well it is your fault,’ teased Cullen ‘what do you do all day?’

The low hum of the warning horn sounded outside and distracted our banter. We hastily retreated to the window, eager to see what the ruckus was about. The guards posted at the gate were yelling something, pointing into the distance. Before I could speak Cullen had already rushed out the door, scaling the battlements towards the main gate. Quickly I followed on.

‘What is it?!’ he yelled, approaching the guards ‘How many are there? Are they hostile?’

The guard shook her head. ‘No Commander, it’s the templars but not the red ones. They approach in the hundreds, look you can see them on the horizon.’

Squinting his amber eyes, the Commander could see long line of a templar order, winding their way along Guerin’s Path that lead towards Skyhold. ‘What in the world are they doing here?’ muttered Cullen ‘Have a group of soldiers ride out to them and approach with caution. We do not know what this is, it could be a trap.’

‘Yes Commander.’

The guard ran off, and Cullen continued to hold his attention to the distance.

It was troubling to see such a large number of people in the Frostback Mountains, let alone a large number of templars. The solemn procession reminded one of an impending war, and whether civil or not it was a disheartening sight.

I threw Cullen a perplexed look. ‘Why would the templars be here of all places?’

‘My guess is as good as yours, and I’m the head of the damn Order.’ frowned Cullen ‘Whatever it is we can assume it is not good news.’

Impatiently we waited, Cullen pacing the battlements back and forth only to stop and bark orders at a solder every now and then. Half an hour passed and finally the soldiers returned with news, dismounting hastily and making their way up the battlements to where the Commander waited.

‘Commander we’ve had word from Knight-Commander Rylen. He says the templars come in peace and request shelter at Skyhold.’

Cullen looked completely baffled. ‘Shelter here? Why in the blazes would they want that? Why are they here in the first place?’

‘Knight-Commander Rylen refused to say. He told us he seeks your council immediately when he arrives.’

Crossing his arms, the Commander nodded the soldiers away and turned to the horizon where the line of templars grew closer and closer to Skyhold.

‘Maker help us all, this does not bode well.’

Another half an hour or so passed, the residents nervously lingering around the courtyard despite being told the soldiers to clear out. Finally a rumble of hooves could be felt, shaking the very foundations of the keep. A steady stream of templars entered in through the gates. Hundreds upon hundreds, taking up every inch of room available and then spilling outside the keep. The man at the head of the procession dismounted, exchanging a few brief words to some soldiers before ascended the stairs of the battlements.

He wore the templar blue and silver steel armour of a Knight-Commander, coated in splatters of mud and old looking blood. The man himself was drenched, an occupational hazard of riding through the misty mountains. Removing his helmet as he approached, he came forward and shook the Commander’s hand firmly.

‘Cullen it is good to see you. Maker grant us patience. A lot has happened in the space of a few days.’

Cullen clasped the man’s hand strongly ‘Rylen, what is the meaning of all this? What has happened man?’

Rylen breathed out heavily in frosty plumes of frustration. ‘Several nights ago we were woken in the early hours of morning by the sound of an army flooding the valley at Ostagar. We were evicted from the Tower of Ishal, treated no better than some damn Chasind being forced into the Korcari Wilds.’

Cullen shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Who in the blazes were they?’

‘King Alistair and his army.’ remarked Rylen darkly ‘He informed us that Ferelden was reclaiming Ostagar. Some damn fool in a robe read us out some legal pigswill about Anora’s inability to divide Ferelden land with the purpose of gifting it to the Chantry. Her decision was declared null and void and Alistair told the templars to leave his lands immediately.’. Rylen kicked the parapet in anger ‘For fucks sake Cullen, we were run out. There was no time to take any of our possessions. Our weapons and armour. All our supplies, everything, is now in the hands of King Alistair.’

Cullen rubbed his eyes with his palms, overwhelmed with fury. ‘I cannot believe it. That utter prick. That lily-livered cloutish whoreson of a prick. He’d seek to ruin the order he claims to be a part of. And for what?! The bastard was happy to see Order regroup in Ostagar when he was a fucking warden.’

The Knight-Commander looked exhausted. He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his greaves and achingly shifted from sore leg to sore leg. ‘A good question.’ Rylen remarked ‘We all know Alistair well. That light hearted joker with a heart of gold. That was not the man I saw the other day. The way he watched his army throw us out with no mercy. He was ruthless Cullen, with an underlying fury I’d never seen. As angry as when he and his Grey Wardens threatened to break down my doors at the Griffon Wing Keep. You must tell me friend, has any of what is happening now have to do with that day?’

The veins in the Commanders neck seemed to protrude as he held a tight jaw. ‘It has everything to do with that day. Alistair seeks vengeance for Sierra’s death and I am the one he blames. He will do everything in his power to get at me and this appears to be the first attempt. Maker knows I was waiting for it, but to remove the templars from Ferelden? It is utter madness. The idiot is cutting off his nose to spite his face.’

‘He declared any Red Templar, former or present, to be a traitor and any found on Ferelden land would be trialled for the murder of his people.’ added Rylen ‘You know how many of the saved red templars we have now. We had nowhere to go apart from here, and even Skyhold is uncertain. It is still technically Ferelden land. Cullen, our Order has nowhere to go.’

‘I suppose the Fortress Aeonar is out of the question?’ he frowned ‘What of the Order in Orlais? Or the Free Marshes?’

Rylen shook his head. ‘You know they cannot house our numbers. It was the reason we ended up at Adamant in the first place, remember?’

The Commander looked up sharply. ‘That’s it. We house them at Adamant.’

Rylen’s hazel eyes looked over to me uncertainly. I’d been listening on in silence by the parapet.

‘I’d say your mage Inquisitor would have something to say about that.’ observed Rylen ‘Inquisitor? What are your thoughts? It was you that ordered the templars to leave Adamant.’

My heart dropped as Cullen turned to me, his stern face and amber eyes silently appealing. The mages had felt a sense of security ever since I had removed the templars from Adamant. Yet it was more than that. It was a gesture that needed to be done. It was the Inquisitor saying templars did not have a part to play where the Inquisition was concerned. We were an Inquisition that provided mages with their independence. Jowan and I had laid the foundations of a new era for mages. We would not house and support the ones that sought to label us dangerous and strip away our freedoms. We would not support the Order that had taken the lives of so many of our kind, in the false fear that we were too powerful or unable to control our abilities. Subjected to horrors like the Right of Tranquillity or run through by a templar blade upon our initiation.

I looked at the men with a frown. ‘You know what this means for the mages that support the Inquisition. I am a mage Inquisitor, you cannot ask me to house and support the Templar Order, and use Inquisition resources in addition.’

Cullen grabbed my hand fervently. ‘Ophelia,’ he appealed, drawing closer to me ‘if there was any other place you can be assured we would take it. Please, we are desperate here. These people have nowhere to go and have no supplies. No food or water, and only the clothing on their backs. They have been travelling for days with horses that have not been fed. No person, mage or not, would judge you for helping those in need.’

‘Rest assure would not consider Adamant our final home.’ ensured Rylen ‘Only a place to stay until more secure arrangements can be made. Of course who knows how long that will take? We would not take advantage of any charity. We would serve to help out wherever we could. Ophelia I appeal to your good heart. Cullen and I need your help.’

Dreading the backlash this would cause, I nodded my head tiredly. ‘Yes of course, the Inquisition would not turn a blind eye to those in need. The templars can seek respite at Adamant with the Grey Wardens until more suitable arrangements can be made.’

Rylan looked overwhelmed with relief, and the Commander shared the same expression.

‘Thank you Inquisitor, your charity to our cause will never be forgotten.’ bowed Rylen, hand to his chest ‘I must go and advise the rest.’

‘Tell your men they can set up camp wherever they can find a space, there are limited areas within the keep but they are welcome to that also.’ informed Cullen ‘You will all have meals and any spare clothing and blankets we can muster.’

Rylen patted the man’s arm in gratitude ‘Thank you my friend. We will head off tomorrow at dawn after a nights rest. The sooner we get to Adamant, the better.’. The Knight-Commander set off immediately, eager to inform the others.

The Commander turned to me, squeezing my hand in appreciation. ‘Thank you.’ he murmured, looking as if he had just fought a Blight. ‘You have no idea what a weight off my shoulders this is.’

My eyes ran across the numbers below in the courtyard. It was concerning that the king could remove so many so effortlessly. ‘Alistair is out to hurt you any way he can. I fear what he will do next.’

The Commander scoffed in disgust. ‘A fine example of how to flout your power. Let him try to come at me, I’ll make sure he knows his place before the end.’

‘That sounds a wee bit troublesome.’ I frowned ‘You know the Inquisition is in a precarious position here. We cannot afford to tread on the toes of any of our supporters.’

Cullen rolled his eyes impatiently. ‘Tell me, how long do you think that fool will support you? He’s shown his true colours. Ferelden first and fuck the rest. When power goes to ruler’s head sometimes a little reminder of the height they could fall is all it takes to set things straight.’

Not understanding his meaning, I threw the man a confused pair of eyes.

‘Alistair has a son and we have him here in Skyhold.’ explained the Commander.

‘What?!!’ I gasped, completely stunned. ‘You’re joking? Did Sierra and Alistair have a child together? Who is it? It’s not one of the mage children is it? Pip, I bet it’s Pip.’

‘No not with Sierra.’ answered Cullen ‘Let us just say Alistair had a one night stand with a witch named Morrigan. Both she and her son Kieran now reside here, and we intend to keep it that way.’

Recalling the strange woman, I nodded in surprise. A woman of solitude, she kept to herself for the most part and I’d yet to properly talk to her aside from a polite nod in the hall at breakfast. ‘Yes I can’t say I know much about the woman. Does Alistair know she is here in Skyhold?’

Cullen shrugged ‘I highly doubt it considering he is now the king and any children with the blood of Theirin would be kept under lock and key in the palace. We have his son. Alistair will be made to show us a little fucking respect.’. Cullen drew his sight to the templars below. ‘I must go and help my people. We will speak later.’

Briskly he descended the battlements, the templars greeting Cullen warmly as he passed through.

My eyes turned away, more concerned about what Cullen had told me. The words sent a chill across my skin. Alistair was lashing out, and we now had his son. Was it only a matter of time before things got worse? I couldn’t say, but one question ran through my mind. How could having Kieran in Skyhold make anything better for any of us?

****

The melodic tune of a cello played as he sat stiffly on a crisp white Orlesian chaise. Black shirt buttoned high and green waistcoat secured snug, Jowan tried not to breathe too deeply. Truth be told, the mage’s physique was not as slender as Athalwolf’s had been, and not as short either. Shuffling in his seat, he drew his long black hair back with an uncomfortable hand as Lady Laurent oozed a smile beside him.

‘Tell me Jowan, what it is like living in Skyhold?’ she asked in between sips of Orlesian champagne. One curl from her white wig hung loose in front of her ear, and the hostess continued to tuck it behind in a flirty manner.

Jowan furrowed his brow, not knowing the answer to a seemingly simple question. ‘Well,’ pondered the mage ‘the Frostback Mountains are very beautiful. We wake up to a view of mist covered crags most days. And if you’re lucky you can see mountain eagles flying around the peaks. I believe they nest there-‘

‘Yes yes,’ dismissed Lady Laurent disinterestedly ‘but what about the people? What intrigues occur behind those gates I wonder? Oh come now, you must tell!’

Jowan threw his host an amused smile. If only she knew the half of it.

Mirabelle Laurent’s playful eyes turned to the chevalier who was standing by the fireplace. He looked distinguished, dressed in a blue waistcoat and white pants, a white silk cravat tied around his graceful neck. The knight held a crystal glass in one hand, sipping the contents elegantly.

‘I heard a rumour that the Inquisitor and Michel de Chevin were together. Is this true Ser Michel?’ asked Lady Laurent in glee ‘Come come, I must have all the details!’

Michel smiled warmly at his host. ‘I’m afraid we are no longer together, Mirabelle.’

The hostess’s eyes grew brighter at the prospect of such a bachelor as Ser Michel de Chevin being in her inner circle. ‘Well well well, we must remedy the situation immediately! I insist you come visit me at my estate in Lapin in the next month so you can meet my niece. She is heralded a great beauty and is so accomplished.’

The chevalier bestowed a polite bow ‘It Skyhold permits me time away it would be my pleasure.’

Jowan beheld Michel with amusement. He wasn’t certain whether the Orlesian was being sincere or not, but he certainly was a good actor if he wasn’t. The Orlesian had spent the last hour talking to his hostess about fine bone china, the opera, and the fashions in Halamshiral with a deal of enthusiasm. Meanwhile Jowan had silently been cursing himself for agreeing to go on this journey. He felt out of place. Like a weed in a flowerbed.

‘You mentioned that you were from Ferelden originally.’ observed Mirabelle, turning back to Jowan ‘What estates do you own there? I hear the manors near Lake Calenhad are very promising.’

Michel threw Jowan a polite smile, as if he was more than a little entertained at the uncomfortable question being thrown at the mage.

‘Well,’ contemplated Jowan ‘before I joined the Inquisition I lived on acreage at the base of the Frostback Mountains.’

‘In a grand Ferelden redwood manor, I can imagine.’ sighed Mirabelle dreamily.

Jowan tilted his head from side to side, weighing up the reality. ‘Not so much a manor. Some might call it a quaint cottage I suppose?’

Michel threw a raised brow to the mage, and Jowan turned back to Lady Laurent with a smirk.

‘Oh lovely, I adore summer cottages!’ she exclaimed. Her attention was distracted by footsteps approaching. ‘Oh she comes at last!’ remarked Mirabelle pleasantly, jumping to her feet. Her arms extended an embrace to the woman that appeared the door. ‘Divine Victoria you are most welcome.’

Usually covered from head to toe in black leather armour and a hood, Leliana stunned everyone in the room. She work a long black skirt that elegantly trailed onto the ground and a ruby red corset cinched her waist, lacing up beautifully at the back with red silken cord. Around her long neck hung a delicate silver necklace with a pink stone pendant, and the bare skin of her shoulders and chest entertained eyes as soft and pale with a light sprinkle of freckles. She rolled her eyes with a smile as she noticed all eyes were staring unabashedly at her.

‘Lady Laurent, my apologies for my late arrival.’ remarked Leliana, bestowing a warm hug to her hostess. ‘Oh and please, let there be no formalities tonight. It is just Leliana between friends. Let us leave the titles at the door, yes?’

‘Then I insist that you call me Mirabelle.’ smiled Lady Laurent ‘Come and seat yourself. Oh bother, where that serving lad when I need him? Excuse me a moment, I shall find him and make sure he gets a good whipping!’

Leliana threw a small wave to the hostess as she left, turning back to catch both Michel and Jowan continuing to stare at her quite openly.

‘You look positively enchanting tonight Leliana.’ observed Michel in surprise ‘The red in your dress brings out the green in your eyes. It is rather exquisite.’

Leliana looked completely taken aback. ‘Why thank you very much.’. She held a hidden smile as she seated herself besides Jowan, throwing him a grin. ‘What do you think Jowan? It is too much?’

The mage ran his eyes up and down purposively, pretending to ponder the question with a great of thought. Revealing a set of dimples, he bestowed a smile. ‘No I think it’s just the right amount. You look very pretty.’

With a gracious sweep onto the chaise Michel took a seat beside Leliana, his blue eyes sparkling at the woman. He was a man that appreciated beauty and took pleasure in entertaining it. ‘May I ask what delightful scent that perfume is? It reminds me of a warm summer’s afternoon in Lapin, walking the forest path towards the village.’. He sighed contentedly at the memory ‘Why is it that the memories of youth are the fondest recollections? The air was sweeter and the colours more vibrant.’

Jowan raised a secret brow to Leliana, silently making fun of the nostalgic knight. Leliana nodded, rolling her eyes. Her hand lifted to touch the mage’s waistcoat, causing Jowan to catch his breath.

‘Green suits you very much, Jowan. You look very handsome tonight.’

Jowan raised his eyes in surprise, looking down at the garment with a frown.

‘Come come.’ clapped Mirabelle, suddenly appearing at the door ‘Ser Laurent has finally arrived home, so let us eat!’

****

Dinner at the Laurent Estate was a stately affair. Each guest had their own attendant in the dining room, who stood behind them eagerly waiting to serve their every whim. Ser Laurent sat at one end of the large mahogany dining table, and Lady Laurent at the other. Michel and Jowan were seated on one side of table, whilst Leliana and Lady Laurent’s sister, Giselle, sat on the other. Indeed the table was so large, it took a servant half a dozen paces or so to pass the potatoes from one end of the table to the other.

The meal was separated into an eight course meal of culinary delight. First there was the amuse-bouche, which provided the guests with a variety of Orlesian olives, truffles and walnuts. For second course, the delicate cheese filled Halamshiral pastry hor d’oeuvres came out. The appetizer consisted of a fine mint and cucumber sorbet that all the guests enjoyed immensely. The fourth course was a fish course, a large salmon caught that morning in the Waking Sea. The main course entertained beef coated in pâté and wrapped in pastry, followed by a fresh garden salad of Orlesian rocket and bright red cherry tomatoes. A cheese platter followed after dinner, with large wheels of vacherin, camembert, bleu d’auvergne and reblochon. Afterwards a chocolate torte was presented, and beside it was a shot a rich Orlesian coffee, at which point the guests were suitably stuffed. With buttons undone and a flush in their cheeks, they retired to a parlour overlooking a large and neatly trimmed lawn adorned with a centre fountain that splashed away in the night.

Ser and Lady Laurent lazily lounged on a gold Orlesian daybed, with Michel in-between. The trio were full of wine and merriment, laughing and gossiping about half a dozen nobles no one else in the room had even heard of. It was apparent the chevalier was a definite favourite of the hosts, and there was scarce a moment when one of them wasn’t praising the chevalier for his wealth and bravery. They called him the Emperor’s favourite and toasted several times to his good health, completely smitten by his illustrious connections.

Jowan remained one of the quieter in the party. He sat beside the window, peacefully sipping a dessert wine as he looked out into the evening. Never had he known such beautiful places existed, and to his shame he was a little saddened at the thought of having to leave such luxuries. There was a whole other world out there and he had just had his first delicious bite.

‘How did you find dinner?’ asked Leliana, taking a seat at a chair beside the mage ‘Excessive, no?’

She threw him a fond smile before turning to the window, taking interest in the view through the glass.

The mage took another pleasant sip of wine and nodded in satisfaction. ‘Well after I mastered the whole fork in the left hand, knife in the right routine it was rather delightful. In fact, I’m just going to say it. Hang Skyhold, let’s move to Orlais.’

Leliana laughed, raising her glass ‘_A votre santé._’

‘Now that has been bothering me all night.’ observed Jowan snapping his fingers at the woman ‘Why does everyone keep on saying that before drinking? I felt completely out of the loop.’

‘It’s an Orlesian toast to health.’ explained Leliana in amusement ‘Sort of like cheers. How funny! I forget how different things are in Orlais compared to Ferelden. I suppose once you live here the customs stick and become second nature.’

The Spymaster appeared content, leaning back against the chair with a small smile on her lips. Jowan couldn’t help but notice her elegant and exposed neck, with skin so white he could have held up one of the porcelain dinner plates beside and the colour would have been the same. And that sweet scent. He shivered at the moreish nature of her perfume, which softly lulled him and left a feeling of warmth inside. Perhaps it was the wine, but he felt strangely drawn to the woman and felt guilty that never before had he fully appreciated how truly beautiful she was.

‘Ser Michel I must have your council.’ boomed Ser Laurent ‘My stable hand has delusions of grandeur. He wants to be one of your kind. A Chevalier. Got a pair of knife ears mind you, just to add further insult. Wouldn’t have hired the damn grunt if it weren’t for his mastery skills with the animals.’

Lady Laurent giggle in her sleeve. ‘An elven chevalier? Oh that is utterly hopeless!’

Ser Laurent nodded. ‘And he won’t get it out of his pin head that he’s got no chance of becoming one. The very notion of riff-raff thinking they are entitled to elevate above their station makes my blood boil! Will you have a word? Tell him to quit dreaming. I’m this close to kicking him off my lands if he doesn’t stop, but I need someone good to tend my horses. Bah, tommyrot! The scrapper can’t even afford a horse, some Chevalier he’d make eh? Hah-hah-hah!!’

Jowan frowned, turning his attention to the hosts. ‘Is there no chance he might become a chevalier? Perhaps he could become a squire? I’m not certain how things work in Orlais, but in Ferelden if a knight chooses to mentor you that is one way to become one. I believe irrespective of social standing?’

Michel’s eyes held a severity in them, revealing a hint of fury that was otherwise concealed with a large smile. He shook his head at the mage. ‘I’m afraid unless the stable hand is of human noble birth the answer is no. I can speak to him Ser Laurent, of course.’

‘Oh my dear, I don’t know why you bother.’ sighed Lady Laurent ‘Send him away! He is illiterate and utterly hopeless.

‘Don’t mistake being illiterate with necessarily being stupid.’ observed Jowan sharply ‘From what you speak of the man, he is most skilful with a horse and has aspirations. I cannot see anything hopeless in that.’

The guests all turned in surprise to the mage, shocked by his rather outlandish sentiments.

Leliana placed a subtle hand on Jowan’s, silently encouraging him to keep quiet. ‘You must forgive Jowan, he is a mentor at heart you see?’ dismissed Leliana with a laugh ‘He would see the promise in a potato if you gave him a chance.’

Mirabelle and Giselle giggled in delight, looking fondly at the mage. ‘Oh how adorable.’ they chimed together.

‘Now Jowan I must ask, do you know of any tricks?’ asked Giselle hopefully ‘My sister and I simply adore magic tricks.’

Leliana secretly rolled her eyes at her companion. ‘I think they are under the impression that you are a magician.’ she whispered.

Jowan chuckled, placing his glass down. ‘Well there’s no need to make them think otherwise.’ he murmured back. Turning to the beaming hosts, the mage smiled. ‘Lucky for us all I adore magic tricks.’

Ser Laurent clapped loudly, his deep voice booming in delight. ‘Jolly good, jolly good! I say, we could all do with a bit of magic eh? Be a good lad and show us what you’ve got.’

Rolling up his sleeves, Jowan entertained his guests with several tricks. He made books disappear, and fire appear in the centre of wine glasses as he clicked his fingers. He even produced a gold coin from behind Lady Laurent’s ear, to the great delight of the room. After much applause and copious amounts of laughter, Jowan bowed to the guests and returned to his seat.

‘Show off.’ teased Leliana, making room for the mage beside her ‘How did you manage the one with the coin?’

Jowan tapped his nose playfully. ‘A magician never reveals his tricks.’

The spymaster groaned and the mage chuckled.

  
‘Well my beautiful Divine, I think the wifey and I shall retire for the night.’ chuckled Ser Laurent, standing up wonkily ‘Thank you all for making this a spectacular evening! Top notch I say! Tell the Chantry they have our support. Any time you need a favour we will be happy to oblige.’

Leliana nodded in gratitude. ‘That is most appreciated, Ser Laurent.’

‘Oh yes it was simply wonderful.’ agreed Mirabelle with a yawn ‘We shall see you in the morning.’. Grabbing her sister’s hand and her husbands, the drunken trio departed the room.

With a warm expression Michel stood and bowed formerly to the guests as they departed. As the doors to the parlour closed once more, he turned to Jowan and Leliana and clutched his head in playful pretend torment.

‘Thank goodness that is over.’ he exclaimed.

‘I could have sworn you were having the time of your life?’ observed Jowan.

Michel chuckled, retrieving his wine glass from the table. ‘Orlesian social etiquette is an act mastered over time. To smile when one wants to frown. To be agreeable when the company is quite the opposite. To ask questions when you have no interest in the answer, and to listen with the appearance of being nothing but fascinated.’. Michel shook his head. ‘No. There was little I found pleasurable about this evening.’. He drew his eyes to Leliana ‘Aside from the apparent beauty in the room.’

‘Is flattery also apart of Orlesian social etiquette?’ mused Leliana.

‘But of course, as you well know.’ acknowledge Michel ‘However you outshone the room tonight and that is a fact.’. Turning to Jowan, Michel nodded at the mage. ‘What you said about that stable hand showed more heart than those three combined. For what it is worth, I was humbled by your defence of the elf. Perhaps not all your true colours are as abhorrent as I imagined?’

‘Not as abhorrent, but still abhorrent nevertheless.’ teased Leliana, playfully jabbing Jowan in the leg.

The mage returned the gesture, running his nimble fingers at her neck in an attempt to tickle the woman. Leliana cried out in laughter, drawing away from the man.

Michel threw an amused look at Spymaster, who fiddled with the chain around her neck as she smiled at the men. ‘Leliana forgive my openness but you simply have lit up the room this evening. I feel ashamed for not noticing it until now but your elegance and grace is breathtaking.’

The Spymaster raised her brows in surprise, appearing gobsmacked at the sentiments of a man that had always been rather hostile towards her. And for good reason.

‘Why..thank you?’ she replied uncertainly.

Michel nodded, finishing off his wine. ‘You are most welcome. Now, I think I shall retire for the night. Jowan. Leliana.’. With a small bow and a leap in his semi-intoxicated step, the chevalier departed the room, leaving the pair alone.

Jumping out of her chair, Leliana retreated to the butler’s tray laden with liquor. ‘Another drink then?’ she called out. She poured two glasses of wine before turning back to the man. ‘Try this wine, it is delicious.’ remarked Leliana, sweeping back to the mage.

‘Oh no not for me, I don’t think I’ll be able to ride anywhere in the morning.’ protested Jowan.

‘Then stay in bed and sleep away the morning.’ grinned Leliana, handing over a glass.

‘Trouble maker.’ grinned the mage. He accepted the beverage with a nod, bringing the glass to his lips. Taking a sip, he paused a moment. ‘It has a somewhat bitter taste to it, like the last one you poured for me. Must be a pinot noir?’

‘Who knows.’ shrugged Leliana ‘It was in the glass decanter. I like the bitterness, and knowing the Laurents I’m certain it’s expensive.’

Sitting back beside the mage, now closer than before, Leliana smiled at Jowan. ‘I meant what I said,’ she remarked a little softer ‘You look so very handsome tonight.’

Again a warmth within Jowan stirred, something he had not felt in a very long time. A burning heat under his skin and a flighty sensation in his stomach. He could not help but notice Leliana’s lips, flushed pink and ripe like a peach. Was it wrong that he wondered at that moment what it would feel like to kiss those lips?

Jowan took another sip of wine, an amused smile on his lips. ‘A tight waistcoat doesn’t do anyone justice.’ he dismissed lightly.

‘Perhaps,’ shrugged Leliana ‘but your tall physique, long black hair, raven eyes, pale skin and rugged stubble certainly does you a lot of justice.’

His heart raced as he heard the compliments spill from her mouth. So rare was it to be praised, he hardly knew how to answer. And thankfully he didn’t need to as he felt Leliana draw her hands to his jaw. Gently she placed a kiss on his lips and the warmth in him grew. The flutter in his stomach returned as he tasted her mouth, a burning desire building up within him as he parted his lips and explored her mouth with his tongue.

It was strange, for Jowan had tasted those lips before as Athalwolf and yet here at this moment he had never felt so aroused with Leliana. Every part of her, from her touch, taste, sound and smell, was captivating. A goddess that had him mesmerised. His hands wanted to caress every part of her body. To run over that pale skin and explore what lay beneath that corset and skirt. Perhaps it was the copious amount of Orlesian wine he had drank all night, but something in him knew that one taste of Leliana’s lips would never be enough.

_He wanted more._

And in in his shame he knew that he would seek it. Not that desire was something to regret or languish in a state of reproach. But knowing that he desired the affection of another seemed something that he had felt deep down that he was unworthy of. The jewel in a crown that he oft looked at but would never touch. For ever since his first memory on this strange realm, full of chaos and beauty, he had never been on the receiving end of love. Never been deserving of it, or so life led himself to believe. And over the years it proved a solid theory, as he languished in a state of perpetual isolation. No one would love him and that was because he was unlovable. And so the years progressed and he turned to what he could control. His magic. The trade of his fingers. That was the wicked path he walked down, where darkness and fear filled an otherwise empty void that was his unlovable heart. And yet now he he sat with someone who was willing to bestow what he utmost craved. And in this late hour he did not have will or the desire to turn it away.

Sweeping his hands up into her ginger hair he hungrily kissed her again, eager to explore the path untraveled….


	77. The Maker’s Chosen

_For in his heart he could not fathom why emptiness prevailed,_

_it brimmed with hope to find a love that years gone had sailed away…._

Lips parted gently, his soft breathing could be heard in the quiet of the room. A gentle inhale and exhale as his lay peacefully with his cheek flat against the plump feather pillow. Loose black hair spilled across the white cotton, his eyelids fluttered every now and then as he succumbed to a world of dreams.

Leliana watched Jowan sleep, in awe at the man before her. He was the one that the Maker had chosen to perform such an incredible task. Yet here he was, just a man, sleeping the night away like any other. Vulnerable, like any other. Falling into temptation, just like any other. A whirlwind of hands and lips and sickly sentiments that would be shattered by morning. The sweet whispers of her beauty nauseated her, such was the crude man’s way. That praised her for her shape and softness rather than her accomplishments. Her green eyes outshone her talent and for that she despised them all.

_Everyone except Cullen…_

The templar knew that the line of lust and admiration were far apart. Cullen was the only man to truly admire her for what she was. Her artful skills of being an assassin and the painstaking dedication she applied to her work. She was a master of wit, intelligence and strength. Cullen saw all of this and relished it. Not for her fiery hair, hourglass shaped body, flushed lips and pale skin. Naturally he enjoyed all that but he knew that was not the pinnacle of what she was. Those were mere trifles in a larger game. Cullen was in love with her mind and she was in love with his, for they shared the same chaotic maze. A beautiful mandala full of darkness and light.

That was why she loved the templar and that was why she would never let him go.

Jowan had done his part and now she could leave.

Clasping the carnelian stone in her hand tightly, Leliana softly snuck out of the room. She bit her lip, concealing a laugh. It had been surprisingly easy to place the stone on her belly button during coitus. An eager lover ready to engage was hardly concerned with the quirks of another who falsely claimed it was an Orlesian trick to enhance the pleasure of the moment. She smiled and declared to her lover, when in Orlais do as the Orlesians. Lies, fabrications, pretend desire and false affection. None of it concerned Leliana apart from obtaining Jowan’s seed, which she took in her with great satisfaction.

The hallway of Monte-Gaudin Manor was dark and she shuffled her way forward, eagerly towards Morrigan’s guest chamber door. The Spymaster would waste no more time. Tonight was the night she would conceive the Maker’s Chosen. It was glorious. It was destiny.

_Praise be the Maker….._


	78. The Dungeon Master

Late into the evening, my concentration was waning as I scrawled an acid arrow spell from Jowan’s notes into a roughly bound tomb he had created called Magicae et Idiotae. It was the type of monotonous work that sent one’s mind daydreaming, and at present I was doing just that. Looking around me, the other mages in the room were on a similar page. There were heavy heads slumped on bored hands, blankly reading passages that would never seep in. Even the sound of snoring could be heard from an older mage tucked in the corner, using a stack of parchments as a pillow. Many things had changed since the mages were freed from the circle towers, but I suspected some things never would.

Shaking my writing hand, I recommenced the painful task of scribing only to be distracted as several of the mages straightened up in their seats rather quickly. The scrape on the wood of chairs being moved, and heels drawing to a stand banged across the room as the mages looked to the entrance of the tower. Curiously I also turned my attention to see what the matter was, and as my eyes met the man at the door I could see why the mages were on high alert.

Silently Cullen stood before the room, his eyes running across the place with slight disdain. It was one of the rare occasions that the man armoured his Commander garb. His cotton shirt was a deep crimson, his pants and boots black. He looked casual and yet held a dignified air of one who holds a high rank. Several apprentices shied away, moving aside as he walked slowly into the room. Calm and collected, with a hint of hierarchy. It was second nature for most of these mages to fear the templar who interrupted their work, and this templar was the Knight-Commander. The highest ranking monster of them all, or so many secretly feared.

Cullen locked eyes with me and I threw him a half-smile, half-frown. What on earth was he doing wandering about the mages circle at this hour of night?

‘Everyone leave except the Inquisitor.’ he ordered sharply. His voice was authoritative. Indeed he sounded like a templar ordering his charges.

Although I chuckled at the order, no one dared question the man or offer a smile of their own. Leaving books half opened and potions half brewed, my robed comrades scurried out the door, eager not to make eye contact with the Commander. The room was empty in less than half a second, and I looked around the abandoned tower in bewilderment.

‘They never listen to me like that. It would take an hour to get them moving, and that’s after I’ve threatened them half a dozen times. Maybe I should become a templar?’. Flashing a smile to the man, I shook my head in amused disapproval. ‘You know the mages are already on edge about the templars, especially ever since Rylen rode in with the Ferelden Order in tow. You really shouldn’t be coming in here and being so stern wi-’

‘Stop talking and that is an order.’ the Commander ordered abruptly. He approached, his hard demeanour unnerving as he looked down at me coldly. ‘Not another word.’ he warned ‘Come, you and I are going for a little walk.’

There was a menacing glint in his eye and I wasn’t certain whether he was joking or being serious. The firm grasp on my upper arm as he pushed me out of the tower suggested he was being serious. Silently the Commander pulled me along the dark battlements, my arm aching as I desperately tried to keep up with it. As Cullen descended the battlements I would have fallen down the stairs had it not been for the man’s painful grip, and he continued to drag me across the shadowy courtyard without one word. Each time I tried to speak, Cullen would walk faster and squeeze my arm tighter.

‘You’re hurting me.’ I protested, pulling back from the man.

Cullen refused to release me, only throwing a swift side glance as he continued to walk. ‘Good,’ he muttered ‘now shut that mouth of yours or there will be consequences.’

Approaching the Skyhold dungeon, an Inquisition soldier stood guard. His eyes held fast ahead, stepping promptly aside for the Commander and I to enter, before resuming his position in front of the entrance. The dungeon was dark and dank, a murky place that no one cared to explore. The vast emptiness and icy air from the cracks in the walls made it a terrible place to reside in, and despite only the worst criminals ending up here I couldn’t help but pity the poor souls who found their way to this place.

‘Cullen what are we doing here?’ I whispered nervously. There was nothing pleasant about this place. Nothing at all.

Cullen’s pulled me along with him as I lagged and I tried to pull back again with more force. With an amused smirk, he dragged me through an old wooden door into a softly lit room. Once we had entered, he secured the latch on the squeaking door and turned to face me.

‘There is no one in the dungeons at present, so no one will hear your protests.’ warned Cullen, rolling up his crimson sleeves to his elbows.

‘Cullen, what is this?’ I asked, revealing a tentative smile.

His face was stern, swiftly grabbing my shoulders and pushing me off-guard, backwards for several steps until I felt the cold stones of the dungeon on my back. They pressed hard into my skin and I drew my breath sharp.

‘Seriously Cul-

‘Do not speak unless I ask you to.’ Cullen barked, holding me firm ‘You don’t like taking orders, do you? What do I have to do to make you fucking listen?!!’

Running his hand to the pocket of his pants he withdrew a red silk cord, placing it over his shoulder. He patted it gently, as if it were precisely where it was meant to be. It was confusing, the way he changed from a storm into a calm breeze. The peace of the moment deceived me once more as suddenly, with furious hands, Cullen’s hands moved to my top and began to undress me. His hands ripped at my tunic with such strength that buttons flew to the ground. A cruel smile on his lips, he dropped the torn piece of clothing onto the floor. My cream cotton undershirt was then pulled over my head promptly, also cast aside as he ran his eyes over my naked torso. I dared not say a word, fearing his wrath. Although secretly, I desired more of it.

Anticipating words from my mouth, Cullen drew a flat finger to my lips. ‘Not a word.’ he ordered, a little softer this time.

Promptly he unbuckled my belt, pulling my hips as he yanked it off me, before falling to his knees and sliding off my boots, one by one. His eyes refused to look at me, too preoccupied with the task at hand to be bothered to notice I was there. When I was naked before him, he stood once more, brushing his hands in satisfaction.

My eyes examined the room, finally taking in my surroundings. It appeared to be some kind of study set up with interrogation equipment, more commonly known as torture devices. Yet this wasn’t a typical torture chamber filled with racks and screws, for this one had a fireplace in the corner and a desk. Most likely it was an office used by whoever was in charge of this horrid place. Could that have been Cullen’s job also? A small part of me hoped that it wasn’t. Turning my attention to the walls I noticed there were shackles and chains with leather cuffs coming from the ceiling. A rack of weapons rested by the wall, and burning candles lay scattered in the corners of the room.

A room set up for punishment. It was now more than apparent that Cullen wished to play Master in the dungeon, and it had begun before I even knew it. It had been many months since we had been intimate with each other and I had been expecting something different from this. A soft and tender reunion perhaps? I should have known better.

With gentle fingers interlaced in mine he escorted me to the centre of the room and lifted my hands into cuffs above my head. Cullen buckled my wrists securely and adjusted the chain so it pulled me up ever so slightly on the tips of my toes with my back at an arch. I hung there helpless and exposed, the flush in my cheeks burning as Cullen refused to say a word. Short breaths growing faster, I twisted in my bondage trying to see the man and what he was up to. My arms began to burn from being stretched up above my head, and my heart felt as if it was beating out of my chest.

The Commander appeared at my side, and came to face me. His amber eyes burned with a passion as he softly cupped my cheeks, rubbing his thumb across my bottom lip.

‘Shhhh,’ Cullen murmured ‘you know I must do this. After the way you left your Master all those months ago, surely you must have known there would be consequences?’

‘Yes but I came bac-‘

Reaching to his shoulder, Cullen grabbed the silk cord and swiftly placed it between my teeth, wrapped it several times across my mouth and around the back of my head.

‘You don’t need to talk.’ he remarked calmly ‘This is so you don’t wail and alert the guard outside. I told him I want no one coming in here and what would he think if he heard the Inquisitor cry out?’. The Commander placed a kiss on my cheek, his lips drawing closer to me ear. ‘And I intend on making you scream, don’t you worry about that. When you are particularly bad as you have been recently I take away your right to use your safe word. Your control is now in my hands and there will be no mercy for you tonight.’

Hands on my shoulders, the Commander roughly spun me to face the weapons rack.

‘In Kirkwall my duty required me to flog the occasional mage.’ Cullen informed me casually ‘Terrible, I know. What is more terrible is the fact that I enjoyed it. Of course I never did as Meredith instructed, using a cat o’ nine tails to strip the skin from the back of my subjects. Such barbarism is hardly worth the effort. Where’s the pleasure in breaking the skin into a bloody pulp? No behind closed doors I’d always choose a leather flogger, laying my work on a bare back and thighs. Now that was exquisite. The red lines planted on their flesh, it was like painting them with my anger. Perverse art at its finest, and I was a wonderful artist Ophelia. The cries and whimpers were music to my ears as I flogged them over and over again, exposing their skin and the rawness of the emotions. Exposing themselves to me in the most intimate situation; them being at my mercy. You cannot imagine the bond you create with someone when you are in control of lashing them while they are bound. A venereal act of carnal nature. Sensual and brutal all at the same time. Exquisite.’. Cullen revealed a dark smile as he ran his hand to his neck, deeply massaging the knots. ‘Maker’s breath you cannot imagine the incredible hardness that caused me. The arousal of seeing someone bound before me, and I responsible for their pain. Helpless and mine to do whatever I pleased.’

Although I could see the pleasure visibly on Cullen’s face, I could hear the lust in his voice even more so. His footsteps drew near and I saw him come behind me. A pair of large hands moved around to my chest, roughly grabbing my breasts as soft lips fell to my neck. Cullen’s hot breath ran along my neck and back, lips lingering as he pushed his body up against mine. His dick prodded my arse through his clothes, a rock hardness already apparent. Unable to move my arms, I desperately want to touch the man but was unable. Noticing my writhing, Cullen chuckled and pulled away.

‘I’d apologise for your predicament Ophelia but I enjoy seeing you bound with chains.’ he confessed ‘The fact that you are a mage makes it all that more enjoyable. Once a templar, always a templar. Isn’t that what you say? It’s true, you know? Mages. You’re all so hopelessly dependent. I’ve never fucked a mage before you. Does that surprise you? You probably thought Sierra….well I did play with her in many other ways but no I never rutted any mage in the traditional sense. But deep down though I secretly desired to sully myself with one of your kind. It shocked me at first, lying in my bed at night in the circle tower, my hands oiling this insatiable erection as I imagined it being buried in one of my charges. Fucking them in some dark nook when no one was watching. All I could think was what would it feel like to ram my templar cock hard into one of the Maker’s fallen? Templars oversee every part of a mage’s existence in the circle, as you well know. It’s a voyeuristic mind fuck after a while, watching you all sleep and eat and converse and read and Maker knows what other tedious nonsense you all do, day in day out. And I, always watching. You begin to fantasise about what else you could watch. What else you could do. I craved the forbidden fruit but I loathed it at the same time. When I joined the Inquisition still I had never had experienced the taste. Ahhh, but when I saw you in Haven I knew you would be the perfect one. A pet. I considered you a pet but now I know I was wrong. I’ve had pets before and they were nothing like you. My pets were more defiant, more often than not I’d have to break them in to make them see who their master was. Who they were before they met me was soon moulded in my hands. But with you? With you in was different. I would walk into the main hall at Haven and instantly you would lower your eyes when I looked your way. You submitted before I even said a word. Obedient and dependent, just as a good slave should be. You, Ophelia, have been my slave ever since we met, and that makes you very special to me. The most special of them all.’

He eased the binding off my mouth, letting the rope rest around my neck. With his hands buried deep in my hair, Cullen’s lips fell to my mouth. The tease of his warm tongue melted into me and kiss after kiss he refused to relent as he unleashed his desire. Occasionally the templar would bite my lower lip, pulling it with him as he moved his head back. Cullen would then growl in satisfaction, falling into another passionate open mouthed kiss. My arms ached and so did between my legs, an unquenchable desire that was burning within. Cullen’s eyes looked into mine, a sinister smile on his lips as he finally pried away.

‘Shall we commence the flagellation?’ he smiled darkly, securing the silk cord between my teeth once more.

The Commander turned away before I could even mumble an answer into my cord. Walking over to a richly polished wooden rack, neatly lined with floggers and whips, the man paused. He ran his hand across several, slowly stroking the leather in a seductive manner, appreciating the tools before him. My eyes fearfully beheld a rattan cane, several floggers of different sizes, a bull whip and a leather rod. His fingers tapped the whip, as if contemplating whether to use it, before moving to the long cane. However his hand finally wrapped around the hilt of a thick leather flogger, securing his grasp tight.

‘Have you ever been flogged before? Cullen murmured, admiring the instrument he held ‘I mean really flogged. Inflicted hard by another who had real anger in their hand?’

Cullen looked to me, as if expecting an answer. Heart racing all I could do was shake my head.

‘There’s nothing like it, you know?’ smiled Cullen ‘Every flogger is different. Some land a sharp sting with narrow tails, some a dull thud with wider tails. There are those that will hurt you and those that are gentler. But I think you need something a little more intense, don’t you? After all you’re here to be punished so we need some pain. Not too much, but some nevertheless.’. The templar patted the flogger lightly in his palm ‘Eight narrow tails, leather, twenty-four inches. Yes that is perfect for my slave.’

In a purposively slow manner, Cullen made his way behind me. The light slap of the leather on his palm sounding over and over as he silently stood there.

Thwip…thwip…thwip

My breathing was growing faster, caught in that moment of suspense, knowing that impact was inevitable but not knowing when. Cullen enjoyed this tactic. Of being in control but using his silence to let me know his actions were unpredictable. To purposively throw me off-guard for his own amusement. I wondered if he played such games with the mages in Kirkwall? I wondered if some of them had enjoyed it? Or had they feared him? The man was anger and sex, wrapped tightly in a large frame of muscle and virility. Who wouldn’t fear that and secretly desire it?

Thwip…thwip…thwip…crack!

The first round of lashes on my back sent me jolting in surprise, the bite of the leather strips leaving a sharp sting. My discomfort was Cullen’s arousal and I knew he enjoyed cries of protest, no matter how fearful I was feeling at the moment. I refused to give him what he craved and remained quiet.

A second round landed on my upper thighs caused me to jump again, the pain more sensitive on such a tender area. I could hear Cullen’s deep breathing behind, heavy and lustful as he continued to lash my arse and thighs several more times. At this point the pain on my skin was growing from warm to hot, and I began to cry out into my bindings as the leather hit my flesh.

The Commander paused to hear my whimpers, and I could have sworn that was the only reason he stopped. As I quietened down the flogging recommenced, and this time he began to use a more forceful hand. He grunted as he flogged, using his stamina to hit hard. Indeed the man was savage, and an echo of the templar he may have been in Kirkwall was introduced to me. One that did not enjoy holding back. Each lashing produced a savage growl from his throat as he flogged harder and harder. 

My mind now racing, every part of me felt like it was on fire. Pain in my flesh and heat burning within, my arms stretched upwards as if begging the Maker for clemency. Pain and pleasure, pain and pleasure. My senses were drowning in confusion and merging the two together. I cried and screamed into my bindings as the man continued to land the leather strips across my buttocks. It continued for an eternity and tears spilled from my eyes as the pain became unbearable.

As if he sensed I had reached my limits, Cullen stopped suddenly. ‘Andraste preserve me, if you could see how red your skin is.’ he murmured breathlessly. The templar approached closer, and I could feel the leather handle of the flogger move up between my naked thighs. Cullen eased it up into my cunt, running his hands lightly over my back as he slowly pushed the instrument further up between my swollen lips.

‘That’s the way,’ he cooed ‘just a little further.’

I bit into the silken cord, surprised at how good it felt to be toyed with. Primal instinct took over and all I wanted was to be fucked. Be it by a handle or cock, it didn’t matter anymore.

‘You're dripping…Maker look at those exquisite juices around your lips.’ Cullen growled from behind me, inserting the handle deeper. ‘Shall we play a game? I want you to use your muscles and hold that handle in your exquisite cunny. You are not to bring your legs together, am I understood? If the flogger falls, I commence the punishment again. Sound fair?’

At first it seemed an easy task, and yet time dragged on in silence and I could feel the heavy instrument slipping away. I could feel Cullen’s silent eyes watching me. Desperately I tried to hold on, twisting my hips and squeezing tight but before I knew it, it was too late. The flogger fell to the ground with a thud.

Cullen chuckled behind me. ‘I guess that means more punishment then?’

The Commander moved in front of me, his libidinous amber eyes filled with delight as he enjoyed my nakedness. His deft fingers ran to his crimson shirt, unbuttoning from top to bottom before slowly pulling it off his naked abdomen. The muscular bulge of his tanned pectoral muscles drew in deep and steady breaths, and his white scar covered stomach held a rippled firmness. Cullen’s body was tight and trim, one of a soldier that trained often and trained hard. His frame was so much larger than the average man, it made me feel so aroused to be in the company of such a broad and beastly warrior.

With a playful smile Cullen stretched his bulging arms from side to side, as if warming up for some endurance training. Lowering his head to view his belt, his fingers began to unbuckle before he looked up quickly, catching my hungry eyes. A smirk on lips, he continued to undress, throwing his belt to the ground and easing down his trousers. Cullen’s mutton dagger sprung out erect and brutally hard, the thick member standing mast high and bouncing mid-air before me. 

‘Tut tut tut. You see what you’ve done to me?’ he observed, his left hand reaching around his cock as his right bent to pick up the flogger from the ground. 

Raising the instrument, he begun to flog at my thighs. Soft but firm, and it left a sting. He explored flogging my hips and stomach as he slowly stroked his erection up and down. His cock was hard in his grip, and he continued to pump leisurely as the leather hit my flesh.

Over and over, the pain continued and Cullen’s arousal grew. His thumb ran over the tip of his dick and I noticed the smeared wetness of pre-cum greasing his pole. He moaned softly, continuing to stroke his hard cock as he lashed me. I cried out after each strike and Cullen moaned louder in turn, the white of his teeth flashing me a seductive smile.

Surrendering to his bestial needs, Cullen finally threw the flogger hard on the stone floor and drew up to his bound prize. His carnal eyes bore into mine as he approached, a physical and barbarous man claiming his offering. Aiming his cock at my wet cunt he rammed it in without warning, the thickness of his large member making passage tightly. My head tilted back in unbridled ecstasy as the Commander moaned an animalistic grunt and he filled me to his balls. His arms wrapped under my arms and gripped my shoulders tight, and Cullen began to fuck, savagely unleashing himself into the furious procession of grunts and thrusts. His heavy dick impaled me effortlessly in swift repetition. Over and over again he rammed his hard prick with increasing force. Bound and unable to move, all I could do was stand there, open and available for the templar to thrust into. The man took advantage of this and refused to hold back as he ravished me, fucking harder and harder and harder. I cried into the rope in my mouth and silently prayed Cullen would never stop.

His firm grip turned into nails, digging into my shoulders as he continued to fuck firmly. It was painful and I whimpered. Cullen cursed my name under his breath and thrust harder.

‘I know it hurts.’ he growled ‘Master knows. Succumb to it, all that wonderful pain and ecstasy. This is what I am trying to teach you every time I fuck you.’. His nails broke through my flesh and I felt the warm trickle of blood fall down my chest. My hands still bound, all I could do was writhe about as he pierced my skin. Cullen slowed his cock to bring his lips to my nipples, sucking the blood that lingered at the peaks. ‘It is too much.’ he groaned, like a wounded beast. His pelvis thrust deep and the templar whimpered, teetering on the line of no return. ‘Maker how I want you.’

Roughly Cullen grabbed my thighs and lifted them up around his waist, his hands strongly holding my buttocks as he continued to ram himself into my desperate cunt.

‘Fuuuuuuuck!!!’ he roared, unable to stop the rutting that grew faster and faster, shaking me about like a ragdoll. Utterly helpless as the Commander sated himself, I opened my belly to him and gave myself over to the ravaging. That erotic act overwhelmed me, of submitting entirely to him. He could take what he wanted and go deep as he chose. Do as he liked. Perhaps he was right? Perhaps I had always been his. I wanted to be his slave and allow him to fuck me and torture me and driving me fucking….

Screaming into my silk cord I came. Cullen roared out as he released his seed, his savage voice echoing in the dungeon. Jolt after jolt, he continued to release himself, his beastly act of carnal seeding shaking his body as he wrapped his muscular arms around my waist and held me deep on his cock.

‘Uggghhh.’ he moaned, the sharp spurts now subsiding into slow thrusts once more. The templar was panting, and his eyes lulled back as he remained in me. Using one hand he unbound my mouth, pulling the rope down to plant a deep kiss on my mouth. Cullen groaned, delving deeper with his tongue as he remained deep inside me, unwilling to break the connection.

‘Is it wrong of me to wish you could stay like this, bound here for me to use whenever I want?’ murmured Cullen, bestowing another kiss on my mouth.

Still shaking in pleasure, I revealed a satisfied grin. ‘Is it wrong that I want that too?’

The templar chuckled as he pulled out of me, revealing copious lashings of white sticky seed smeared over his dick and my labia. He gently lowered my legs to the ground once more. Cullen growled, rubbing his cream across my lips, scooping more to massage on my belly and breasts. A depraved and yet erotic act, smearing his essence over his possession in some wild ritual of his own. Cullen scooped more from my lips and continued to massage me with his cream, his hands pressure deep into my skin as he rubbed and rubbed.

‘You look so exquisite.’ Cullen murmured ‘I couldn’t imagine a more perfect image if I tried.’

Noticing my arms shaking he quickly unbuckled my hands and released me from the chain. The blood rushed back as my limbs lowered to my side. The sensation was a rush and I fell to me knees, my arms screaming in pain. It was too much. Cullen swept me up in his own strong arms, drawing me from the ground. Swiftly he carried me by the fire and sat me on his naked lap as he rested on the cold stones.

‘You can use me whenever you want, but between you and me my arms are now officially burning.’ I grimaced, placing a kiss on the templars cheek.

Gently Cullen began to massage the muscles in my arms, slowly kneading with gentle fingers. ‘The first time is always the most painful.’ acknowledged the Commander ‘You’ll be feeling it for a few days. Your arms, your back…your shoulders.’. He placed several tender kisses on the fresh wounds. ‘Maker help me, whipping gets me aroused but it has never felt so intense. So erotic.’. Cullen drew a breath and exhaled deeply. ‘I must be careful with you. Every part of me screams to devour you and that inner demon can’t be tamed. I don’t want to hurt you, I’ve always said that. And yet I find myself wanting to. You are….aaah’. He closed his eyes, the memory of the pleasure filling him once more. ‘I have never felt anything like this.’

Nestling into his strong arms a small smile formed on my lips, knowing exactly what he meant. My head fell to his chest and listened to the strong thump thump thump. Cullen felt like home. In his arms, I was finally home.

‘I love you.’ I whispered, holding him tight.


	79. For King and Country

_Adamant Fortress_

_Western Approach_

_Dearest Sierra,_

_You have yet to visit me in Vyrantium so I assume your duties with the Grey Wardens keep you away at present. I don’t know how you maintain the charade after all these years, if I were you I’d have run the second they looked the other way!_

_Forgive me but I write on a matter of urgency that could not wait until your return. After many years of failed attempts and excessive cursing, we have finally been successful! For my own safety I will not go into the details of how I managed to procure this victorious recipe, although I am certain you can guess there was a third party willing to make a deal. Once again the practice of the sanguine arts have outsmarted modern magic, how the scholars would turn in the graves!_

_This potion removes the taint and I have enclosed a bottle for you and Alistair. Drink it and the taint in your blood will be destroyed. I needn’t remind you that although you both are a part of the Order you must never forget that you will no longer have the abilities of one. You will never have to fear hearing the calling one day that will lead you to your death. You are now free. Enjoy your new lives and live well._

_Kind Regards,_

_Charles Quillor_

_P.S. When you get the chance, come visit me. There are many opportunities for a woman of your talent up north and perhaps a new life awaits you and your beau in the Tevinter Imperium? _

_ _

Alistair beheld the green bottle in his hand with a gape. Already he had read the letter twenty-two times, over and over, trying to make sense of the words. The search for the cure for the curse of the Wardens, as Sierra liked to refer to it, had come to an end. It had been her personal plight for years. So often she would speak of a day when they would be free of the death sentence that bound them, and so often Alistair would nod and smile, knowing in his heart that there was no escape. A pang of sadness was felt every time he saw the hope in her eyes, knowing that he was in part responsible for the life sentence she held. Never a word left his mouth about the taint and what would happen to her once she joined the Grey Wardens. All those years back in Ostagar when he helped Sierra, Ser Jory and Daveth obtain the darkspawn blood that they would unwittingly consume at the Joining ceremony. Perhaps Ser Jory and Daveth had been the lucky ones? Sierra often muttered this to herself whenever she became fed up with her unsuccessful plight. She envied the ones that never faced the reality that their life was on borrowed time. That guilt had eaten away at Alistair, and he was happy for Sierra to pursue that dream with no protest, despite knowing how pointless it was.

_For what Warden had ever escaped the final call?_

Alistair refused to destroy Sierra’s hope and although he never wanted her to leave his side, he let her go on her many expeditions and encouraged her pursuit. What he did not know, and what Sierra had concealed from him, was that she was seeking help from another malificar named Charles Quillor. Via the foulness of blood magic this mage had successfully created a potion to remove the taint from a Grey Warden. All of Sierra’s hope at a new life was here in his hands. And all he need do now was drink….

‘Alistair?’ remarked a concerned voice.

Turning his head, Alistair caught sight of Eamon at the door of his study. The man was looking quite mature these days, but his greying features did not diminish the sprightliness in his blue-grey eyes as he looked to the king.

‘You called for me?’ observed Eamon ‘Your personal attendant barged into the library, knocked over a stack of books and informed me you required an audience urgently.’

‘I’m sorry if I interrupted something you were doing.’ apologised Alistair, beckoning the man into his study. Hastily he cleared the papers from the wooden seat, where a collection of royal documents were fast piling up.

The regent looked fondly at the man, an amused curl on his lip as he took a seat. ‘You are the king now Alistair, there is no need to apologise for requesting a moment of my time. Even if you were not king, you were always like a son to me. I’m here whenever you need me, to help as best I can.’

‘Well funny you should offer that.’ observed Alistair with a nervous laugh ‘Help, that is. Because now would be a really good time to get some. Things have gone a little, oh I don’t know…pear shaped. As in, the midden has hit officially the windmill.’. Alistair shook his head, thrusting the letter at Eamon. ‘A letter arrived this morning. It was sent to Adamant Fortress and redirected here. It was intended for Sierra, but I think you can tell from its contents that it also involves me.’

Curiously Eamon accepted the correspondence and carefully read it, his face growing longer as he consumed the words before him. Finally a sharp pair of blue-grey eyes lifted to the king, full of concern.

‘Is this in earnest?’ he asked nervously ‘Alistair tell me the truth and tell me now, are you living on borrowed time as a Grey Warden?’

Alistair sighed, turning away from Eamon. There was no easy way to tell someone the dismal truth, warden or not. ‘It is Eamon. Every Grey Warden holds the same fate. We drink the blood of the darkspawn, that is how we become Grey Wardens. We carry the taint. The taint creates us and over time slowly kills us. Poetical, isn’t it?’

The regent looked overwhelmed, casting a fearful look to the king, as if at any moment Alistair would collapse dead on the floor. However soon the dreaded frown on his brow grew deeper and deeper, transforming into a rage. Eamon looked furious, his fist clenched as he rose from his chair and began to pace the room. The usually calm and collected man was now seething.

‘How could they?’ he spat ‘You are not some commoner seeking a steady weeks wage. You are King Maric’s son for crying out loud! Never have I heard of such a blatant disregard for the longevity and wellbeing of a royal bloodline. Duncan swore to look out for you. By the Maker he swore it to Maric’s face. He pledged to be a guardian for his son, not bloody well deceive him into a blasted death sentence! Thank the Maker Duncan is not alive today or I would throttle the cad black and blue before executing him myself.’

Alistair drew closer and placed a calming hand on the arm of the regent, a sad smile on his face. ‘Eamon I do not think Duncan did what he did to be malicious. He was an honourable man that offered me something that no one else was able to. A purpose.’

Eamon frowned. ‘Perhaps you saw purpose, but to Duncan all you were was another number to his cause. He should never have dragged you into that. He chose to squander your life and I will despise him for doing that as long as I live.’

‘You forget that I was a little lost before Duncan came into my life.’ observed Alistair with a raised brow ‘When I was sent away from your castle I truly believed that I had been abandoned at the Chantry. I hated it there, Maker knows I did. You knew that also if I recall correctly. I told you on the odd occasion you bothered to show up to pay me a visit. Do not criticise Duncan for pulling me out of that place. The best thing to ever happen to me was to become a Grey Warden.’

‘To my everlasting regret I let the insecurities of a woman get in-between us and for that I apologise with all my heart.’ mourned Eamon wistfully ‘Had I been stronger and just put my foot down. Had I insisted you stay at Redcliff Castle, things could have been so different for you. I am so sorry.’. He placed an apologetic hand on Alistair’s. ‘Isolde was foolish enough to believe the rumours that you were my son. Or should I say, my bastard son. It was not enough that I, her husband, refuted these claims. No, in her head you were already my son. And perhaps she was right, for in my heart you were a son to me and still are. Yet look what I did? I sent you to the Chantry and then left you in the care of a fool that has now robbed you of your life. Andraste help me I am sickened with guilt, never will I forgive myself. Your father’s spirit would be furious at what has happened.’. The regent hastily moved to the desk. ‘There is nothing to it then.’. Determinedly he picked up the green bottle and held it towards Alistair. ‘You must drink this.’

‘Riiiiight, because drinking some unknown potion made by a little evil blood mage doesn’t seem a little, oh I don’t know, reckless?’ observed Alistair cynically, folding his arms against his chest.

Eamon scoffed at the concerns of the templar. ‘Sierra would not have sought out to poison both of you. And from reading this letter, it appears she and Charles were not on bad terms? He asks her to come visit him. Would he do that if he intended to poison you both? Of course not! You have little choice Alistair, you must have faith in Sierra and drink.’

Alistair frowned, looking at the bottle with suspicion. ‘Yes but Eamon it’s blood magic. Surely nothing good can come of it? And this Charles, whoever he is, makes mention of making some sort of deal. Somehow I don’t think he was talking about trading carrots for a bag of apples?’

‘Considering the options before you, you cannot afford to be picky, my boy.’ dismissed Eamon impatiently.

‘Nothing good can come of it Eamon.’

‘Except saving your life.’ retorted Eamon sharply. He looked vexed. Like a man that feared the worst, and perhaps with good reason. There was one true royal bloodline and Eamon had fought for years to ensure that a Theirin sat once again upon the Ferelden throne. Now was not the time to throw it all away. Even if that meant succumbing to the one thing he despised more than anything. ‘My lad, you know how much I loathe blood magic. You better than anyone knows it almost claimed my life. All it took was one malificar to threaten all that I held dear. All it took was one malificar to teach Connor magic and ruin his chances of ever living a normal life. To this very day the townsfolk fear him as if he were part-malificar.’. Eamon looked grave, as if even after all these years it still affected him greatly. A wound that would never heal. ‘Despite living through all that, I still will say this; if this potion can save your life then you must drink it.’

Alistair turned his attention back on the potion. ‘I cannot believe there is potion that will remove this taint. It was a dream and nothing more. I never thought Sierra would find a way.’

Eamon nodded gently in encouragement. ‘It is a gift from Sierra from beyond the grave. Things like that can happen. Thank her spirit for giving you this chance at a new life. Thank her and drink.’

The words tugged at Alistair’s heart strings. Perhaps Eamon was right? For such a miracle to be delivered to him at a time when his fate was uncertain. No one knew when the calling would occur, but Alistair had been a warden for nearly fourteen years. Even he knew that his time was drawing to an end.

‘Fine,’ he conceded ‘but if I turn into a donkey you’re the first one I’m coming after.’

The regent watched the templar like a hawk, eager for the potion to be consumed. ‘You know what you must do.’ he encouraged.

Alistair sighed, looking at the bottle. ‘It’d make a good story at least? The rightful king finally claims the throne only to lose it by drinking a strange potion delivered to him by a blood mage. Yep, that’ll guarantee me a place in history as the biggest laughing stock there ever was.’. Picking up at the bottle he drew a deep breath. ‘Sierra I hope you were right.’. Pulling the cork out, Alistair drank the entire contents right down to the last drop, grimacing in the aftermath. ‘Maker it tastes like bile.’ he spluttered ‘Gah….urgh!!!! That was quite possible the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, including the time I tried Oghren’s homemade sauerkraut.’

Eamon looked disheartened. ‘Alistair why did you never tell me about the fate of the wardens? Why didn’t you tell me you were dying?’

‘It was a secret of the Order,’ shrugged the templar ‘we weren’t supposed to tell outsiders. To be honest with you Eamon, it wasn’t something I wanted to think about. It’s funny how the wardens could put that one to the back of their mind. When you’re faced with a bad situation that you cannot change all you can do is move on. Enjoy the time that you have. Besides, if we went around telling everyone who would ever want to join?

‘Yes but you could have told me.’ protested Eamon.

‘What was to be gained from it?’ asked Alistair ‘Oh by the way, one day I’m going to be driven mad by something called The Calling and I’ll go on a nice little journey to the deep roads to my inevitable death. Yep thanks for the chat, really glad to get that one off my back. Now who’s up for some cheese and a game of Wicked Grace?’

‘This is not a joking matter.’ frowned Eamon. The regent turned towards the fire, resting his hands on the mantelpiece. ‘For your sake I pray to the Maker the potion works. But Alistair, we cannot rely on hope alone. Do you not see? I am sorry to burden you with this once more but…’. Eamon turned to the man sternly. ‘Alistair you must take a wife and sire an heir immediately. You cannot delay this any longer.’

‘Just give me ten minutes and I’m good to go.’ mused Alistair.

Eamon refused to smile, and Alistair sighed.

‘I know,’ groaned the king ‘Maker knows I know. But who? There is no one I care for, apart from Sierra. I do not love anyone in that way.’

Eamon chuckled, shaking his head sadly. ‘My lad, I’m sorry to say it but love has nothing to do with it. A king’s marriage should be one of alliance. To connect yourself with someone of power and noble birth. You are King Alistair of Ferelden. You can have whomever you fancy on the side, as your father Maric chose to do. But first and foremost you need a queen. A perfect token piece for all the realm to see and admire.’

‘Eamon that is not who I am.’ protested the templar ‘If I do not marry for love then why get married? I had a wife and I loved her dearly. Sierra has now been murdered and still the bastard who did it walks free. That is where I should be putting my energy towards at present. To see Cullen held accountable. There is nothing more that I want than for Cullen to be pained as I have been.’

The regent’s eyes darted to the king, a sudden thought creeping to mind. ‘The people of Ferelden love the Inquisition, do they not?’

Alistair shrugged ‘The Inquisition has a way about them that is very likeable. Welcoming. Heroic. Everyone loves a noble cause and that is what the Inquisition holds. Also their leader is one that most people still consider to be the actual Herald of Andraste. The people view the Inquisition as blessed by the Maker.’

Eamon nodded, tapping a finger on his palm. ‘Yes but the rulers across Thedas are of a different opinion, aren’t they? They see the Inquisition for what it is. An extremely powerful group that goes unchecked. Who would not be wary of a group that so many people in Thedas pledge allegiance to? Whose people pledge allegiance to a group that is not their own ruler.’

‘It is a good cause, naturally.’ observed Alistair ‘I suppose there has to be a bit of give and take when our lands are threatened by rifts and red templars and that mad git Corypheus.

‘Yes but the Inquisition is also a cause that asks too much of the Ferelden people and their way of life. Their resources are being put towards the Inquisition. Their finances and security. Their time. Their lives. It is so much to give to a cause that is not a part of one’s kingdom. The people of Ferelden will not abandon the fight, for courage runs strong in your people’s blood. But they also feel a bitterness at serving one that is not of their own. The people of Ferelden will serve their king, but to also serve an Inquisitor leaves unrest and resentment. I know this Alistair, I have listened to their grievances on a daily basis for nearly two years now.’

Alistair looked confused ‘Are you implying they are torn between a cause and their king?’

Eamon nodded. ‘How could they not be? To swear allegiance to an Inquisition, and to swear an allegiance to their King. They pay Ferelden taxes and they give the rest to the Inquisition. It is a burden they carry, and such a weight to carry also weakens your position. Unless….’. The regent paused, stroking his beard in consideration. ‘Alistair what if I told you there was a way to gain the complete loyalty of Ferelden and allow them to retain their sense of duty to the cause of the Inquisition? To satisfy that heroic part in them that knows they must help aid in the Inquisition. A way to put their minds at ease. What if there was a way so they could serve one and the same without that dividing line of leadership?’

‘Eamon I have no idea what you are talking about?’ exasperated Alistair, looking hopelessly puzzled ‘You’re not implying that I join the Inquisition, are you? If you are I’m sorry I am drawing a line there. Not a chance, it’s just not going to happen.’

The regent rubbed his hands together, recommencing his steady pace around the room. It was apparent he had already concluded the idea was the right choice but he needed to phrase it right to the king before him.

‘No I don’t mean that Alistair.’ responded Eamon ‘The Inquisitor, Ophelia Trevelyan, is well loved by the people of Ferelden. Her allegiance-’

His blue eyes blinked wide and Alistair held up his hands abruptly. ‘Wait wait wait, now hang on just one moment. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’. The king laughed, shaking his head. ‘You almost had me thinking for a moment….’. Noticing Eamon’s serious look, Alistair froze.

The regent nodded silently.

Frowning, Alistair looked to the man in disbelief. ‘Eamon are you saying you want me to-’

‘-marry Ophelia Trevelyan. Yes.’ confirmed Eamon ‘Think of it? Ferelden loyalties will not be torn. With Ophelia as your Queen, the people will see the Inquisition and the kingdom of Ferelden as merged. One and the same. And as a result, we will gain more power from it. Look at all the connections and support they have? Your throne will be significantly stronger in marrying the Inquisitor than by any marriage to a noble house in Ferelden. And Ophelia comes from the house of Trevelyan in the Free Marches, so there is a noble tie there also. The custom of noble birth will be respected, and you will have a Queen at your side that is more powerful and popular than any noble’s daughter.’

The king looked absolutely unswayed from his original protest. ‘Ophelia does not love me and I do not love her.’. Alistair waved his hand at Eamon’s stern glare. ‘Fine, fine, yes I remember. Love has nothing to do with it. A fine concept for a king perhaps, but Ophelia is not royalty. She owes no allegiance to Ferelden. Maker help me I cannot even believe I am even discussing this with you. It is completely balmy. May I add, she and Michel de Chevin are involved? How were you planning to overcome that little problem? Push the chevalier off his horse and steal Ophelia before he can climb back on and come after us all with his shiny blade?’

Eamon shook his head in disagreement. ‘Your guards advise me the Inquisitor was seen entertaining another’s company. She was seen leaving your inauguration ball late in the night, alone with someone you’d refer to as your nemesis.’

Alistair appeared genuinely surprised. ‘So she is with Cullen Rutherford again?’

‘The very one.’ confirmed Eamon ‘Not that I am encouraging a marriage for spiteful reasons, but here is your chance at revenge. You speak of it often enough. How about having revenge without bloodshed? In fact, this is a far better way than death. It is a morbid existence for a man to see his life being played out by another man. To see his love being loved by another, even worse. Take Cullen’s love as your own and -‘

‘-it will crush his heart as he has done to mine.’ whispered Alistair. The king frowned, shaking his head. ‘Although I like the notion, and I do….but I am not that man.’

‘Do you want to avenge Sierra’s death or not?’ asked Eamon sharply ‘Cullen ran a blade through Sierra in cold blood. Do I have to remind you of the barbaric nature of how your loved one died? A long sword in the stomach is a long and painful death Alistair, Sierra would have been in agony for hours or ev-’

‘Enough!’ shouted Alistair. Dragging his hands through his brown hair, his eyes fell to the ground. ‘Enough, I beg you.’

‘I do not say these things to pain you.’. Eamon shook his head. ‘No, I say it to aid you on a decision that must be made. You need a queen and a child. And here is an opportunity to secure a powerful matrimony and to hurt your enemy. Does it get any better than that? A man’s heart is all he has at the end of the day, as you well know. Take it away from Cullen.’

Alistair remained quiet, reflecting on the advice by his regent and friend. ‘It would hurt him,’ murmured Alistair ‘yet Ophelia is innocent here. Should I ruin one life to seek revenge on another?’

‘You think too little of yourself if you believe offering a woman a chance to be the Queen of Ferelden is ruining their life.’ chuckled Eamon ‘It is an honour and a privilege. And you have a big heart Alistair. Ophelia would be married to a good man, rather than the devil she faces now. You would be saving her from a man that can murder in cold blood.’

Alistair nodded, as if he agreed. However still he looked unconvinced at what needed to be done. ‘It would never work. There is that one tiny problem of convincing Ophelia to leave Cullen and marry me. Somehow I don’t think me dropping it casually into a conversation is going to work.’

Eamon looked prepared for the question, a sharp glint in his eyes. ‘It is simple really. Threaten to withdraw Ferelden support from the Inquisition. Every soldier, every resource, and every piece of land they hold.’

Alistair eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘There would be no Skyhold.’

‘There would be no Inquisition.’ acknowledged the regent ‘At least three quarters of the Inquisition is made up of your men and women. Do you think the Inquisition stands a chance at defeating Corypheus if three quarters of their army withdraws?’

‘No, I suppose not,’ answered Alistair ‘but how would that look? If I was seen as the reason the Inquisition fell apart? The people of Ferelden would soon lose faith in their king I can guarantee that much.’

Eamon scoffed. ‘It would never come to that. The Inquisition will not risk falling apart. Indeed any Inquisitor in Ophelia’s position would not allow that to happen. Not if they could maintain a more stable agreement through one simple marriage.

Alistair looked sceptical.

‘Alistair, this is how kingdoms make allegiances.’ explained Eamon fervently ‘Through marriage. And the Inquisition is a growing kingdom in itself. You must do this to secure yours lands and your people’s allegiance, for who knows what the future may bring with the Inquisition? They have a taste of power and perhaps Ophelia and Cullen will be unwilling to give that up in later years?’

Alistair nodded. ‘In that respect I tend to agree. However the proposal will be met with hostility by the Inquisition, and the ultimatum with outright hatred.’

‘Change at first is never easy, but they will come to see it is the only way.’ reassured the regent.

‘At the moment a marriage to a Ferelden noble’s daughter seems a promising thought in comparison.’ scoffed the king ‘Can we go back to that? Any girl of your choosing Eamon, I won’t complain.’

Eamon chuckled. ‘The easy path is not always the right one. Have faith Alistair, this is the right way. Ophelia Trevelyan is the queen that will secure your lands and ensure the Inquisition will never continue on as an independent thorn in your side in years to come. You know in your heart this will be a hard step to take, but it is the right one in the right direction. Let your people celebrate their two favourite leaders, side by side, together on the throne as the King and Queen of Ferelden.’

Lifting a tired hand to his head, Alistair cursed under his breath. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever say this but I miss life in the Western Approach.’

‘Your Majesty, dinner is served in the royal quarters.’ announced an attendant, walking jovially into the study. He jumped, not knowing the king had company. ‘I-I am s-s-so sorry my king, I did not know-’

Alistair raised a hand in peace. ‘It’s fine, completely fine. Come Eamon, I have a feeling I’m going to need to drown my sorrows tonight.’

‘Ale or wine?’ chuckled the regent.

‘No cheese.’ replied Alistair, heading out the door ‘Copious amounts of cheese is the only thing that is going to pull me through all of this.’

****

_We were kings throughout the night,_

_yet we awoke as beggars….._

After a large brunch on the terrace at Monte-Gaudin Manor, the Inquisition party bid a fond farewell as they departed for Skyhold. Again the trip was extremely quiet and remained so throughout the day. Day turned into night once more, and the group were called to cease riding along the Imperial Highway and retire for the night at The Foaming Flagon Inn.

Leliana and her chantry escorts were disinterested in mingling with the rest, and they eagerly retired their rooms, yet the remaining three lingered in the taproom eager to sit a while before wandering off to bed.

‘Shall I purchase alcohol for the men?’ inquired Morrigan cynically, looking over at the hung over mage and chevalier. It was late in the evening and still they looked as if they had been entertaining a barrel of ale.

‘Not for me.’ muttered Jowan, slumping onto a wooden at a table by the window.

Michel joined him on the other side, leaning heavily against the wood. ‘Nor I.’ answered the chevalier ‘I think I shall absolve from drinking wine in the future.’

Jowan nodded. ‘Me too.’

Morrigan held an amused smile, seating herself beside Jowan. ‘The night was an entertaining one, I take it? ‘Tis a shame I was not there to see it.’

‘It was one of the strangest nights of my life.’ proclaimed Michel, running a tired hand across his blonde unshaven jaw. He shook his head, as if still he felt off-key.

Jowan nodded. ‘I wholeheartedly agree.’

Michel grinned, turning to the mage. ‘Tell me I wasn’t the only one smitten with Leliana? I fell asleep with images of her on my mind and I woke up trying to shake the memory. I blamed the wine, but I am certain you were singing her praise also?’. Michel shook his head in disbelief ‘Leliana. Of all people. What were we thinking?’

Running her finger along the wood grain, the witch tilted her head curiously at the men. ‘She by no means has admirable features. Perhaps the wine enhanced those qualities?’

Michel laughed at the comment. ‘Leliana has caused me more grief than any amount of wine can resolve. In fact to put it in the most polite way, I find the woman utterly reprehensible. She smirks and schemes and cares for no one apart from herself and Cullen. There is a coldness within her and a lack of inner beauty, and that is what I respect most of all from a person.’

Morrigan rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘There is no one here to woo with your sappy words so why bother declaring such false beliefs? Just admit that you are a visual creature, as are most of your sex are, and stop playing the victim. Poor chevalier, you have issues with the Spymaster but found her appealing last night. What a trouble that must be for you.’

Michel rolled his eyes, casting his attention to the window where it was heavily raining. A sheet of grey was bucketing down and he was more interested in that than the witch before him.

‘You are awfully quiet, Jowan.’ observed Morrigan ‘Is anything the matter?’

Indeed Jowan was looking down at the table and refusing to make eye contact with either of his companions.

Michel turned to look at the mage, a small albeit taunting smile on his lips. ‘I left you and Leliana together last night. Pray what happened?’

‘Oh nothing much.’ Jowan mumbled ‘A few too many wines and then off to bed.’

The chevalier ran a playful hand through his hair, looking at the mage with great interest. ‘That is a lie.’ he observed plainly.

Jowan shifted in his seat, looking irritated. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You are lying.’ informed Michel pleasantly, a growing smile forming on his face. ‘I know a lie well.’

‘There’s a surprise.’ observed Morrigan cynically.

The chevalier kept his attention on Jowan. ‘What happened after I left the room?’

Morrigan stretched her arms wide, appearing disinterested. ‘Does it matter what happened? Who cares? And what concern is it of yours? Jowan does not serve to titillate knights with stories perhaps best kept to himself.’

Michel’s blue eyes sparkled with delight, growing more convinced something had happened. ‘No concern of mine naturally, but I am curious nevertheless. If I had to guess I would say Jowan and Leliana did more than just talk?’

Morrigan scoffed in disgust while Jowan remained deathly quiet, looking extremely uneasy. His pale face was deathly white and he appeared rather peaky.

‘You see, he wishes not to speak of it.’ defended Morrigan swiftly ‘Be gone. You are more pesky than a swamp mosquito at dusk.’

Jowan looked up at his companions, now appearing as if he did wish to speak about the previous night. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’ he confessed dismally ‘I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around it all day and I cannot understand why things happened the way they did? Why I decided to…’

‘…sleep with Leliana?’ whispered Michel with raised brows ‘You did, didn’t you? Goodness I can only imagine that would be a shock to the system. Look at you, you look traumatised. Was it that bad? I can see your predicament, she is not someone any man should be involved with.’

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed in on the chevalier. ‘And why is that? Does she not fit into your gilded Orlesian notion of a proper woman? Or do you find yourself to be better than most, chevalier? Might I remind you the chicken that crows the loudest does not always give the biggest eggs?’

The Orlesian sighed heavily, turning back to Jowan. ‘Take my advice, put your regrets aside and see it for what it was. Too much wine and a little lack of judgement. It was only one night, we have all been there.’

Morrigan remained silent, her lips suitably pursed in disapproval.

The mage nodded half-heartedly, standing up from the table. ‘Perhaps you are right. I’m sorry, you both will have to excuse me. I’m not in the mood for company at the moment.’

Edging his way to the tavern stairs, Jowan left Michel and Morrigan alone. The pair remained quiet, glaring coldly at each other from opposite ends of the table, silently willing the other to leave so they could finally have a moment of peace.


	80. A Winter Kiss

A soft brown deer pelt lay upon the fresh snow in an open area at the side of the mountain. It was a beautiful anomaly, a flat clearing of ice where the trees and rocks did not sprout. Solas claimed there was a lake beneath, but even in the mid of summer the ice never melted. Only was there ever a bluish-white carpet of ice. The residents of the ranges called it Andraste’s Lament, and for whatever reason they held the firm belief that Andraste herself had come to this spot to mourn the death of her half-sister, Halliserre. It was said that she wept tears on the snow and the mountainside was forever changed by her grief, remaining a blank canvas of her sorrow for an eternity.

Why such folk tales seemed to relish in misery rather than happiness I never knew?

Upon the pelt blowing chilled finger tips, I tried to conceal the smile on my face. Occasionally I would catch the eye of Cullen, only to quickly look away with a grin. Surreal would have been an apt word to describe being whisked away to this romantic spot by the Commander of the Inquisition. Surreal and very, very strange.

‘Something amusing you?’ asked Cullen, easing himself down beside me. His fingers brushed lightly across the pelt, enjoying the sensation of the soft fur on his skin.

The day had begun perfectly simple. I awoke with a templar in my bed, which was always a good start, and we slept the late hours of the morning away. This was a novelty in itself for the soldier in Cullen always ensured he was at his study just after daybreak, armoured and ready for the day. Yet with Leliana and Michel away, we both felt a little more at ease, and breaking routines and habits seemed easier done than in days prior. Cullen decided to leave the work of the day to his many lieutenants and casually suggested we should spend the day together. Happily, I agreed.

With a pelt under his arm and a confident stride, the Commander decided we should go out and explore the surrounding terrain of Skyhold. The ice had begun to melt a little, now we were in late winter, and under the bright southern sun the Frostback ranges appeared to almost sparkle from the reflection of ice and fire. Happily we nestled ourselves at a secluded place away from the keep and enjoyed a moment of peace.

‘Well?’ observed Cullen, drawing his arm around me affectionately ‘What’s so funny Inquisitor?’

‘Oh nothing,’ I dismissed, wrapping my hands around his waist ‘it’s just you of all people taking a break. Away from Skyhold and your papers and trebuchets and barking orders. Never thought I’d see the day.’

Cullen laughed. ‘Maker help me, am I that much fun?’

I grinned. ‘You took me to this romantic spot. You want something, don’t you?’

‘You know what I want?’ replied Cullen wickedly.

‘I thought as much.’ I chuckled ‘Is that the price for a romantic picnic these days?’

The templar laughed, casting his eyes across the ice. ‘Come now. We’re sitting on a dead animal skin in the snow, and without any food might I add. I hardly think I’m going to win any awards for the most romantic man in Thedas.’ The templar ran a hand to his neck. ‘It is nice here, I’ll admit that. There’s a feeling of tranquillity that one does not get in Skyhold, but often I’ll look out my window to this place and get a glimpse of it. Sometimes that is all I need to get me through the day. Perhaps that is all we ever need, a glimpse of what may be?’

Turning his head, Cullen smiled at me. He looked completely content.

‘There is a lot of promise in days ahead.’ he observed ‘We have the location of Corypheus in the Arbour Wilds now, and soon our forces will take him down once and for all. Finally the Inquisition begins to see the fruits of their labours.’

‘Do you really think we have a chance at defeating him?’ I asked a little uncertainly ‘After all we have done there always seems something more to do.’

‘Do not discount all that you have done.’ reassured the Commander, squeezing my hand. ‘You have managed to seal all the rifts, source crafting materials, and found supporters from all over Thedas. Might I add you’ve also managed to resolve some of the most ludicrous village problems that I’ve ever heard. All in the name of the Inquisition. Many of the red templars have now broken away from Corypheus. Indeed his allies are beginning to diminish. His hold is weakening and ours has never been stronger. It will not be long now before it will finally be over.’. Cullen squeezed my hand again. ‘Ophelia I do not know for certain what lies ahead but for the first time ever I can say I am hopeful. Hopeful of finally ridding Corypheus from the realm once and for all. Hopeful for what lies ahead of that.’

Deeply the Commander breathed in the fresh air into his lungs and exhaled calmly. Lifting his hand to his belt he began to pull something out of his leather pocket. Curiously it remained concealed in his fist as Cullen moved to kneel before me. A fully armoured Commander of the Inquisition on one knee, humble and gracious as he lowered his head in a respectful bow. His fist lifted to his chest, resting across his heart as he raised his head once more to look at me. Cullen’s amber eyes were bright, and the early afternoon sun shone behind his sandy hair. A smile grew on his face and the white scar on the right side of his lips elongated in contrast to the rugged stubble surrounding. Gently he reached for my hand and looked into my eyes with a warm smile.

‘_Marry me_?’ he asked softly, opening his hand to reveal a plain gold ring. ‘Ophelia, I love you. You know I always have and I always will. As the Maker is my witness I pledge to honour and love you always, and take care of you as if you were my second self. I am not of noble birth...’. Cullen smiled as he saw the grin on my face ‘…I know, I know, as if it ever mattered to you? What I am trying to say is, all I am is a Ferelden man of modest means. I have no land or wealth, indeed I have little else to offer you except my heart and my sword.’. The templar’s amber eyes looked to the gold band. ‘The merchant stall at Skyhold had nothing but old rings of metal, but I could not wait to venture into Ferelden to find a better on. Truth be told, I could not wait another moment. Life is short and I will not let the moment pass me by. Ophelia I love you. Will you marry me?’

Completely shocked, all I could do was stare at the man in surprise. 

Cullen chuckled, tilting his head playfully with a sweet smile on his lips as he waited for an answer. Nothing could wipe the smile off his face as he knelt before me. It was a smile that made you want to smile in turn.

With butterflies overwhelming my insides and a giddy feeling filling my head, I tried to make sense of what was happening. Cullen was proposing marriage. As elated as I was, and I truly was, a small voice in my head asked why? Why me? It was an irritating voice that sounded suspiciously like a combination of my guild master, several templars at the Ostwick circle, and my mother and father, all who enjoyed to stamp on my sense of worth throughout the day. Silently I willed the voice away.

‘_Yes. Cullen, of course I will marry you_!’ I replied enthusiastically ‘Do you need ask?’

The templar lifted his smiling eyes to the sky, shaking his head. ‘Well that is generally the done thing. I suppose I could have forced you to the altar at the tip of blade?’

Elbowing the man in the ribs, I grinned. ‘Well you needn’t do that, my answer is yes. Yes, Cullen Stanton Rutherford, I will marry you.’

‘Good,’ he grinned ‘I am glad to hear it.’

Cullen reached for my hand and eased the ring on my finger. A band of soft yellow gold, plain and simple with several scratches. Yet it was flawless in my eyes for it came from the one that I loved, bought with an intention that far outweighed beauty or wealth.

‘I shall buy you a proper one soon.’ promised Cullen, rubbing his thumb on the tarnished metal ‘Something worthy of our union.’

‘Then it will be rejected, for this one shall never leave my finger as long as I live.’ I proclaimed, drawing my lips to the man’s cheek. ‘It is perfect, Cullen. You are perfect. Thank you. Thank you for making me the happiest person in Thedas.’

‘That makes the two of us.’ he declared. The templar embraced me in his arms, holding me against his chest. ‘Maker knows what I have done to deserve someone like you, Ophelia. I love you so much.’ he murmured, nestling his head into my neck.

‘I love you too, Cullen. Knowing what it feels to be without you I never want to feel that again. We may not see eye to eye on some things-’

‘Most things.’ corrected an amused Cullen.

‘Yes, well most things. That is life I suppose?’ I observed poignantly ‘You’re a templar, I’m a mage. It was always going to be…trying at times.’

The templar shook his head, looking rather amused. ‘Never in a million years would I have thought I would fall in love with a mage let alone marry one, but I am glad that I am. Is it wrong that I am happy that you were thrown into my path despite the terrible situation that put you there? Life is a rich tapestry of chance. We have a few rare moments where we can choose the path we take, and others where we have no choice but to follow. We may not get to choose where our future takes us Ophelia, but let us journey this one together.’

Cullen lifted my hand to his lips, softly pressing his mouth to my skin. His lips were soft and the sensation stirred me each and every time. 

‘Pinch me, I can hardly believe it.’ I grinned.

‘Well I’m happy to oblige?’ he smiled, moving threatening fingers playfully to my thigh ‘I am fond of a good pinch.’

‘No I believe it, I believe.’ I laughed, running my hands to his cheek and playfully pinching it.

Cullen laughed, moving away from hands that tickled his skin. ‘I don’t see why I’m being punished here. I already believe it!’

Unable to stop grinning, I bit my lip in an attempt to stop looking completely delirious. ‘So how does this work? Do you want a big wedding with your family and friends?’

‘Andraste preserve me.’ groaned the templar, rolling his eyes ‘I want to marry you, not be tortured by annoying blood kin I haven’t seen in years.’ He shook his head with a smile. ‘All I want is you. I don’t care about the when, where or how. As long as we’re together, nothing else matters.’

Knowing my family were never going to grace my presence every again, I was determined to start afresh with Cullen’s. ‘Yes but you have family so shouldn’t we include them. Now they are my family also?’

The Commander stretched his arms leisurely. ‘Yes I suppose I should see them at some point. I saw Mia in South Reach a few months back, however Branson and Rosalie are another story. I would like them all to meet you, but it matters little to me when that happens.’. The man ran a finger across the gold ring on my hand. ‘This is a promise that we will wed. Whenever you wish it to be, however you wish.’. The templar chuckled, his eyes looking me up and down. ‘You haven’t stopped smiling.’

‘You’re right!’ I replied, grabbing my cheeks ‘I’m thinking about living the rest of my life with you by my side. I don’t think I can stop smiling.’

‘Well in that case,’ smiled Cullen, leaning forward to kiss me once more ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to stop either.’


	81. Unwelcomed News

The sun shone bright overhead as Leliana, Morrigan, Michel, Jowan and the Chantry escort arrived back at Skyhold. The witch of the wilds was swift to dismount and scurry away into the keep, eager to see her son Kieran. Whilst Michel eagerly chatted away to several soldiers in the courtyard, Leliana directed orders to her staff, and Jowan lingered by his black horse at the stables.

‘Her shoe is loose.’ frowned Master Dennet, running his hand along the mare’s leg ‘When did it happen?’

In truth the mage had been distracted the entire journey back and had not noticed. Jowan shook his head apologetically and threw the horse a shamed look, feeling guilty at his negligence.

Dennet snorted like one of the horses, appearing quite vexed. ‘You mages have no respect for the animals.’ he lectured crossly ‘Every soldier that takes out a horse knows it’s their responsibility to look after the animal properly. You mages however? None of you grew up around them and you don’t know the first bloody thing about keeping one.’

‘Yes well it was a little hard to keep a horse when imprisoned in a stone tower, Master Dennet.’ retorted Jowan irritably, pulling his pack off the horse. ‘Her shoe was on when we entered the Emerald Greaves so it must have happened some time after that, when we ascended the mountain. I apologise for not knowing the precise moment it occurred, but seeing as there were no shoe fitters in the area there would have been little I could have done.’

Dennet cursed the mage under his breath as he led the horse away, and Jowan turned angrily. He had hoped that his return to Skyhold would elevate his spirits and so far that had not happened. Suddenly the mage’s eye caught a flash of green from afar, and he held his hand up to gain the attention of the woman that had been avoiding him for days.

‘We need to talk.’ informed Jowan curtly as he approached the Spymaster. Swinging his satchel over his shoulder, he stood determinedly before her. ‘Leliana please, we need to talk.’

Leliana’s eyes skimmed across the keep, as if her mind was mustering any excuse as to why she couldn’t talk. Noticing Jowan’s agitation she sighed, turning towards to the courtyard.

‘Of course we do, let us discuss this in my study.’ she muttered.

Hastily they pressed on, the Divine and her Left Hand side by side. Amicable nods and pleasant smiles were exchanged by several residents as they walked on, seemingly none the wiser to the tension between the two. Yet it was there, politely concealed with tight jaws and furrowed brows.

Jowan cast his eyes to the stone, desperately trying to gather his thoughts. He had wanted to practice in his head what he would say but even as the long hours of travel went by he was unable to find the right words. It was such an uncomfortable topic to bring up, and one he was not well experienced in. Digging his nails into the sleeves of his robe, he unleashed his agitation on the garment, and by the time he entered the study he was in desperate need of a seamstress.

Jowan looked troubled as the door closed and the pair were finally in private. ‘We must talk about what happened the other night in Lydes.’

‘I know we must.’ sighed the spymaster, sitting on the edge of her desk. She appeared concerned as she bit her full bottom lip. ‘There was no easy way to tell you what I’ve done, so for a few days there I decided to not say a word. I’ve been avoiding you and it was so foolish to do so.’

Jowan wracked his brain, trying to understand what Leliana was talking about. ‘Done?’ inquired the mage, appearing none the wiser ‘What have you done? Leliana why would you be avoiding me?’

Leliana drummed her fingers on the wood, unwilling to say what was on her mind. ‘I’m so sorry Jowan,’ she blurted out ‘I need to tell you that I lied to you. I lied to you and I did it because I was trying to move on from Cullen in the worse possible way. I am so ashamed of myself, you will think me a terrible person I am certain.’

A gulp in his throat, Jowan flattened his tattered sleeves. He detested bad news and it was most certainly coming his way. ‘You can tell me anything at all, that goes without saying?’

The Spymaster nodded, straightening a little as she looked to the mage seriously. ‘I lied about telling you that I had lost Cullen’s child. Now please don’t look at me like that, I had my reasons. Cullen is in love with Ophelia and they are together again. There was no place for me and our unborn child in his life, and Cullen told me as much that he wanted the child not to be born.’. The woman bit her lip, looking emotional. ‘When I told you that I had miscarried, I was planning to abort the child myself. That very night in fact. In my mind it had already happened, perhaps that was the way I saw it when I told you I had miscarried?’. Leliana looked desperately at Jowan. ‘Don’t you see? Cullen abandoned me. I thought there was no other way than rid myself of the child. However in the end I could not go through with it. I am still pregnant with Cullen’s baby.’

Jowan looked utterly gobsmacked. His fingers resumed to pick away at his sleeves with an even greater eagerness. ‘You're….you're pregnant with Cullen’s baby? Then why in the world did you sleep with me in Orlais?’ asked Jowan quietly ‘You are pregnant. Who does that?’

‘Yes I am pregnant, but I am also only human.’ confessed Leliana. She cast her green eyes down in shame. ‘Jowan I’ve liked you for a long time now, surely you must have known that? I knew it was wrong but I wanted to make love to you before I lost the chance altogether. We were having so much fun that night, weren’t we? The glorious wine and food, and everything just felt so right. All the troubles that lay before me were forgotten in the moment and I just wanted one night of freedom.’. She looked down at her stomach and placed a hand on it gently. ‘You must think me quite the fallen woman, no?’

‘No they are not my thoughts at all.’ sighed Jowan. He looked uneasy, his eyes drawing down to her belly. ‘Coming from a selfish perspective, I feel a little uncomfortable knowing I bedded a woman with child. At a risk at sounding like Michel de Chevin, I feel as if I have acted with dishonour.’

Leliana held her hands up quickly, stopping the mage from talking. ‘Jowan you weren’t to know! There is no dishonour even if you did, for were we not two consenting parties? No, you must not think like that. And you must know I’m not asking you to be involved with me or with this pregnancy. It is Cullen’s child and his responsibility. Although he wishes to be with Ophelia, he and I will raise our child together. I have reached this decision. And as for you and I? Do not feel uncomfortable for giving me one night of happiness. Let us remember it as a night of fun and leave it at that. My affection for you I will hold fondly, but it must not go further. I have a baby that I must put my attention towards. Please say you understand?’

Running a confused hand through his hair, Jowan shrugged. ‘Of course. I mean, sorry if I sound a little surprised…naturally I understand.’

‘Surely you see it is best this way?’ smiled Leliana ‘You and I will always remain good friends. And best not to mention this to Cullen, I suppose that goes without saying.’

Jowan threw a half smile. He had no idea what he’d expected to accomplish by talking to Leliana about their love making session. Clarity perhaps? Had he wanted something more from it? The answer was no. In fact he had been trying to understand why he had slept with her in the first place. Perhaps Leliana could claim an affection for him but Jowan could not reciprocate in the slightest. And yet here she was telling him she wanted nothing more to do with him. It seemed so effortless and he for one was thankful. The only problem was Jowan still remained uneasy, now more than ever…..

The mage nodded, brushing his sleeves crisply.

‘I completely agree Leliana. And you are correct, we shall always be friends. If you ever need an ear to chew, I am here.’

Leliana smirked. ‘I never was the cannibalistic type, but thank you.’

Jowan chuckled, making his way to open the door. ‘Well in that case I suppose I should settle back in and ensure the mages haven’t found my hidden supply of cinnamon bullseyes.’

Grinning, Jowan wrenched open the door and came face to face with the stern Commander, patiently waiting to enter the study.

‘Jowan.’ acknowledged Cullen with a friendly nod ‘It is good to see you again.’

The Commander had been significantly more amicable to the mage since he had saved his life at the Kinloch Hold. There was not a whisper of blood magic or name calling of any kind. No foul looks were cast, and no reference of Jowan’s darker days were mentioned. Not that they were friends by any measure, but Cullen intentionally went out if his way to make the mage feel more than welcomed whenever their paths crossed.

‘How was Lapin?’ inquired Cullen.

‘Lydes.’ corrected Jowan.

Cullen shrugged with a smirk. ‘Lapin, Lydes, Verchiel, Halamshiral, Val Foret. One and same in my eyes, and full of annoying little Orlesians.’

Jowan laughed. ‘That is a rather apt description of the place.’

‘Excuse me!’ protested Leliana, hands on her hips as she approached the men at the door.

‘Leliana you can try all you want to be Orlesian but we both know you’re Ferelden born, accent or not.’ taunted Cullen ‘How does the saying go? You can take the woman out of Ferelden, but you cannot take the Ferelden out of the woman.’

Leliana scoffed. ‘Says the Ferelden man. Some of us have class, Cullen. Some of us traded in our red soil covered boots for fine glass slippers.’

‘Yes and some of us try too hard to be something we are not.’ quipped the Commander.’

‘Well I have no glass slippers so that counts me out.’ chuckled Jowan, passing the Commander ‘You must both excuse me, I have matters to attend to.’

Cullen clicked his fingers at the mage. ‘Later I need to speak to you. It’s not urgent but I think you’ll find it of interest.’

With a curious expression, Jowan nodded silently and departed.

‘Anything I should know of?’ asked Leliana, stepping aside as Cullen entered the room.

‘Is there anything you don’t know of?’ asked the Commander, looking at the woman in amusement. ‘Aren’t you the keeper of all secrets?’

‘So it’s a secret then, is it?’ grinned Leliana.

Cullen threw a hand at her. ‘It’s nothing. So how was Ser Hob-Nob and Lady Laurent?’

‘Tediously exuberant and faithful to the cause. We have their support.’. Leliana drew up to her seat and sat in it tiredly. ‘Between you and me I’m officially over riding. Next time I’m taking the carriage.’

Cullen pulled up a seat on the opposite side of the table and settled into it. ‘You should consider changing your lifestyle a bit. Now that it’s not just you waltzing about the countryside on missions. I realise it’s not your strong point but you need to take it easy.’

‘Is that your way of showing concern?’ mused Leliana ‘Has the title of father settled in now?’

The Commander picked up a paperweight and juggled it in his hand. ‘A little perhaps. How’s it all going anyway? Have you been feeling sick? I remember Mia mentioned she was sick all the time with Myrddin. Morning until night, and the nausea would not subside until the very moment she gave birth. Madness.’

‘Not so much have I felt anything yet, it is still early days.’ answered Leliana ‘Although I’ve been craving meat. Ram, venison, rabbit. Whatever I can get my hands on. It’s absolutely vulgar!’

The templar chuckled. ‘Sounds like a boy. Well if I can help in any way you need only ask, you know that? Even if it means going hunting in the forest for some game.’

‘I could do with some of your famous massages, my back is aching.’ remarked Leliana, reaching for a sore spot on her spine ‘Do you want to have dinner tonight? I can entertain you with all the gossip from Orlais, I know how much you delight in it.’

The Commander ran his hand through his hair with a frown. ‘Leliana there is something I need to tell you.’ he informed swiftly, his cheerful demeanour subsiding ‘I wanted you to hear it from me instead of some second hand gossip. I have proposed marriage to Ophelia and she has said yes.’

Her green eyes flashed into the templar's. A silent anger radiated from the woman as she unsuccessfully attempted to remain calm, presenting a half smile with pursed lips. ‘Is that so? Marriage. And after you only got back together with her?’

Cullen nodded. ‘Now feels like the right time. We won’t be at Skyhold forever and-’

‘And what?!’ snapped Leliana ‘You want to run off with Ophelia? Abandon me and the baby? Your position as Right Hand? Your position as Knight-Commander? Where does reality fit into your little fantasy, Cullen?’. Her green eyes furiously pulled away from him, unable to look at the man. ‘Oh yes it is perfect timing, when you are about to have a child to another woman. Perfect, just perfect.’

Placing down the paper weight, it hit the desk with a firm thud. Cullen was not impressed and not in the mood to argue with the woman before him. ‘Maker stop! We are not together, and I never said otherwise. You know this is not an act to punish you. Desiring to be wed to Ophelia does not mean I throw away my duties as a father or to the Chantry, that is completely ludicrous!’

‘Well you are punishing me, and our child.’ observed Leliana, placing an emotive hand over her stomach. ‘You’ve decided to bring a child into this world without the love of a mother and father being together. Something that you did not have to experience as a child, but now you are determined to provide a broken home for your own flesh and blood.’

‘Enough.’ ordered Cullen, running a hand to his temples. ‘If I didn’t have a headache before, I do now. Listen to me. I intend to love this child as its father. There is no greater love I intend to bestow. And you must know I will always love you as the mother of my child, however I am not in love with you. Did I decide to bring in a child into this world? You know that was not my intention. This child was an accident and we must find a way to make this work for all parties involved.’

The Spymaster scowled. ‘Spoken like an insincere member of the council. This is not a negotiation Cullen, this is your child. You would do well to think on that before you do anything reckless, such as marrying Ophelia. Remember I hold your offspring in me, and I am in control of what happens to it.’

The Commander’s frame seemed to grow taller as he glared angrily at Leliana. ‘Is that some sort of threat? You would use this child’s wellbeing as a bargaining chip?’

‘No it’s simply a reminder that you would do well to remember.’ snapped Leliana, pointed a furious finger to the door ‘Now I have work to do, so kindly leave.’

****

Wedged in against the wall and an old splintery table at the back corner of The Herald’s Rest, I calculated my chances of escaping. Sera had ushered me to the spot in order to discuss an urgent matter. One moment I had been innocently walking across the courtyard, and before I knew it the rogue had jumped across my path and insisted I follow her. The next thing I knew I was in the tavern, examining linen. Sprawled across the tavern table before us was a bed sheet, off white and stained. There were red lines and arrows pointing in all directions, and a lumpy outline of the island of Estwatch off the coast of the Free Marches.

‘So we come in from here, here and here,’ explained Sera ‘and here, oh and over there too. Actually forget that, let’s just come from every angle possible. Swoop in like seagulls, yeah? Wack, wack, wack. You know, surround them like a flock of birds. Or should that be sharks? Shark and birds, hahaha even better! Go for big. Know what I mean?’

Shaking my head, I really didn’t. ‘Let’s take this back a step. First of all, what am I actually looking at here?’

Sera chuckled. ‘It’s a map, ding-dong. Of the where the treasure is. You like treasure, yeah?’ 

‘So it’s a treasure map….written on a bed sheet?’ I observed dubiously.

‘Duh! Herald of Obviousness.’ mused the rogue ‘I got the map and you got the numbers. But together we have a plan. You got me? We’ll run in and grab the gold, divvy it up a little between you and me. For commission you know, wink wink nudge nudge. And the rest goes to the Inquisition. How easy is that?!’

Feeling completely sceptical about her proposal, I knew even if there was great loot to be had it was a bad idea. With Sera, it was always a bad idea. ‘Yes but whose treasure is it? You don’t think we might be asking for trouble by stealing booty from a crew of bloodthirsty pirates? Being the Inquisition doesn’t give us the immediate right to take what we want.’

‘Pfft you’re the Inquisitor, yeah? You got perks so why not use them? That’s why leaders ponce around and do whatever they bloody well want.’. Grabbing a flagon of ale, Sera downed it in several gulps before belching loudly. ‘Do you know what I had to do to get the location of this map?’

‘Considering it’s on a bed sheet, do I really want to know?’ I observed dryly, throwing my companion a cynical look.

A loud ruckus at the bar distracted our discussion, and Sera and I turned our heads towards the action. There was shouting and empty ale jugs being thrown by the bartender Cabot. He was hurling whatever he could find over the bar towards someone on the other side, and several patrons darted out of the line of fire just in the nick of time.

‘Get outta here you gillie-wet-foot!’ Cabot yelled, grabbing another pitcher and hurling it with a firm hand ‘The nerve of ye to come in here after you’ve stolen half my customers! Out! GET OUT!!!!’

Making our way to where the gathering crowd stood near the bar, I spied Varric. He held his hands up and dodged another jug as it sailed past his head. The rogue looked utterly fed up by the constant assault, and hastily grabbed a nearby flagon to aim back at the bartender. It sailed over the bar, smashing a bottle of spirits behind Cabot’s shoulder. The bar tender looked furious, brushing glass off his sleeve.

‘You’re paying for that you slimy gnashgab!!!!!’ he roared.

Varric threw the dwarf a disgusted look. ‘Yeah well I’ll take it off the amount you owe me. There’s seven barrels of ale missing from The Cock and Bull, Cabot. My men say you had something to do with it.’

Cabot spat at the dwarf. ‘Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Unless you’ve got cold iron proof you can sod off, you runty bar thief.’

‘Come on Cabot you old muck-spout, don’t be like that!’ reproached Varric ‘There’s no law in Skyhold saying there can’t be two taverns on the premises.’

Cabot looked furious, wiping the sweat from his brown beard. ‘No law, I’ll give you no law you nug humper!!!’. The dwarf threw a full bottle of wine at Varric, and he nimbly jumped out of the way. The bottle shattered and a curtain of red sprayed over the wall.

‘Andraste’s tits you’re gonna waste all your tipple.’ chuckled Varric, brushing his tunic casually ‘That’s not good for business, you know?’

‘I’ve been tending this bar since the first day we arrived in this cruddy ice bucket.’ yelled Cabot ‘If you think you can waltz in here and steal my customers and my recipe-’

Varric raised his hands defensively ‘Whoa whoa whoa, now wait a minute, I’ve done some pretty shady things in my life but stealing another man’s ale recipe? Sheesh what do you think of me!’

‘Trickster!’ roared Cabot, throwing another bottle at Varric. ‘It was an Antivan recipe, and there is no one on this side of Thedas that makes juice that way. But it so happens the ale is being served in your crud bucket of a hole. What do you have to say for yourself, you damn raggabrash?!’

‘Explain this.’ replied Varric impatiently, throwing him the finger.

Jumping over the bar, Cabot fell into a berserker rage. He grabbed Varric by the tunic and began punching him, his mouth frothing with spit as he yelled obscenities at the rogue. The crowd cheered, delighted to be entertained with a tavern fight involving two tavern owners.

Beside me Sera clapped in delight as we watched on.

‘Shouldn’t we do something?’ I frowned.

Sera cheered as Cabot landed another blow. ‘Hah that was a good one! You gotta have some fun Flashy Hands, enjoy the free entertainment.’

Varric was one punch from being knocked unconscious when a pair of strong arms intervened, wrenching Cabot off the rogue.

‘Enough!’ yelled Michel de Chevin, yanking the dwarf away.

At first Cabot struggled, raging at the chevalier who held him, but finally he settled as Michel placed a calming hand on his chest.

‘Cabot please my friend,’ appealed Michel ‘do not fire the fuel that is not worth lighting.’

Cabot hissed at Varric before making his way behind the bar. ‘Aye aye.’ he muttered. He threw a shifty glance to Varric, who was wiping the blood trickling from his nose. ‘Yer ales in the store room, Flint will show you to it.’

Varric waved a hand, shaking his head. ‘Nah, you’re good. Keep it. Think of it as a peace offering.’

Cabot remained stone faced at the offer. With a sharp nod, he started pouring ales again for the patrons at the bar. Maryden commenced playing her lute once more, and everyone recommenced drinking as if no fight had ever occurred.

‘Thanks Goldilocks.’ muttered Varric, readjusting his shirt so the v neck fell square onto his tuft of chest hair. ‘Guess I have to forgive you now for choosing to drink here and not The Cock and Bull.’

Michel patted the dwarf on the back. ‘Your establishment is the finest in Skyhold. That is not why I choose not to visit it anymore.’. The chevalier eyes brushed over me as I stood before the pair.

Spotting a half empty and abandoned ale at the closest table, Varric plonked himself down beside it. ‘Don’t tell me Curly is on another rampage or something? There is only so much I can write about that guy before having to name him in the title.’

Sera joined Varric and sat down at the table, taking a sip from the abandoned ale. ‘You look like nug balls, Storyteller.’

‘Always on the balls, Buttercup.’ mused Varric ‘Come on Sparrow, come sit a while with this old nug ball.’

Uncomfortably I sat down beside Varric, noticing Michel remained the only person standing. It was apparent he didn’t want to join us. In fact the knight refused to look at me, rather directing his full attention at the forlorn dwarf who continued to dab at his bleeding nose.

The dwarf nodded at the Orlesian. ‘So Curly’s keeping you away from my tavern eh? Well he better watch out, I’m gonna have a word with him.’

‘Hahahaha like you had a word with Cabot just then?’ laughed Sera ‘Tell me when you do that, yeah? I wanna see you turned into Varric tomato paste. Mash mash mash!’. The rogue playfully banged her fist on the table, pretending she was Cullen.

‘Cullen and I are back together again, and Michel does not desire to drink at the place Cullen owns a share in.’ I informed Varric quietly ‘I believe that is what Michel is referring to.’

Varric rubbed his jaw and nodded in understanding. ‘Heck come on Goldilocks, don’t leave us hanging. Have a seat.’ he remarked, nudging the empty seat with his foot. ‘So you and Sparrow didn’t hit it off in the end. It happens. Uncle Varric loves both you kids, you know that. Sit down and lemme buy you a drink.’

‘Plonk heals the heart.’ nodded Sera, jiggling the mug in her hand.

The Maister of Blades looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but sitting at that table, however the politeness ingrained in his character refused to reject an invitation. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he nodded pleasantly.

‘But of course.’ the chevalier smiled, taking the seat closest to Varric.

The rogue rolled a circle in the air with his finger, implying he was buying a round, and headed back to the bar, leaving Michel, Sera and I in awkward silence.

‘How was Orlais?’ I asked politely.

‘Pleasant.’ answered Michel curtly.

‘Did you eat slurpy snails?’ asked Sera, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

‘Ah no, I didn’t have the pleasure.’ answered Michel, looking a little perplexed at the question.

I attempted a weak smile at the chevalier. ‘Jowan was fretting about what to wear. Did he manage to make his mark on society?’

‘He was well enjoyed by the group, yes.’ observed the Chevalier. His blue eyes ran around the room, as if disinterested in my company altogether now. The knight stopped to look at some female soldiers in the corner, flashing a smile.

Rolling my eyes, I slumped my head in my palm and waited for Varric to return. Sera began to hum an annoying song, tapping the empty flagon with her finger. Was it possible to bolt to the door and escape now? Finally Varric came strolling back with four ales, banging them hard on the table.

‘Look at this pigswill Cabot’s serving.’ reproached Varric, peering into the mugs with a frown ‘No wonder he’s after our stuff.’

‘Did you steal his recipe?’ I asked sceptically.

The dwarf pretended to ram a dagger into his gut. ‘Sparrow you wound me. Wound me!!!’

‘You didn’t answer the question.’ I grinned, taking a sip. It was bitter, warm and had the distinct taste of turnip in it. ‘You’re right, this does taste awful.’. I wiped my mouth, hoping to remove the taste that was burning into my lips.

Extending his stumpy finger, the rogue pointed to my hand. ‘Wearing yourself a ring these days eh? What, Curly your husband now?’. Varric chuckled into his drink, gulping several times before looking up to notice my frozen face. ‘Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,’ he grinned ‘and it’s on your wedding finger. What are the chances?’

Michel’s eyes darted to the gold band, looking completely shocked. An awkward silence fell over the table, and once again I contemplated my chances of escaping if I up and bolted.

‘It looks grungy.’ remarked Sera casually, eyeing the ring with disinterest ‘Did Cully-Wully find it in gutter or something?’

Covering the band with my hand, I hid it under the table. ‘Now look it only happened yesterday. The proposal….’ I mumbled ‘….Cullen…’

Looking at Michel, I caught his eye. The chevalier looked utterly shattered as he beheld me.

‘Cullen proposed to you.’ observed Michel quietly. ‘And you said yes?’. There was hurt in his voice, and accusation.

Varric tapped the side of his mug uneasily, looking between me and Michel. ‘Ahhhh that’s great news Sparrow, really happy for you there. Isn’t that great Buttercup? Goldilocks?’

Cackling, Sera shook her head and continued drinking.

‘No Varric, it’s terrible news.’ replied Michel in irritation ‘I would not wish Cullen to marry my worst enemy, let alone Ophelia.’

The dwarf appeared amused at the comment, laughing into his mug as he drank away and watched us glare at each other.

‘I’m sorry you see it that way.’ I remarked.

Michel placed his hands firmly on the table and continued to stare at me. ‘Ophelia you must tell him no and return the ring. This is a terrible mistake. Cullen claims to love you but he doesn’t. We can all see that, can’t we Varric?’

The rogue raised his hands in the air. ‘Hey I’m just here for the good ale.’

Sera shrugged. ‘Come on Knighty-Knight, if Flashy Hands and Cully want to tie the knot then so what?’

‘I want you to be happy Ophelia.’ continued Michel, ignoring Sera’s rambling ‘You left me for Cullen, but I still care for you. Nothing you do can change that. But now to see you walking into a life with this sadist? Mon cherie it is life sentence. Remember our plans. Tell me, are they the same as yours with Cullen? If not then you know in your heart that you are making a mistake. You are a sweet angel, please you must not entertain this demon’s hold that he has over you.’

‘Ah Michel if you’re invited to the blessed union I’d be practicing your wedding speech a heck of a lot.’ chuckled Varric.

‘Nah it’s good,’ mused Sera ‘gotta give him points for saying it like it is. A bit vomity with the whole I love you but I want you to be happy. Still, no one’s perfect eh?’

Turning angrily to the chevalier I slammed my mug on the table, causing several patrons to turn around in surprise. ‘You make him out to be some monster which is completely untrue. I don’t expect you to like the guy, but come on! Selflessly he has helped create the Inquisition, trained all these men and women. Risked his life over and over again. Monsters don’t do that. Honestly Michel you should hear yourself. You’re angry and you have every right to be, but stop with the incessant slandering.’

‘I’ve known many good warriors that were terrible spouses. The two are not part and parcel.’ argued Michel sternly ‘Cullen is a great Commander. The greatest perhaps? However when it comes to his bed he takes whatever he wants, when he wants. He thinks about himself and no one else.’

‘It’s not your concern who he takes into his bed.’ I snapped.

‘Is it yours?’ pressed Michel ‘Or is that something you have no say over? What of your hopes to have a normal life with someone like that? What of a family, as you told me you desired to have? Cullen is the type of man that would leave you a barren crone before agreeing to such a thing. He will never be able to give you what you want.’

‘Well maybe not me, but it’s clear he can sire children.’ I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

Michel threw me another stunned looked, gobsmacked in his silence.

‘Shit.’ I panicked, realising what had just slipped out. ‘I’m talking nonsense, forget it.’

‘Bullshit!’ cackled Sera, shuffling her seat closer to me.

‘Double bullshit.’ piped in Varric, looking stunned. ‘Heck Sparrow, are you implying Cullen has a love child? Children?!! No way! What number are talking about? Are we in the double digits?’. He patted his tunic furiously. ‘Ahhh Fjolnord’s beard, I never have a quill at hand when I need one. Okay details Sparrow, spill it.’

‘Dammit.’ I cursed, looking fearfully at rogues staring at me with wide eyes. ‘This is not my news to share, it’s not my place.’

‘Should have thought about that before you blabbered.’ chimed in Sera ‘Blabber rules apply.’

Varric clicked his fingers at the rogue. ‘She has a point, they apply.’

Looking at the pair, I was beginning to question their sanity. ‘What are you both on about? Fine, fine but you didn’t hear it from me. I suppose you would have found out soon enough. Leliana is pregnant.’

Varric smacked his forehead, chuckling hysterically alongside Sera. Meanwhile Michel’s snow white complexion had faded into a grey shadow as he remained unresponsive.

‘Curly and Nightingale are having a kid?!!! I can’t tell you how messed up that is!!!!!’ chortled Varric ‘What hope does the kid have? It’ll be born with a smirk on it’s face and a dagger in it’s hand. Ahhhh bless it.’. Varric wiped an amused tear from his eye. ‘Not in a million years would I have believed that one. But Sparrow I gotta hand it to ya, you really know how to deliver news at the worst time possible.’

‘This is the best night ever.’ beamed Sera, clinking her flagon against Varric’s.

Startling from his catatonic state Michel slammed his hand on the table, looking enraged. ‘Is é mo díoltas go tapa agus mar sin tá mo blade. Ní bheidh sé agat, I swear é. Curse dó as a chur ar a claws isteach agat!!!’ he shouted furiously.

The tavern went silent. No one had ever heard the chevalier raise his voice, let alone yell in anger. Even Varric remained quiet, and that in itself was also very unnerving. Mouths agape and wide eyes, everyone watched on in surprise as Michel stood before our table furiously, his blonde hair scattered and his blue eyes seething.

Nudging the rogue beside him, Varric turned to Sera. ‘Buttercup, care to translate?’

‘Blah dee blah blee elfy-elf-elf.’ replied Sera, taking a sip of ale.

Varric widened his eyes, silently appealing for a translation.

Sera sighed. ‘Ugh fine let’s all go to the person with pointy ears to translate. I’m not good at this elf stuff, but I think he said something like; My revenge is swift and so is my blade. He will not have you, I swear it. Curse him for putting his claws into you.’

‘And I meant every word.’ added Michel adamantly ‘I made an oath to protect you, Ophelia. There is no way that I will stand by and see Cullen and Leliana destroy your life. By everything in my power I will make sure you never marry that man. I swear it Ophelia. Cullen will never have you as his wife.’

Varric turned to me. ‘Scrap the speech, you probably shouldn’t invite him to the wedding.’ he whispered.

Storming past us, Michel left the tavern in a whirlwind of fury. Varric, Sera and I watched on, still in shock at the sudden outburst.

‘What have I done?’ I murmured, my heart pounding in my chest.

‘You can’t blame him for feeling sorta angry.’ pointed out Varric ‘Kinda a double kick in the guts there.’

Draining my ale, the turnip taste was not a concern anymore. Anything to dull the horrible pang of sadness was now more than welcomed. There was always going to be a large part of me that loved the chevalier. One couldn’t simply switch off feelings for someone and I didn’t want to hurt Michel, or make him sad or angry. Yet I had and that made me feel worse than ever.

‘This is messed up, I never wanted this.’ I muttered dismally ‘Shit. Should I go after him? Would that help?’

‘Nah, the man needs some time alone I reckon.’ observed Varric ‘Give him a moment to get used to all this. He’ll come good Sparrow, don’t worry.’

‘Bloody oath he won’t, I’d say.’ observed Sera brightly, brushing her hands as she stood up. Nudging her head at me, she turned. ‘Come on Flashy Hands, now that’s sorted lets go plan how we’re gonna get this treasure.’


	82. Uninvited Guests

Pale hands clutched the royal correspondence tight, almost scrunching the paper as she examined it carefully. Occasionally Leliana would sweep a loose strand of ginger hair from her brow, her eyes never leaving the letter as she read and re-read the words before her.

The war room was deadly quiet in the still of dawn, aside from the muffled sound of the occasional horse neighing and dog barking in the grounds outside. At sunrise a messenger from Denerim had galloped in through the gates of Skyhold carrying a letter from the royal palace. Cassandra had been the first one up that morning, sitting in the main hall by the warm fire as she received the message. Hastily she had gathered the only other member of the counsel that was up and about, and hurried to the war room. 

An uneasy Seeker looked on, waiting for Leiana to finish reading. ‘Tell me this is not something we should be concerned with?’ she asked, the anxious tone in her voice suggesting that it was. ‘Why would this happen now? What could it possibly mean?’

The Spymaster tapped her finger on parchment, pondering the same question. ‘It means Alistair is requesting a meeting with the council of the Inquisition. Whatever he has to say, it must be something that concerns the Inquisition I suppose?’

Cassandra glared at the Spymaster and Leliana in turn threw her a frown.

‘Yes Cassandra I know. Alistair hates Cullen, I realise that. But he is also the King of Ferelden. It is not that unusual for a new monarch to want to sit down with allies that his kingdom has been working with and discuss matters.’ Leliana tossed the letter on the war table. ‘I’m not being naïve to the possibility of hostility. In fact in my line of work I expect it. Yet I also am aware that we left on neutral terms in Denerim after his inauguration, I don’t have reason to suspect Alistair would cause problems with us now. Not so out in the open, anyhow.’

The Seeker picked up the letter, scouring the words once more, as if in search for a hidden clue. ‘Must I remind you that Alistair removed the templars from Ostagar out in the open? He has already revealed that he holds the upper hand, and that he is not afraid to use it.’

‘An unfortunate act on his behalf, the Chantry will not forget such things in days to come.’ observed Leliana coldly. ‘That was a personal attack against Cullen, and one that he choose to direct towards the Templar Order, not the Inquisition. I believe that tells us something?’

‘What does that tell us?’ asked Cassandra doubtfully.

‘That even Alistair is not willing to use his personal agenda to interfere with a cause such as the Inquisition. Thedas needs us to defeat Corypheus, so he has little choice but to let us be.’

Cassandra sat herself down at the large war table. Taking a white goose feather quill from an inky pot, she began to write a letter in reply. ‘Cullen murdered Alistair’s wife,’ she observed stiffly ‘we must always be aware of that when dealing with him. We know that he will never forget that, and neither should we. It is impossible to establish any trust with the man for that very reason.’

‘So you keep on reminding me.’ remarked Leliana shortly ‘You act as if I had some part to play in that rather large mishap. Might I again remind you again that I did not force Cullen’s hand?’. The woman looked frustrated as she sat beside her companion. ‘Cassandra, let us try and work through this. Please, I do not wish to fight with you.’

Appearing burdened by other issues that she left unspoken, Cassandra continued to write the letter. ‘Leliana, you and I have known each other for a long while. Has there ever been a time when my concerns have proved fruitless?’

‘What do you suggest that we do then?’ asked the Spymaster.

Cassandra shrugged. ‘What else can we do? We accept the request for an audience and welcome Alistair to Skyhold.’

Holding up the letter, still wet with fresh ink, Cassandra blew on it before ringing a small bell at the table. A spritely messenger appeared at the door of the room, approaching with a semi-bow.

‘Yes Lady Pentaghast?’

Hot red wax melted on the parchment, and the Seeker pressed the mark of the Inquisition stamp firmly to seal the letter. ‘Deliver this to the Denerim Palace immediately.’ ordered Cassandra.

‘Immediately m’lady.’ nodded the messenger, heading out of the room with the letter in hand.

Cassandra appeared troubled as she watched as the messenger scurried away. ‘Let us hope we do not come to regret that invitation in days ahead.’

‘Like you said, we have little choice.’ pointed out Leliana, patting her friend’s arm in reassurance ‘It seems whatever we do, the fates have already decided how this is all going to play out.’

‘Is that supposed to comfort me or concern me?’ asked Cassandra cynically.

With a bitter laugh, Leliana threw an amused look to the Seeker. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s take a flip of the coin and see shall we?’


	83. Limerence

_‘….and the mage Eracathame defeated the barbarian hordes from the mountain of Wrencast. He cast a spell to break the ice on which they fought, and it cracked into thousands of pieces, causing the warriors to fall between and into the frozen water. The wild men of the south struggled to flee before Eracathame sealed the ice once more, but finding themselves unable to escape they were entombed beneath the frozen chamber for an eternity…..’_

_CRACK!_

_Startling from my slumber, I beheld an annoyed arcane tutor standing before me. His ruler had landed angrily on my wooden desk, waiting for my undivided attention._

_‘Ophelia Trevelyan, can you please repeat to the class the entire life story of Eracathame?’_

_It was apparent that as a result of my drifting, I was unable to recollect most of the story. Tapping my lip in pretend contemplation, I tried to bide my time as my eyes darted over to fellow mage sitting beside me._

_‘Any chance of some help?’ I whispered._

_‘Not a chance.’ whispered back a bright eyed puckish mage._

_Poking his tongue out, he grinned foolishly as I tapped my quill uneasily against the glass pot._

_‘Any time today?’ snapped the tutor ‘No? Well let that be a lesson to you all. Some mages will exalt to the heights of greatness, such as Eracathame. Others, like Ophelia here, will excel to nothing more than becoming a waste of space.’_

_‘Eracathame murdered hundreds of barbarians, I hardly think you can claim he exalted to the heights of greatness?’ I pointed out dubiously._

_The sound of scoffing came from behind me._

_‘The barbarians should have been grateful that Eracathame granted them death.’ observed a voice from the desk behind me ‘What use are those who roam without a true leader? The barbarians could have chosen to follow Eracathame and yet instead choose to remain asleep and follow a false king into the icy graves of defeat. Death was their only honourable option.’_

_Rolling my eyes at the comment, I began to fiddle with my quill again. ‘No one in their right mind is going to follow the ramblings of a mind-addled mage and consider him a true leader, no matter how powerful he turns out to be.’_

_‘Not the cry, but the flight of a wild duck leads the flock to fly and follow.’ retorted the voice loudly ‘The flock follow me Ophelia, and you are already dead.’_

_Spinning around in my chair I came face to face with Corypheus, who held a sickening toothless smile on his rotting aged face._

Gasping for breath I sat up in my bed, a cold sweat on my brow. The light of early morning trickled in through the small window of Cullen’s loft bedroom, revealing particles of glimmering dust floating in the air. It was peaceful, despite my racing heart. Feeling a gentle hand on my arm, I turned to see Cullen beside me, awake and looking at me in slight concern. Drawing back the hair from my brow, he placed a light kiss on it.

‘There you are, you’ve come back.’ he remarked softly, lying his head back on the pillow once more ‘You were thrashing around. Bad dream I take it?’

Looking around the room, I still wasn’t certain what was real and what was not. There was a slight chance that Corypheus could appear from the cupboard, or from under the bed, and I was determined to be ready for him this time.

‘It was about that bastard Corypheus.’ I muttered, rubbing my eyes tiredly. ‘It appears even in my dreams he’s a thorn in my side. Funny how I sleep but I get no rest.’

‘Join the club.’ observed Cullen, resting on his hands behind his head. His biceps bulged in this position, revealing the masculine tuft of sandy hair in his armpits. The bed sheet was lightly draped just below his navel, and a rigid outline of something hard pressed from under the cotton.

‘You couldn’t sleep either?’ I frowned.

‘No as a matter of fact I slept rather well, for the first time in quite a while. Ridiculous, I know!’ chuckled Cullen, throwing me a grin. ‘Sorry.’

His hand ran under the covers, subconsciously stroking the soft skin of my inner thigh. It was a favourite spot for the Commander, as he had confessed many times before.

‘The dream felt real.’ I murmured, trying to recall the increasingly foggy memory ‘It was as if Corypheus was actually there. But how could that be?’

Cullen’s hand continued to roam, his fingers running along the line of my lower stomach and across the band of my pants. ‘There is no use in trying to seek meaning from such things.’ he observed ‘Understandably you’ve experienced a certain amount of trauma from your encounters with Corypheus, and your mind attempts to deal with that in your sleep. That is the reason I dream so often about demons and blood magic. There is no message behind it. Take it from me, you should not worry yourself.’

Perhaps he was right, but I was still uncertain. Sometimes the dreams I dreamt and the feelings I felt came across as almost prophetic in nature. Not that I could see the future, but at times I sensed a glimpse. Like a crack of light coming through a hole in the drapes. Not that it gave me much clarity, if anything it confused me even more.

‘Well that’s easier said than done.’ I muttered, looking up towards the roof of the loft as I struggled to recall the dream that had now slipped far away.

‘My advice is less worry, more action.’ informed Cullen mischievously as he rolled onto his side. Reaching out to hold my waist, his strong arms effortlessly pulled me across to sit on top of him as he lay back on the soft bed. The Commander looked up at me with a grin, his hands playfully pulling up the white cotton shirt I had been sleeping in. ‘You see, I bet you’re feeling better already?’ he observed cheekily ‘I know I am.’

‘Oh, is this your remedy then?’ I laughed, arching my back as I allowed the Commander to pry the shirt off in a long stretch.

Cullen moved eagerly to my breasts, caressing them with his large hands. ‘Yes I find it cures all ails.’ he grinned ‘You’d do well to take my advice.’

Bringing his thumb and forefinger to his mouth, Cullen coated them in his warm saliva before drawing back to my nipples, gently pinching the taught skin with his wet digits. The tight sensation of his pinching fingers made me fervid, delighting in his arousing touch.

‘There’s a time and place for foreboding thoughts Inquisitor, and here at the present is not one of them.’ lectured the Commander, continuing to tease my breasts with a smile on his lips.

Cullen’s loft bedroom was surprisingly warm and pleasant for a soldier’s residence. The comforting scent of the forest pine wardrobe and four poster bed filled the room, mixed in with a soft fragrant amber that Cullen was fond of wearing. His sword and armour rested neatly by the small square window, which was fogged from the cold dew of morning. No pictures hung on the walls except for one small mirror, placed over the porcelain basin on a small washing table by the bed. The quarters were simple and practical, yet there was something about the room that just felt right.

Breathing in pleasurably, I drew my sight back to the naked templar lying beneath me. Cullen sat up slightly, resting his back against the wooden headboard as he kept me saddled securely on his sheet covered crotch. Of course I didn’t need to see what lay beneath, I could feel it jutting out, long and stiff.

The Commander’s morning hard on was like stone; a warm, throbbing and delectable pulsating hard cock that appeared more awake and ready to start the day than either of us. Cullen had to adjust his position several times as the discomfort from his full mast urged him to hurry up and attend to matters. The outline of his phallus looked magnificent, a giant long thick slab under a white cotton sheet. His eyes wandered down his groin, where I straddled him just below his balls, and his hands reached wantonly towards me. With a smile, he ran one teasing finger along the outside of my panties, stroking against my labia and playfully tracing a crease over my most intimate area. His lip curled into a grin as the crease grew moist, and his lustful eyes flashed into mine. It was unspoken intoxicated look that revealed Cullen’s burning desire to fuck.

As he continued to explore my concealed intimate area, the cotton grew more transparent as he rubbed away. His arousal grew and Commander’s breathing drew deeper and his dick pulsated and twinged from beneath the sheet. Desiring more than his access granted him, Cullen’s hand moved the cotton of my undergarments aside whilst with his other hand he ran a desirous finger to part the lips of my honey pot and explore the warm fleshy walls within.

Mewing at the erotic intrusion of his digits, I found myself subconsciously moving my hips to the rhythm of his ministrations. Cullen bent me over his muscular arm as he came up to mouth one of my breasts, whilst his hand buried further into my panties. The warmth of his mouth sucked greedily from nipple to nipple, as his fingers hungrily pushed further into my cunt.

‘Maker, I love it when you are so fucking juicy.’ Cullen growled, breathing in deeply as he eagerly explored my wetness with his large fingers.

His thick middle finger swept along my pearl, circling over and over as he sat up a little more urgently now, succumbing to his desire to play. A master of experience, the templar knew exactly how much pressure to apply as he ran his finger over, under and around the engorged nub, only then to dip his fingers into a curve high up in my passage, to reach that sweet spot he knew would trigger more intense reactions. With short and firmer nudges with his two fingers he hit the spot inside me over and over again, causing me to cry out even louder in pleasure. Washed in a warm flush of euphoria, something primal triggered in me as I widened my thighs and opened myself up to him, whispering under my breath for him to not stop. Flashing a wide smile, Cullen firmly planted his mouth on mine, lapping his tongue deeply to taste me as he fucked me with his hot fingers. For several minutes the templar drowned me in his hot kisses and deep digits, a ravenous look in his eyes as his senses became heightened with lust. 

Spreading my knees on either side of his hips, I felt the course hair of the Commander’s thighs against my legs as he lifted my hips up. Cullen swiftly removed his fingers from me and replaced them with his throbbing root, holding the meaty erection between my lips where the large head lingered but did not penetrate.

Raining hot kisses on his neck and jawline, I was desperate for his cock to fill me. Cullen chuckled, teasing my cunny while he coated his manhood with my juices and the sweet glistening pre-cum that leaked from his tip.

‘Please.’ I murmured at his ear, recommencing the onslaught of kisses on his neck ‘I want you.’

Fiercely my hands ran across his smooth chest, desperately dragging finger tips over the muscles that had been marked with many enemy’s blades. Cullen’s broad chest inhaled and exhaled rigidly, the man using all his willpower to brace himself from succumbing and impaling me hard. The templar continued to massage the tip of his hard prick against my clit, circling his todger in playful swirls and teasing dips.

‘Beg for it.’ he whispered hotly, placing a firm hand against my stomach to hold me back from claiming his member. ‘You’re a dirty little mage who wants to be fucked hard by the Knight-Commander. Beg the Knight-Commander to fuck you.’

Grinning at the templar, I kissed him on the lips before lingering beside his ear. ‘Knight-Commander Cullen,’ I whispered ‘please fuck me and use me. This filthy mage is begging you.’

Cullen chuckled as he moved his pelvis up and released his hand from my stomach, pushing his hard member in nice and deep and slow.

‘Your naked thighs wrapped around me as I sink my cock into you.….Maker’s breath how I love it.’ he moaned as he pushed his dick in deep, sitting up to wrap his muscular arms securely around me. The Commander held his full erection in me, savouring the first taste of heat on his cock. Finally he loosened his grip, allowing me to ride his member as we pressed our palms together, supporting my weight so I could fuck him. The templar’s eyes rolled back as his hips gyrated, eagerly pushing upwards to fill me deeper on each thrust. The smell of sex filled the air, sending our senses wild as Cullen impaled me with an increasing pace. The familiar grunt of his primal urges came out, and suddenly his amber eyes revealed a wildness that came out only in the best and worst of times.

Holding my buttocks in one hand, he spun me around in one virile move. Now Cullen was on top, and the predatory look in his eye told me he was about to claim his prey.

Two strong arms planted beside my shoulders, the templar began to fuck me hard as he released his pent up desire. My thighs wrapped around him tight as his fullness went in deep. Cullen’s eyes lulled half shut, possessed in lust as he thrust his thick cock deep, groaning with a chuckle of euphoria at the hot sensation of filling himself to the hilt in my chasm. His short breaths revealed an urgency of wanting to come but his pace slowed, suggesting he was not ready to release his seed. Unfortunately I was unable to be so controlled. Cullen thrust slowly, but deep and hit that spot repeatedly that cause my skin to grow warmer and warmer and my heart rate faster and faster. The templar grinned as he watched me begin to lose it, his hips now thrusting deep and hard. The bed shook violently against the wall and the wooden ornaments on the top of the posts rattled as the Commander rutted with all his stamina, causing me to cry out in several ragged sobs as I came hard with his member still fucking me deeply.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ teased Cullen, looking very pleased at the quivering mess he had caused. His cock still hard and hungry, he refused to stop the pace and looked as if he were about to unleash himself on me for his own release.

‘No.’ I whispered deviously, pushing his hips away from mine ‘’Let me drink you.’

Cullen looked down in surprise, biting his bottom lip to conceal a wide grin. He chuckled, slowly pulling out his meaty member. ‘You are a dirty little mage.’ he observed in a voice drenched in sex. Hand on his cock, he stroked his hard manhood as he knelt back on the bed and watched me with come hither eyes.

My lips followed down to his cock, and before I even made contact I could feel the intense heat coming off it. My full lips placed a teasing light kiss on the tip, and I looked up at the man with a grin. The templar’s cock twinged, and Cullen remained deathly quiet as he watch from above in anticipation. Once again, his breathing told me he was very close to exploding.

Opening my mouth, I eased his stiff cock past my lips. My tongue melted against his warm flesh, licking eagerly along the soft skin of hard shaft and back across the tip. Cullen groaned, gently lacing his fingers in my hair and stroking it affectionately. Running my tongue flat to lick the tip of his cock, I tasted more salty pre-cum spilling from the slit of his dick. The tempalr moaned even louder, evidently enjoying the assault.

‘Ophelia.’ Cullen murmured, his tone warning me he was close.

Smiling, I drew his manhood back into my mouth. I knew he was refraining from ramming his dick down my throat. There was a savage lust on his face that told me were it anyone else he may have, but with me Cullen always held back a little. He held my head gently and eased cock in and out, allowing me to choose the pace and depth. Every time Cullen’s cock nudged the back of my throat he shivered under his breath with an intoxicated ‘Oh fuck…..’

Faster I began to lick and suck and slurp on his fleshy sword, and Cullen began to succumb to a series of grunts and groans and breathless cries. His lust got the better of him on several occasions as he pushed his manhood deep, causing me to gag. He would then ease up once more, using his willpower to stop himself. The Commander’s breath was ragged as he allowed me to ravage his manhood with my hungry mouth, and he stood there growing more and more desperate in pleasurable agony. Finally he could not take it and gently tilted my head back as he stood over me on the bed. This position opened my mouth and throat deeper for him, and the Commander now began to ease his cock slowly and deeply in and out of mouth.

‘Do you want a full taste of my cream?’ he asked hoarsely, unable to stop the steady rhythm of fucking my mouth with his giant member. His fingers stroked my throat, and strangely this helped me relax and take him deeper.

Unable to speak, I mumbled a uh-huh as Cullen came over me with a dark smile and slowly began to plunge his cock deep in mouth. ‘Good girl, just relax a little more. That’s it…shhhhh.’ he ordered gently, as if settling a horse in the stables. His hips pressing firmly towards my head, I gagged several times as I grew accustomed to his large member assaulting my throat. Cullen was now lost in a haze of euphoria, riding on a high as his neck muscles tightened and his head was drawn back. The veins in his neck bulged, and his body grew tight.

‘Fuck….fuck…Maker I’m going to…’. Cullen held my head gently as he plunged his cock in my mouth, releasing his stream of seed in several spurts. His dick jolted and twitched, releasing load after load of sticky white cum that I gulped eagerly in salty splashes. Cullen held my head gently but firmly as he emptied his balls into me without pulling away, and I was happy to swallow all that he offered. When the last drop was squeezed out, and I had sucked the templar dry, I finally pulled my mouth off his spent cock, a grin on my face.

Cullen scooped my face in his hands, drawing his hungry mouth to mine and kissed me deeply. He wasn’t the kind of man that shied away from juices, in fact he seemed to enjoy sexual secretions a great deal, and the templar was happy to taste himself mixed with my saliva as he kissed me passionately over and over again.

‘You, dear Inquisitor, are a sultry fiend that makes me very thankful to have you in my bed.’ chuckled the satisfied templar. ‘Maker that was exquisite, my balls are aching.’

‘Good.’ I teased. Lying back on the bed, my eyes drifted shut dreamily. ‘You taste delicious Commander, just between you and me.’

‘Good,’ smirked the templar ‘it’s on tap whenever you wish.’. Pulling a white loose shirt over his head, Cullen flashed a wink. ‘Also I must apologise for the late hour I came in last night, I hope you weren’t waiting up? When I arrived you were fast asleep and snoring so loudly I was certain these was a darkspawn in the room.’

Throwing a pillow at the templar, it landed at his chest. Cullen grabbed it before it fell, laughing.

‘No I suspected you would be busy,’ I replied ‘I just wanted to see you so I decided sleeping in your bed in an unconscious state would suffice.’

Cullen appeared more than happy to oblige. ‘Well I’m glad that you did. It was a nice surprise to walk on.’

Knowing that I had to tell Cullen of what had happened, I bit my lip in slight apprehension. ‘Sera wanted me to go over some business yesterday evening, and Varric and Michel happened by. Before I knew it the damn dwarf was pointing out this in front of everyone.’ .I held up my hand where the gold ring remained on my finger. ‘Michel went ballistic.’

Cullen rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disgust. ‘There’s a surprise. Put on a bit of a performance, did he? Perhaps I’ll see the matinee today, if I’m lucky.’

‘No Cullen you don’t understand. He was angry. He cursed you in elvish and said something about his blade and revenge being swift. I mean, he was hurt. It’s just…I’ve never seen him so upset before.’

‘Really?!’ remarked Cullen in amusement, his eyes positively laughing ‘So the Maister plans to use his swift blade on me. How charming!’

‘He was dead serious.’ I warned.

‘That’s the Orlesian in him, what of it?’ dismissed Cullen, pulling on his pants ‘I dare say the man would challenge a croissant to a dual if he felt even remotely affronted by it.’ Securing the belt, Cullen sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to kiss me before pulling on his boots.

‘Also I accidentally, stupidly, let slip that Leliana was pregnant with your child.’ I added hastily, semi hiding behind a pillow clutched at my chest. ‘You don’t need to say a word, I’ve been berating myself for it the whole night. It was so incredibly foolish.’

Appearing tired more than vexed, Cullen sighed. ‘Maker what have you done?’ he muttered ‘You do realise this was not the way I wanted the dear gossiping residents of Skyhold to learn about it?’. Running his hand through his sandy hair, the templar appeared troubled at the thought. ‘Naturally I knew people would learn of Leliana’s pregnancy sooner or later, but I was hoping it would have been later. Much, much later and preferably without the knowledge of who the father was. Knowing Leliana, I’m certain that would never have remained a mystery for long. Most likely she’ll shout it from the rooftops when the time is right.’

Biting my lip, I threw the man an apologetic frown. ‘Sorry.’

His large arms drew me to his chest in a fond embrace as he leant in to place a kiss on my lips, sensual and deep. ‘It’s fine Ophelia.’ he murmured, peppering hungry kisses on my cheek and down my neck. His breathing grew deeper as his hands began to run across my body. ‘Maker stop,’ he moaned ‘already there is too much work for me to do today and all I want to do is perform dark and filthy deeds on you.’. Cullen withdrew from the bed, reaching for his breast plate. Securing it over his chest, he began to tighten the straps on the sides. ‘Between you and me, I may have had a similar experience with Leliana yesterday.’

‘You told her? I can imagine how that played out,’ I chortled ‘and yet you still live? Miracles do happen!’

Tightening his pauldrons, Cullen looked not so amused. ‘Let’s just say she was extremely displeased upon learning that we were to be wed. Even tried her hand at a few threats.’

The templar caught my attention and there was now real concern on my face. Cullen had warned me about Leliana, and now she was making threats? Should he and I be worried now that we now suffered the wrath of the Divine?

Guessing my thoughts, the Commander shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about it, she knows that won’t work with me. Try as she might, like I’ve said before, she will learn.’. The man finished getting dressed and swiftly grabbed his long sword off the wooden chest by the window. ‘I scheduled a meeting in the barracks this morning, you must excuse me loving and now leaving.’

‘Typical.’ I scorned, throwing him a playful smile.

The bed groaned under the weight of the armoured man as he kneeled over me, drawing his mouth to mine. Cullen’s soft lips teased mine lightly before drawing back. ‘I expect you to be just as you are when I return tonight.’ he whispered.

‘Oh does that mean I get a day off then?’ I grinned.

‘No, get back to work and that’s an order.’ laughed the Commander, heading out the door with a wink.

****

Thoughtful blue eyes cast out across the sunburnt countryside as Alistair sat tall in his saddle. From the open azure sky to the vast lands surrounding, this was his land, as it had been his brother Cailan’s and his father Maric’s before him. The concept had taken a while to get used to, and even now Alistair felt like he should be riding with the soldiers behind or in front of him rather than being escorted in the middle. It was strange for he felt like the same old templar in days of old, the one that wanted nothing more to follow the Wardens and live a life of service to a greater cause. Yet life hadn’t turned out the way he had planned, even all those years ago. Duncan and his half-brother Cailan were killed by the Darkspawn at Ostagar and yet he was miraculously saved by Flemeth in a rare twist of fate that would seal his own forever.

Nothing ever happened the way it should and yet sometimes it turned out for the best, irrespective of whether he saw it at the time or not. Now Alistair was king and faced a decision that he knew was unfair. Unfair to Ophelia, and unfair to himself. In future days perhaps they would both be thankful for this day. The day that he rode out to Skyhold to inform the Inquisition and the realm what he had decided to do. Maker how he hoped that one day he would look back and know this was the right decision.

Proudly riding alongside him was his uncle Arl Teagan. The sun shone on his long reddish-brown hair, braided in the traditional Ferelden style and his athletic body was armoured in brilliant green quilted jacket and trousers, with a shiny steel breastplate secured over his torso. Teagan’s hand patted his horse’s neck as he looked up at the blue sky.

‘The weather is clear and the roads are dry, we should make it to the Hinterlands by dusk.’ observed Teagan. Looking to his nephew, he could see the concern on Alistair’s face. ‘Something tells me that news doesn’t please you so much?’

‘Am I that transparent?’ remarked Alistair.

Teagan chuckled, and Alistair broke into a smile.

‘There we are! You’re your old self again!’ grinned Teagan ‘Ah come now, don’t let this whole ruling Ferelden thing get you done. You’re doing a fine job. Remarkable in fact! The people truly love you Alistair, you should hear how they talk about you. You know winning their affection is half the battle?’

‘Yes and the other half is securing my kingdom by making impossible alliances through matrimony.’ observed Alistair solemnly, the smile on his facing fading once more. ‘Teagan tell me honestly, is Ophelia Trevelyan really the best choice?’

His uncle shrugged. ‘Best choice for Ferelden? Yes. Best choice for you? Probably not. Anora was never the best choice for Cailan. And we all know my sister was never the best choice for your father Maric.’

‘Then why did Rowan marry my father?’ queried Alistair.

‘Rowan was betrothed to Maric before she had even came of age. It is the way of life Alistair, but I fear you have been shielded from that to your own disadvantage. Had you been raised in the palace as a child, Maric would have arranged your marriage with a well-connected politically and financially valuable family. That is a fact. It is also a fact that the game of allegiance is an emotionally detached and somewhat ruthless one. My father Rendorn Guerrin used to say; there are things we must do, things that must be done, to survive. Queen Moira did them and so shall her son.’. Teagan nodded sagely at the words. ‘And he was right. Your grandmother Moira, and your father Maric faced the same choices and questionings that you face now. Take heart Alistair, you are doing what is right for your kingdom and your people. There is no greater honour or sacrifice than that.’

His brow furrowed as he contemplated the words of his uncle. ‘What you’re saying makes sense Teagan, I’m just having a little trouble coming to terms with how that feels. I’m about to force a woman into marrying me. I never wanted to be that sort of king, or man.’

‘You are not that man, Alistair. You are the King of Ferelden, and Ophelia Trevelyan is the Inquisitor of the Inquisition. You must see that your role and hers do not define you as people. The choices you must make as rulers do not reflect your true nature.

The king looked doubtful. ‘If my actions do not represent who I am, then I am a fraud, uncle.’

‘The actions of ruling Ferelden could never truly reflect who you really are as a person.’ dismissed Teagan with a grin ‘If that were true, there would be laws requiring a cheese making barn to be present in every shire from the Brecilian Forest to Lake Calenhad.’

‘And a ban on Chantry sermons on Sunday.’ mused Alistair ‘In fact, let’s scrap all sermons and replace them with cheese.’

Teagan shook his head, growing serious once more. ‘But I will tell you how your actions do reflect who you are as a person. You are a Ferelden that has a responsibility to his people and his land. What do you see before you now? The Inquisition. A group separate from your kingdom, which holds an incredibly powerful military presence comprising of your people. No good king, or man, would sit back and allow this to continue without certain measures being put in place. Look at how effortlessly the Inquisition has sailed into your lands and taken over. Look at how they took Caer Bronach. Does it remind you of another group? One who invaded Ferelden to keep the peace?’

Alistair’s horse snorted, and the man frowned.

Teagan nodded, knowing Alistair knew all too well. ‘It may have been before your time but fact is fact. The Grey Wardens attacked the royal army of Ferelden with the intent of taking over the kingdom. Thankfully King Arland had the good sense to banish the order from his lands before he lost Ferelden entirely.’

‘It goes to show how even a righteous group can threaten your entire kingdom when they hold a little too much power.’ acknowledged Alistair, appearing disturbed at the notion.

‘Precisely.’ agreed Teagan ‘However I fear the Inquisition is a much greater threat than the Grey Wardens ever were, and this is something you must take care of now. Take care of it before a disaster lands at your doorstep, eh? How many lives will be lost then? Your actions today are that of a good man and a good king, ensuring the future security of his people, land and assets. That is the way you must see this Alistair, for that is the truth of the matter.’

Silently Alistair pondered the advice from his uncle, running his fingers through his horses white mane. Pulling his reins tight, Alistair suddenly began to on ride ahead.

‘Where are you going?’ called out Teagan, looking perplexed.

‘To be the king that Ferelden deserves.’ shouted back Alistair, determinedly making his way to the front of the line.


	84. Specific Obligations

Horses neighed and heavy hooves rumbled across the cobbled stones as the King of Ferelden and his escort came riding in through Skyhold. Fifty soldiers and twenty knights dressed in silver plate mail rode behind Alistair Theirin, along with several members from his inner council. Brown and green royal banners flapped vibrantly in the air, with a shield shaped crest and two red lions facing each other. It was the royal emblem of the Kingdom of Ferelden, and was heralded across the land as the mark of the lion.

_A lion sleeps in the heart of every brave man._

Alistair rode into Skyhold on a beautiful white horse. A golden crown adorned his head and he was wearing brilliant gold plated armour, and from head to toe the man shone like the sun. He looked regal as a king should, and yet he also was humble enough to nod warm hellos and smiles to the residents that hailed him from the battlements and surrounding courtyard. The people flocked in large numbers to behold the king, and soon the crowded inner sanction of the keep became swarmed with cheering Ferelden men and woman, determined to welcome their new king to Skyhold.

Rigid and slightly on guard, the Inquisition council waited patiently at the top of the stairs outside the main hall, watching on as the royal party dismounted. We were a little unsettled by the unexpected visit, which promised no explanation of its reason. For days now I had unsuccessfully attempted not to worry about the impending arrival of the king, but to no avail. How could I not worry about the safety of Cullen as long as Alistair lingered in the background, now in a powerful position that was the King of Ferelden? Cullen was a sitting duck, irrespective of all the reassurances the council gave me to suggest otherwise.

‘Don’t fret.’ whispered Cullen, nudging me in the ribs with his elbow. He threw me a smirk as I looked to him. ‘You’re pinching your lip with your finger,’ he observed ‘so stop whatever silly thoughts are going on in that head of yours.’

Vivienne clapped her hands, spotting Alistair and his council dismounting in the distance. ‘Not too long now my dears. Remember what I said? Happy faces.’. Her lips transformed into an unnatural smile, dazzling us with white teeth that reminded me of an angry cat. ‘We will keep the conversation to positive topics, or we shall say nothing at all. Listen more than you talk, and think before you speak.’. Looking directly at Varric, Vivienne added sharply ‘Let us also remember the three no-nos of polite conversation. No interrupting, no one-upmanship, and no oversharing. Cultivate a little mystery and you leave your guests intrigued.’

Varric looked playfully offended. ‘Why am I being singled out here? And Iron Lady, while we’re at it, shouldn’t the three no-nos more suitable be referred to as the three no-no-nos?’

Cassandra shuffled uneasily in between Cullen and Leliana. Her brown eyes cast from side to side, and her frown grew heavier. ‘If would be better if Vivienne, Michel and I do as much of the talking as possible.’ she observed.

Michel nodded silently, his head held tall as he looked on ahead. Ever since his outburst at the tavern several days prior, he had not uttered one word to me or Cullen. It was as if nothing had happened at all, aside from the fact that his unnerving quietude suggested that this was definitely not the case. Quiet waters run deep and there’s always a devil beneath.

‘We must keep this civil.’ observed Leliana calmly ‘We represent the Inquisition, and Alistair represents Ferelden. Relations must be kept civil for the benefit of all.’

Varric twirled a bolt between his fingers, throwing a dubious look at the spymaster. ‘Yeah great advice Nightingale. Meanwhile how come Sparrow and I never got a mention as people that can talk during this civil meeting?’

The rogue chuckled as Cassandra gave him a look that threatened him to be silent.

‘Well thanks Varric, but I’m happy to keep out of this.’ I observed, forcing a smile on my face as Alistair and his men ascended the stairs towards us. The group behind me shuffled and straightened, and I could imagine their faces plastered with fake smiles and teeth exposed.

‘King Alistair,’ I greeted warmly ‘you and your party are most welcome to Skyhold!’. I nodded to the men behind him in acknowledgement, spotting Arl Teagan and Eamon Guerrin.

Alistair clasped my arm firmly but gently, with a friendly smile on his face. ‘It is good to see you again Inquisitor Trevelyan.’. Casting his eyes to several council members, but not all, he added ‘And it is good to see the Council of the Inquisition.’

‘I hope your journey was a pleasant one?’ smiled Michel, extending his hand to bestow a warm and welcoming shake with the king.

Before our very eyes the quiet Maister of Blades suddenly transformed into a cheerful chevalier full of spirit. His blue eyes sparkled with merriment as he spotted a man behind the king, and laughed in recognition.

‘Arl Teagan!’ remarked Michel, appearing extremely amused.

‘Ser Michel!’ greeted Teagan, extending his arms and embracing the man fondly as if they were old friends. ‘Goodness, we’d better not start any fights here at the keep because I forgot to pack my feather!’

Michel laughed heartily, apparently quite amused. ‘That was at the Empress’s insistence, I think it is imperative all present know I did not willingly enter a duel armed with a feather.’

Michel of course was referring to the duel he was made to fight against Teagan Guerrin in years prior, under the instruction of Empress Celene. Gaspard had been intent on causing conflict and claimed he possessed the sword of the deceased Rowan Theirin. He insulted Teagan by refusing to return the blade, and further claiming Teagan’s sister’s sword was not worth the steel it was made of, and he had left it to rust and kill the occasional rat. In defence of Rowan’s honour, and Ferelden’s, Teagan demanded Gaspard fight him in a duel to the death. Empress Celene was forced to intervene at the last moment, and name Michel as the one to fight Teagan and not Gaspard. As Michel was to choose the weapon of choice to be fought in the duel, he was instructed by the Empress to choose feathers. The choice thus rendered the duel harmless, and no men were harmed.

Teagan chuckled, rubbing his hands with glee. ‘Sure sure, that’s what you say now. You should have seen the man. Decked in the armour of the Champion of Orlais, this mighty plate armour that was worth half the fortune of Antiva. He also had the finest blade in hand to boot. So here we are and the duel is about to begin, and Michel here clears his throat and politely informs me we shall be fighting with feathers. Feathers!!!! Hahahaha! Ahhh bless you, I still laugh about it to this very day.’. Eamon wiped a happy tear from his eye, unable to stop grinning.

Michel ran a hand through his blonde hair, a playful smile on his somewhat mischievous face. ‘I made a lot of enemies that day, don’t you worry.’

‘And no doubt a lot of admirers!’ mused Teagan, grinning as he looked over to us ‘You should see what this one can do with a feather.’

The chevalier chuckled as he cast his gaze to the south, pointing up at the sky with great interest. ‘It looks like a storm was coming in over the horizon. I hope it did not meet you there on the mountainside?’

Teagan groaned ‘We got caught right in the middle of it! I fear that squelching noise is a bucket full of rain in all our boots!’

Alistair threw an amused look to his uncle, and I couldn’t help but smile also. Alistair and Teagan seemed a jovial pair that were full of jokes and amusing stories. I imagined they would be fun company when the day’s jobs were done and there was a moment to relax. Unfortunately, as I was constantly reminded by the war council, there was no room in Skyhold for joviality and light hearted banter, or relaxing.

Cassandra extended her hand to the main hall. ‘Shall we discuss matters in the war room, or would you like to bring your men into the main hall?’ she asked, ready to attend to business.

‘Heck they might want some refreshments first, Seeker?’ chortled Varric, throwing an apologetic wave to Alistair. ‘Don’t mind that one, they call her the task master for good reason.’

Cassandra folded her arms crossly. ‘No Varric, you call me that. Everyone else calls me by my proper name.’

Alistair chuckled at the pair. His blue eyes turned, crossing past mine and for a moment held them. It was a curious exchange, as if something else was on Alistair’s mind. ‘No thank you,’ he replied, looking back to the war counsel ‘while that is very kind of you Varric, I think it is important that I address the matter I came here to address. Although first I would ask if I could speak to the Inquisitor in private? It should not take long. After that, if we could all gather in the war room that would be an appropriate place to hold our gathering.’

The counsel turned to me with suspicious eyes, as if I was privy to something they were not. Why did Alistair seek my council before theirs? I had no idea. No one did.

‘Of course your Majesty.’ I smiled, shifting a little uneasily in my steps. ‘So, did you want to speak in the war room now?’

Alistair drew his hand behind him. ‘I could do with a chance to stretch my legs. I noticed a fair lookout from the battlements on the south wall. Would you care to accompany me there?’

Accepting his invitation with a certain degree of bewilderment we descended the stairs quietly, leaving the remaining party to silently watch on in slight apprehension.

****

Nervously Alistair and I walked, side by side, on the battlements. Since I had met the man I had considered him to be a light hearted and amicable sort of person. However appearances could be deceiving, and since the death of Sierra I feared Alistair’s merry character was now nothing but a ruse. How could it not be? No man in his right mind would be smiling in such a place. A place where Cullen resided and worked as Commander. So why was Alistair here with a smile on his face?

‘It’s funny, you know?’ remarked Alistair, looking out over the ranges ‘Over there is my kingdom. Kingdooom. Kiiiinnnngdooooom. Sounds strange, doesn’t it?’

Grinning at the man in jest, I joined him to look out at the view before us. ‘It must feel even stranger knowing it’s all yours. How does it feel being a king?’

Alistair shrugged. ‘Well breakfast, lunch and dinner are still the same. Oh but everyone bows to you and smiles and forgets your real name and calls you your majesty. It sounds odd every time I hear it.’

Laughing at the man, I nodded in empathy. ‘Try Inquisitor, or Herald of Andraste.’

‘You have it worse than me!’ grinned Alistair ‘Oh don’t get me wrong, being a king isn’t too bad after you get over the puffy pantaloons and the pompous walk they make you do’.

‘Not a fan of pomp and puff?’ I mused.

‘Sorry I know, I’m joking.’ he confessed ‘I actually do like wearing puffy pantaloons.’

‘Well who doesn’t?’ I pointed out jokingly ‘If it were up to me I’d be dressed in the puffiest pantaloons you’d ever seen, and two hundred inch pointed shoes.’

‘That curl round and round?’ grinned Alistair.

‘Absolutely. The curlier the better.’ I nodded ‘With bells on the end so they tinkle whenever I try out that pompous walk you speak of.’

His face brightened with a light I had never noticed before. If just for a moment Alistair was truly happy talking utter nonsense. A king perhaps, but he was exceptionally down to earth and cheerful. It was obvious why the men and women favoured the man as their new king.

Suddenly the merry smile somewhat faded from Alistair’s face. ‘You and I hardly know a thing about each other. It doesn’t seem right. Would you permit me to share something about myself?’

Completely baffled by the request, I smiled and nodded. ‘Of course, I’d be happy to hear anything you wish to talk about.’

Alistair chuckled. ‘So polite. They didn’t teach you those manners here, that’s for sure.’

‘My mentor at the circle tower in Ostwick used to say good manners and kindness were the fabric of a person of heart.’ I acknowledged, adding with a laugh ‘Come to think of it, I’m not entirely sure what he was on about, but it sounded right. The civil way to treat people is with a well-tempered attitude. And kindness, always kindness.’

Alistair clicked his fingers. ‘I know, right? Everyone is blustering around angrily and here I am thinking, hey can’t we all be friends?’

‘Corypheus didn’t want to be friends with me.’ I shrugged.

‘Neither did the archdemon with me, and that was after I told him he looked pretty.’ observed Alistair, sounding playfully hurt ‘Aaaand while we’re at it neither did Queen Anora and most of the kingdom at one point. Threatened my execution and half a dozen other sharp and ouchie things.’

Alistair grinned as I laughed, pleased that he had an entertained audience before him.

‘You’ve distracted me from what I wanted to speak about,’ he observed ‘although I can say that is only a good thing in times like these.’. The man grew serious again, turning to me once more. ‘Before the Blight, there was a time when I was just a Grey Warden. Barely a warden in fact, I was a new recruit with no real understanding of what life was like. I was sent to Ostagar to aid in the battle of Cailan’s against the darkspawn, and it was there that my brother and my comrades were slaughtered. Every single one of them.’

Such tales were tragically sad, but this one seemed even more so because of the pained tone evident in Alistair’s voice. It was wistful, as if he looked upon that moment as a pillar stone in his life. A crossroads that he had passed through and had never been the same again.

‘I’m so sorry.’ I murmured ‘That must have been awful for you?’

Alistair threw me an appreciative nod. ‘For a short while there I wanted to give up, but I knew that I had a duty to the Grey Wardens to continue on. It wasn’t a duty I wanted, mind you. Happy to follow in a large order of wardens, sure why not! But me leading? No no noooooo thank you.’. Alistair shrugged ‘Still I knew it had to be me. Looking back now, I’m glad that I traipsed the path I didn’t wish to follow. If I hadn’t, Thedas would an entirely different place now. You and I most likely would not even be alive?’

‘You’re a hero Alistair.’ I confessed ‘I don’t think there is a man, woman or child who would dispute that.’

Alistair shook his head, as if he did dispute it. ‘No, I’m just a man.’. The king hesitated, his hand running along the parapet as he turned to face me. ‘Ophelia, my kingdom needs a strong alliance. I need a strong alliance. And this alliance needs to come in the form of a strong matrimony.’. His blue eyes looked innocently into mine as he cupped his hands together, almost as if he were praying. ‘It’s like in a game of chess. Or no, it’s actually nothing like that. Wicked grace? Uh no, scrap that. Orlesian Quiff Quiff? No….well maybe using games isn't the best idea….Maker what am I saying? Okay, what I’m trying to say, rather inarticulously, is…I need a wife with the strength of the Inquisition behind her.’

Blindsided by complete and utter shock, I spent the next few minutes trying to understand what I surely misheard. Alistair waited for an answer, and waited….and waited…and waited…..

‘Uhhhh…’ I finally replied uneasily ‘…I’m sorry I don’t really understand what you’re saying?’

‘I am proposing marriage.’ replied Alistair, throwing an uncomfortable smile. ‘Maker knows you are thinking I’ve lost the plot and become the mad king in a space of a few short weeks. But I promise that isn’t the case, this is a marriage of alliances. It ensures the security of my people and my lands whilst the Inquisition heavily relies on using them both. My council would say it is the price that we demand on such a service.’. Alistair chuckled nervously ‘Councils, right? Annoying but practical parts of leadership. Wish they weren’t always in my ear, but then again I like my ears so….’

‘Uhhhhhh…..’ I replied again, cursing myself for not remembering any other words in my vocabulary. Shaking my head at the man, I threw him an amused smile. ‘This is a joke, isn’t it? Why are we joking about this? Haha that’s brilliant, you really had me going there for a mo-’

‘No.’ he injected determinedly. Alistair’s face remained deadly serious. ‘No Ophelia, I am being completely sincere with you. I am so sorry to put this on you, but this is the price I must ask in exchange for Ferelden’s support. If I cannot marry you, then the stability of my kingdom will not be secure whilst the Inquisition is running alongside it. The people must see that we are united, or not see us together at all.’

‘But we are united already,’ I blurted out nervously ‘united as united can be. It’s true you know, the Inquisition and Ferelden are like this.’. I crossed my fingers tight, cursing at how doltish I must have appeared.

‘It will never be a true union unless we are married.’ observed Alistair gently, throwing me a sad smile. ‘This is the unfortunate way that kingdoms work.’

Before me I could see a plan that could soon spiral out of control. I had to think fast of anything that could wipe this ludicrous idea from Alistair’s head once and for all. ‘Yes but I can’t marry you.’ I responded swiftly. Holding up my hand, I revealed the gold ring. ‘I’m already engaged.’

Alistair beheld the ring in surprise, his eyes looking to the band and then away.

‘To Michel de Chevin?’ he asked remorsefully.

Clenching my fists in angst, I did not wish to answer the question. You fool Ophelia! Why did you have to mention the engagement?

‘No to Cullen.’ I replied hesitantly, unwilling to say the name of the man that Alistair already hated so much.

Alistair seemed to straighten a little, looking less pallid than moments prior. ‘I’m….so very sorry Ophelia As I said this is the price the Inquisition must pay.’

Laughing in bewilderment, I crossed my arms. ‘Or what? Marry you or what?’. My politeness was beginning to fade, now replaced with great bouts of sour cynicism.

‘My council advise me that Ferelden should withdraw it’s support from the Inquisition and it’s cause.’ informed Alistair ‘I am sorry Ophelia, that is the decision of a king and it is one I did not make lightly.’

Heart racing, I began to pace nervously. ‘You can’t be serious?’ I remarked angrily ‘Alistair I’m already taken. Even if I weren’t, we do not love each other!! We hardly have said two words to each other!’

Alistair nodded reverently, as if he understood all too well what I was saying but it made little difference. ‘That is what I said to the council.’ he confessed, adding swiftly ‘That is what I said before I had a greater understanding of why it has to be this way.’

‘And what did your council have to say about that?’

Alistair turned to me, a sad look on his face. ‘They said that I have been born into a role that brings specific obligation, as have you by chance. These are obligations that cannot be ignored. Ophelia believe me when I say I had no desire to be king. None at all. All I ever wanted as child was to have a mother and father to look after me and love me. I never got that. Now I hold a title of power that I do not want. Do you understand?’. Alistair sighed ‘Of course not, how could you?’

A heaviness grew within me for I knew exactly how he felt. He could have described my life desires and disappointments word for word, so entwined were the two. Neither Alistair nor I received what we wanted, so simple a wish, and yet instead we were handed a complex role that would change who we were forever.

‘Alistair I understand, I do. I even could understand why your council would ask you to do this. But please, I beg of you tell them no. You cannot do this to the Inquisition after all the good we do. Thedas will crumble without us.’

Alistair shook his head. ‘If there was another way I would Ophelia, but you are the Inquisitor. It has to be you.’

‘So what now? You will go to the council and tell them what?’ I asked sharply ‘Ophelia better marry me or everyone’s fucked.’

‘I will tell them that you face an ultimatum that you do not deserve to face.’ replied Alistair solemnly ‘I will tell them that this is a decision that I do not make lightly, and one that saddens me more than you will ever know.’

Scoffing at the comment, I turned away.

‘I am not saddened because of you.’ explained Alistair quickly ‘It saddens me because I don’t want to put this responsibility on you. I don’t want to stand here and make you do anything you do not want to do. But I am, and I apologise so very deeply for it. You must make a decision. Marry me or Ferelden will withdraw it support from the Inquisition. I’m sorry Ophelia, I truly am.’

Without another word, Alistair turned his heel and set off across the battlements. Clutching the parapet with my hands and squeezing the stone with all my might, I looked helplessly out across the horizon and began to pray.


	85. Pale Green Chimera

The Inquisition War Council and the Ferelden Royal Council were already gathered in the war room when I arrived. I recognised Teagan and Eamon Guerrin standing by the window, but there were several other men in armour that I only vaguely recalled seeing at the royal inauguration. Distracted and only half present, I shuffled my way into the crowded space of armour clad members. The heavy scent of damp leather and sweat was overwhelming, a suffocating reminder that there was no escape. At least for now.

In the short while that I had remained on the battlements, I had desperately wracked my brain for a solution to avoid Alistair’s ultimatum. Nothing came to mind aside from me running, which of course never turned out too well. Then I transformed into royal matchmaker, hopelessly trying to think of anyone else that could marry the king instead. No one that came to mind. Then it finally occurred to me that my trusty Inquisition council would talk sense into the royal council and their ludicrous plans. They too would feel the same outrage that I felt, and would deal with it accordingly. Not all was lost. It would be fine.

_Completely fine._

There was no time to warn the others of what was about to happen as I drew up to the war table beside Varric. Alistair was already waiting at the head of the oak, watching me enter the room with that serious albeit apologetic look that he had held on the battlements. It didn’t ease my anger, and if anything it made me even more furious. Furious that this man could come into my keep and try to influence my life, as if I were a mere piece on his chess board.

‘So what did kingy-king-king have to say?’ whispered Varric, looking keen to get the gossip. ‘He came in just before, pretty damn unhappy might I add. Bumped into the Seeker and sent all her notes scattering.’. Varric chuckled, as if he had been greatly amused by the incident. ‘Yeah but he looked like he was about to kiss the gunner’s daughter, know what I mean? I reckon it meant either you said some cockamamie bullshit to the man, or he had a bowl of Madame Ruthie’s eel stew.’. Varric added with a grin. ‘And knowing your track record, I’m guessin’ you said something downright foolhardy.’

‘Varric I hope you your pen and paper ready, you’re about to get one heck of a story.’ I replied darkly, lifting my head to meet Alistair’s gaze. ‘The only one spouting gibberish here is that man over there.’

Locking eyes with the king, I furiously glared at him. Silently daring him to try and suggest what he had on the battlements. My deathly stare was distracted by his regent Eamon Guerrin, who cleared his voice to the room.

‘To spare the council any wasted time, I will address the matter plainly and straight to the point.’ began Eamon, looking to the men and women around him. ‘It is of the royal council’s opinion that in order for Ferelden to continue to support the Inquisition, certain arrangements must be put place. It has been an issue long unattended by our former sovereign Queen Anora, but King Alistair is prepared to address this issue immediately.’. The regent tapped a finger on a towering pile of parchments before him on the table. ‘This is a brief compilation of what the kingdom has given to the Inquisition to aid in their fight. Let us be honest, over the last few years we have faced a situation where our people, our land and our resources now serve under two banners. Those being the kingdom of Ferelden, and the Inquisition.’

‘Something which we are most grateful for.’ added Cassandra appreciatively ‘Never would we be such a strong enemy against Corypheus without your continued support. We shall never forget that.’

Eamon nodded in reply, whilst Teagan and several members of the royal council frowned.

‘What the Inquisition Council must understand is that Ferelden finds itself in a position that is not easy for a kingdom to find itself in.’ observed Eamon sagely ‘It is not beneficial, or desirable, for a newly appointed king to share his role with another group. Especially not one as large as the Inquisition. At a time when King Alistair should be settling into his new role as monarch, he finds himself sharing that leadership with the Inquisition as his people flock to serve your cause. Naturally you can imagine this sends out a confused message in regards to loyalties, irrespective of how noble the cause is.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ asked Leliana brusquely ‘That the Inquisition is getting in the way of Alistair’s role as king? That we are demanding loyalty over Ferelden rulership?’

‘We can assure you that is not the case.’ informed the Seeker hastily.

‘We do not seek to undermine Alistair’s role in any shape or form.’ agreed Leliana ‘Our only mission has been to grow our numbers and allies in order to defeat Corypheus and his allies.’

‘That is the only goal we strive towards.’ agreed Cassandra, casting her eyes to Michel and Vivienne who also nodded in agreement. ‘Ser Michel isn’t that correct?’

The chevalier took a step closer to the table where a map of Thedas was carved into its surface. Tracing his finger along the Waking Sea, he meditated on the image before him before looking towards the royal council. ‘It is true there is much Inquisition influence south of the Waking Sea, across Ferelden and Orlais.’ observed Michel ‘We can understand your cause for concern, as Emperor Gaspard’s, when outsiders infiltrate your lands. However there is also a cause for relief. A silver lining, as we in Orlais would say. The Inquisition has managed to seal the many rifts that have been the source of great devastation across your kingdom. We have removed camps of red templars and the Venatori, and still we work to clear them from the south. One must weigh up the perceived threat and the actual benefit, with all respect intended King Alistair. The Inquisition only serves to benefit your kingdom, and the survival of Thedas.’

While Alistair appeared to agree with the sentiments of the chevalier, he also seemed unwavered from his initial point of view. Looking back to Leliana, the king’s face grew stern. ‘To answer your question, yes.’ answered Alistair shortly ‘The Inquisition, although unintentional, is too involved in Ferelden matters and is an obstacle in my ability to rule. The Inquisition takes too much from my kingdom. You have claimed fortresses, housing, mines, livestock, wild game, crops, and extensive properties all across Ferelden in the name of the Inquisition. Our minerals have been mined, our animals have been taken and our food claimed for your cause. It is too much.’

‘We have also taken away conflict between mages and templars that wreaked havoc across your land.’ informed the Commander sternly ‘Your people’s houses and crops were burned to the ground as they found themselves caught in the middle of a conflict they were not equipped to deal with. The Inquisition came in and resolved this. We clothed, fed and provided blankets for many in dire need. These people would have certainly perished during the winter months had it not been for our charity. All you need do is go to the Hinterlands to see all the good we have done for your kingdom.’

Teagan shook his head. ‘There is no dispute here that the Inquisition have aided Ferelden, however our people sacrifice everything to your cause. From their possessions, to their livelihood, to their way of life, to their very own lives. This is a great burden on our kingdom that continues for far too long. We cannot let this continue without some sort of security.’

‘Security?’ frowned Cullen, looking confused. ‘What, as in some sort of tariff?’

Alistair looked sternly at the Commander before meeting the eyes of all around the room. ‘No. We propose an alliance through marriage. In order to breach the gap between the Inquisition and Ferelden, and to maintain a wholeness in my kingdom. In order to achieve that I propose a betrothal with the Inquisitor.’

‘No way...’ whispered Varric, looking apprehensively towards me ‘The guy’s serious, isn’t he?’

‘What!?’ retorted Cullen sharply, appearing as if he had misheard the man. Taking several steps forward, Alistair’s council looked ready to defend the king. Leliana swiftly grabbed the arm of the Commander, silently encouraging him to stay put, but Cullen wrenched it away furiously. ‘You’ve acted like a spoiled little king for too long!’ shouted the Commander ‘To think you can come here and start making demands when we are the ones trying to save the blasted realm. It’s time to knock some sense into that block of yours.’

Teagan gave the man a flinty stare. ‘Commander Cullen, this is a meeting the Inquisition allowed us to conduct. You will keep this civil.’

Swiftly Michel stood in front of the Commander, raising his hands to placate him. ‘This is not the place to do this, Cullen.’ he murmured under his breath.

Shoving the Orlesian back, Cullen stood his ground. ‘Where should we do this then?’ he demanded ‘Wait until the damn idiot rips apart the Inquisition, and then say what’s what? This pleb needs to know that the Inquisitor is already engaged, although by the look on his face I suspect he already knew that long before now.’

Alistair looked unimpressed. ‘I had no knowledge of Ophelia’s engagement until we spoke just before.’

‘And yet you still demand that she marry you?’ chortled Cullen ‘Pathetic, utterly pathetic.’

‘Let me be the first to say I wholeheartedly reject this proposal.’ I interjected, looking angrily Alistair. ‘He has not mentioned the full proposal so I’ll put it as bluntly as is was put to me on the battlements. Either I marry Alistair or he will take away every bit of Ferelden away from the Inquisition.’

Cassandra, Vivienne and Leliana exchanged fearful looks.

‘You utter bastard!!’ yelled Cullen ‘Do not drag the Inquisition into your vendetta against me. We all know why you are doing this Alistair, and it has nothing to do with Ferelden. Ophelia has nothing to do with this, and if you were any sort of man you would come at me and not her.’

‘Like you did at Sierra?’ observed Alistair coldly, his words cutting into the silence of the room with a great deal of vehemence. ‘Some of us are capable of heinous acts, but I assure you Cullen I am not like you. I would never run a woman through in cold blood and leave her to die in the Orlesian swamp lands. My patience grows thin with you, Maker help me it does, and if you had any common sense you would keep quiet. My actions come only from a place of concern for my people and my lands.’

‘This is a purely political move, and one that was put forward to Alistair by the council.’ reassured Eamon ‘Commander Cullen, there is no other agenda here. I can personally assure you of that.’

Varric frowned, rubbing his stubble uneasily. ‘Now everyone, isn’t there some way around this? I mean if its security you’re after how about we ease up on the use of resources and stuff. Orlais could share the load a little more? Heck even Antiva and the Free Marches could pull their weight on this one? Those guys up north could do waaaaay more.’

Alistair shook his head. ‘It makes no difference, for what my people have given has already occurred. The council and I have discussed the many options in great detail and this is the only way that I can maintain a secure hold over my kingdom. My people must see that my Queen is the Inquisitor, and that their service to the Inquisition is in fact also tied to their kingdom. It is the only way you can justify asking so much of them. It is the only way I can see any relationship remaining between us and the Inquisition.’

The Seeker crossed her arms authoritatively, looking extremely troubled by the proposition. ‘We understand Ferelden has sacrificed a great deal but you must remember so too has our Inquisitor. She is not a bargaining chip, and neither would we make her one.’

‘And forgive me for being so brash, but surely there are more elegant and wealthy choices for a wife to be had?’ observed Vivienne, running her eyes up and down me doubtfully. ‘Ophelia is of a noble name but we all know she isn’t nobility. Definitely not the material of a queen.’

In any other situation I would have told the ambassador where to shove her judgemental observations, but they served my cause very well so I nodded animatedly. ‘It’s true, I would make a terrible Queen. That’s a promise.’

‘She would.’ confirmed Varric, flinging his hand at me as if I were some bizarre specimen being put on display in a carnival tent. ‘If she wasn’t the Inquisitor my guess is she’d be living off the streets in Kirkwall as a thief, know what I mean?’

Alistair’s blue eyes wandered over to me, silently watching as his council members spoke.

‘Naturally the king of Ferelden may marry any person that he chooses, however a noble birthright has always been preferred.’ observed a stout council member with a red beard ‘Ophelia Trevelyan is perfectly suited to fit the role of becoming the next Queen of Ferelden.’

‘Does free will come into the equation?’ muttered Varric.

Vivienne straightened her sleeves in irritation, rolling her eyes at the comment. ‘I could think of many worse fates than being forced to become the Queen of Ferelden.’

‘Fine you go marry him then.’ I suggested.

‘Don’t entertain this madness.’ scorned Cullen ‘The man is desperate, but I never thought he would drag his name and council through the dirt for it.’

‘We need to vote on this.’ announced Leliana, looking defiantly at the several members that threw her a disgusted look. She brushed her hands in a matter of fact way, as if the result of the vote was neither here nor there. ‘This is about the Inquisition and the survival of the realm. We must vote with that in mind. So I vote yes, Ophelia should marry Alistair.’

My anger now transformed into blinding rage. ‘Of course you would say that Leliana, there is no surprise there. It makes it a little easier for you if I’m out of the picture, doesn’t it?’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ frowned Teagan.

Leliana smiled, placing a gentle hand on her stomach. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything yet but I suppose the announcement should come now? Cullen and I are expecting a child together. Arl Teagan you must forgive Ophelia’s outburst, she’s been having a little difficulty adjusting to the reality of the situation.’

‘Ah shit.’ mumbled Varric. Running his hand to his neck defensively, he looked precariously over at me.

‘Are you serious?’ remarked Alistair, throwing a disgusted look to Cullen. ‘You proposed to Ophelia, and yet you are expecting a child with Leliana. Two women on the war council no less. You have the audacity to insult me and question my agenda, when yours is the most questionable of them all.’

‘Is this true?’ asked Cassandra in surprise, looking to Cullen and Leliana.

The Spymaster nodded, a pleased curl on her lip.

‘It doesn’t change a thing.’ Cullen growled, throwing Leliana a furious look. ‘Your timing, as always, is impeccable.’

The spymaster flung her hand to the onlookers. ‘They deserve to know the truth. We all should know what you’re willing to risk over one woman that isn’t even carrying your child!’

‘That’s because I love her, you damn fool!’ shouted Cullen.

Eamon cradled his temples, rubbing them tiredly. ‘This is getting out of control.’

‘Well I don’t see what the fuss is about, surely Cullen is going to marry Leliana now?’ observed Teagan plainly ‘Why are we all arguing?’

‘That would be the honourable thing to do.’ muttered Alistair.

‘Leliana you are poison.’ I hissed ‘Do you really think anyone cares that you carry another man’s child? It means nothing to any of us.’

The Spymaster laughed, shaking her head at me. ‘This is not personal Ophelia, only your naivety makes it appear that way. As Alistair said, his proposal is for the security of Ferelden. Considering all that the Inquisition asks of them, I can see why the royal council considers you a suitable match for the king. And considering all Ferelden has provided us, who are we to refuse one simple wedding?’

‘Leliana has voted yes,’ observed Teagan, standing assertively before the room ‘what does the rest of the war council say is the right cause of action?’

Teagan turned to the Seeker, who returned the look with fury.

‘You make me vote against my personal belief,’ informed Cassandra coldly ‘and that is not something I cannot forgive myself for doing.’. The Seeker’s posture wilted as she turned to me with a sad face. ‘I am sorry but I must decide what is best for the Inquisition. I vote yes. Ophelia should marry Alistair.’

‘Seeker are you insane!’ exclaimed Varric ‘Heck I could see why Nightingale would be keen to see the back of her, but you? Come on, it’s Sparrow we’re talking about here!’

‘We are voting for what is best for the Inquisition.’ observed Cassandra darkly ‘We cannot fight Corypheus without an army.’

‘It’s a fair request by Ferelden.’ added Leliana ‘They have never asked anything in return for their goodwill.’

Varric scoffed at the remark. ‘You think forcing Sparrow into a marriage with this guy is fair? What other fair deals are they going to throw our way in future days? And since when did the Inquisition make decisions that screw over their own? No way is this the right thing to do. I vote no. No fucking way!’

‘As do I.’ added Cullen angrily ‘I cannot begin to describe how insulting this is to Ophelia, and the rest of us here. Disgraceful, the lot of you.’

Vivienne sighed, realising it was her turn to vote. ‘As much as I feel for our Inquisitor and the position she finds herself in, at the end of the day I must consider why we are all here working in the Inquisition. It would be unfortunate to lose all that we have accomplished when a royal wedding could resolve everything. My vote is yes.’

‘Are you insane?!’ I exclaimed furiously ‘I don’t want to marry him. Isn’t that enough reason? Fine, here is my vote. No. Just no.’

‘Three are in favour of the union and three against,’ informed Leliana, turning to the Maister of Blades. ‘Ser Michel, yours is the deciding vote.’

My heart dropped as I looked to the chevalier, who refused to look into my eyes.

‘I have seen the devastation that has rampaged throughout the realm under the name of our enemies.’ observed Michel solemnly ‘The innocent have been slain, and no one will ever be the same again for it. I must consider that when making my vote. The threat of Corypheus is an issue that holds more importance over one marriage. My vote is yes, Ophelia should marry Alistair.’

Several cries of outrage came from Cullen, Varric and I.

‘Not you too Goldilocks?!’ protested Varric.

‘You fucking coward.’ roared Cullen, pushing past Varric to shove Michel hard in the breastplate. ‘Of all the snivelling turncoats in the realm you, chevalier, have to be the most repugnant of them all.’

Michel pushed Culled firmly back, a glint of anger in his eyes. ‘Perhaps you should put some your energy into attending to what is best for the Inquisition, and to the mother of your unborn child.’

‘Then the Inquisition has voted that Ophelia should accept the proposal and marry the King of Ferelden.’ announced Leliana quickly, a brilliant smile on her face. Her green eyes sparkled across the room, seemingly exuberant with the result.

‘Curse you Leliana, you can’t force me to marry Alistair.’ I yelled heatedly.

‘No one is forcing you,’ interjected Teagan, raising his hand to try and keep the peace ‘at the end of the day you must make that decision of your own volition. Please Ophelia, we ask for a union in the most respectful of ways.’

‘However we must insist that you must marry Alistair within the next month.’ warned Eamon ‘There is no negotiation on time, the wedding must occur immediately. It must be finalised as soon as possible.’

‘Don’t listen to this drivel.’ growled Cullen, grabbing my hand. ‘Come, we are leaving.’

Storming out of the war room, I could barely see what was before me. Everything was clouded in uncertainty, yet one thing was certain. My days as a prisoner were not over, and perhaps had only just begun?

****

Hastily Cullen pulled me along, through the hall and out into the courtyard. The residents looked on in surprise as they saw the pair of us, stony faced and flustered. Kicking loose gravel under our furious boots, we finally made it to his study. Securing the door, the Commander did not hesitate to clear the table of all its contents, his arm urgently pushing off books and candlesticks and an empty goblet. The items fell to the floor in a loud clatter, but the man was not concerned. Grabbing a map from the bookshelf, he unrolled it onto the table and began to carefully place markers on certain areas.

‘Cullen what are we going to do?’ I fretted. The conversation at the war room was beginning to sink in and so too was the fear of the reality before me. ‘Alistair and the council have gone insane.’

‘Two weeks to get there,’ he muttered, studying the map with intensity ‘and another three for the troops in the Western Approach. Another week, maybe two, to secure camp. It could take months to clear them out but no more than that. It would take it out of them, but it is not unreasonable…’

‘Are you even listening to me?’ I appealed.

His attention drew to me suddenly. ‘What?’

I needed Cullen to tell me he had a plan. Something. Anything. Just a way we could make everything all better. ‘What are we going to do?’

Pressing his finger against the map, Cullen frowned. ‘We march against Corypheus immediately. While you go with Alistair, I take our forces and destroy that old bastard before I have no army to do so. We are this close to being ready. It may take a few weeks to prepare the army but we could leave immediately the moment our equipment and weapons are ready. I can fight this battle, and come back for you when it is done.’

‘You cannot fight Corypheus alone.’ I protested ‘And what are saying? You want me to marry Alistair while you go to battle with the Elder One?!’

‘Of course I don’t want you marrying that pleb!’ retorted Cullen furiously ‘But you can bide your time with him while I use the army he threatens to take away. Appease the fool into thinking he can marry you, and meanwhile the Inquisition will venture to the Arbor Wilds and fight Corypheus once and for all.’

‘That will take months, and you heard the regent. He said I must marry Alistair within the next month. One month Cullen. One month.’

‘You can make something up.’ dismissed Cullen, drawing another map from his shelf ‘Pretend you’re sick. Or claim you have the jitters. Find some way to stall him.’

Shaking my head in disbelief, I was beginning to wonder whether Cullen too had gone mad. ‘There is no way that I am going with Alistair to Denerim! By the blazes, Cullen, you and I are to be married!’

‘Ophelia we cannot let the Inquisition fall,’ observed Cullen sternly ‘that is our main priority here. You must pretend at the very least to go along with this plan to give me some time. I need time, and as much of it as I can get.’

Looking horrified, I back away from the Commander. ‘Are you seriously saying I should go with Alistair?’

Cullen kicked the table in anger, cursing Alistair under his breath. ‘Of course I don’t want you to go but we have little choice. We cannot lose the Inquisition like this. You see that, don’t you? Please tell me you see that?’

‘Cullen I love you. Please, there has to be another way? Anything but that?’

The Commander moved around the table to wrap his arms feverishly around me. ‘Ophelia I swear I will let nothing bad happen to you. I love you and I will marry you. But you must pretend to go along with this plan for the sake of the Inquisition. I do not doubt Alistair in his threat. He will take away all that we have, including Skyhold. Our lives, everyone’s, will be ruined if this happens. You have little choice but to agree to their proposal if we are ever to be successful in destroying Corypheus. I will go and I will win this war against him, I swear it, but I need you to do your duty here.’

My duty. That quickly brushed over topic of agreeing to be another man’s wife.

The room was spinning and drowning me in a wave of sickening emotion. I ran from the study ignoring Cullen’s calls for me to return. Duty or not, I did not want to be taken to Denerim against my will.

Duty or not, it was beginning to be crystal clear that I had little choice.


	86. Wherever You Shall Go I Will Call You Home

_Solas had once, or more accurately often, provided me with some good advice. In the early days at Skyhold when we had first settled, the soldiers and mages had spent a fair amount of time patching up the thatch and fixing the deteriorating walls and damage throughout the keep. To add to our troubles, and to Madame Ruthie’s dismay, the rats had also found a way to get into the larder and lower kitchens. We were forced to remove all the food and furniture from the entire lower level of the keep in order to find the holes and seal them. Uncertain of the weather patterns, it was questionable whether it was safe to leave the food and utensils in the courtyard until the job was done. Yet the entire larder needed to be checked room by room, and all food examined for contamination. A travelling merchant in the courtyard assured us that no rain fell at that time of year, and trusting his advice we decided to unload the contents into the lower courtyard by the stables. By mid-afternoon a wild wind had roared through and with it a storm that rained heavily on the exposed sacks of grain and barrels of fresh produce. To our devastation we lost much of the food to rot. It was Solas who came by later, as we miserably inspected the damage, and bestowed his words of wisdom. He told me plainly; don’t base your decisions on the advice of those who don’t have to deal with the results._

_I recall at the time silently cursing the elf for not relaying that titbit of wisdom before we had taken the advice of the merchant. However now I could appreciate his words a little better. No one in the Inquisition was about to marry Alistair against their will, except for me. Therefore I would not be taking any advice on the matter. Perhaps this would be seen selfish in the eyes of many, but I was not about to be shipped off at the expense of the Inquisition. I was ready to tell the council my answer was no._

Arriving back at the war room, I was thankful to see Alistair and his royal party had since departed. Meanwhile Cassandra and Leliana were deep in serious discussion with hushed voices. They paused their conversation as they heard me enter the room, looking towards me swiftly.

‘Inquisitor, is everything alright?’ asked Cassandra ‘Let me be the first to say this request from Ferelden is unexpected and unfortunate. We all wish there could be another way.’

Crossing my arms, I remained at the door. ‘You speak as if I am packed and ready to go. I told you all before, I’m not doing it.’

Leliana flung her hand towards me, rolling her eyes. ‘See?’ she murmured to Cassandra ‘This is the loose cannon that’s going to destroy everything we have been working for.’

‘I’m also the loose cannon that saved you all from being obliterated by Corypheus and his dragon at Haven.’ I observed icily ‘The loose cannon that carries the mark and seals rifts, and seeks nothing but to serve the Inquisition.’

‘Then serve it.’ replied Leliana callously.

It took all my willpower not to cast a fireball at the spymaster and try to warm that frosty disposition. ‘You have to stop Cullen before he kills himself.’ I informed Cassandra ‘He’s about to charge into the Arbor Wilds. If we don’t stop this nonsense he’s going to leave as soon as he can with the entire army. Irrespective of my decision, Cullen is quite likely marching to his death if he isn’t careful. He’s acting with emotion, and we all know that’s not the best hand to play. And he isn’t being careful, he is rushing this decision because of me.’

‘Well then it would be obvious what you must do?’ observed Leliana impatiently ‘You have the power to defuse the situation, and yet instead you run around the keep like a headless chicken, throwing tantrums about how you won’t marry a king? Poor you Ophelia, how our hearts bleed.’

‘We know it is more complicated than that.’ frowned Cassandra.

‘Yes that’s one way of putting it.’ I scoffed ‘Of course need I say Leliana here has her own agenda?’

The Seeker appeared stressed, anxiously pulling loose strands of her brown hair behind her ear. ‘We cannot lose all that we have now. Especially not now. Cullen is correct in wanting to take our forces to the Arbor Wilds while we still have a chance. It was our next move, and one that Alistair now threatens to destroy. We may never get another chance like this again.’

Casting a crisp look at me, Leliana nodded. ‘You have two options before you.’ she informed calmly ‘There is no agenda on my part, that is a fact. There are only two options before you that will result in two different results. One, you refuse Alistair and the Inquisition falls to pieces. Nearly all of our numbers will disband, Skyhold will be taken away from us, and the realm will face inevitable destruction when Corypheus learns we are defenceless. Yes you will be free to be with Cullen, but there will be no realm in which to play happily ever after with him. Our close victory at ending all of this will be crushed, and many many lives will be lost. All of which will be on your hands, and yours alone.’

Cassandra frowned but remained quiet, as if she agreed with the prediction.

‘The other option is to marry Alistair and bring stability to Ferelden.’ continued Leliana in a lighter voice ‘The people will rejoice and support the Inquisition even more, with the Inquisitor as their new Queen, and we stand an even greater chance of succeeding in our cause. Our numbers will improve, as too will our morale. You will not be able to marry Cullen, this is true. But perhaps, considering he is about to have a child with me, that is for the best? You will always come second and you know this. That is what happens when a man becomes a father.’

‘Leliana I don’t know you well but I know you well enough.’ I scorned ‘The words that flow from your mouth are crooked and cunning. We all know that all you want is Cullen. That is the only thing you care about.’

Leliana appeared amused, looking over to Cassandra with a chuckle. ‘Well I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, eh Cassandra? Through blood, sweat and tears I singlehandedly created the Inquisition, but the jokes on you all because apparently it was just a ploy to get Cullen.’

Cassandra sighed. ‘Ophelia you must know how important the Inquisition is to Leliana and I?’

Shaking my head, I knew Cassandra was blinded by who Leliana truly was. ‘Look at her smirking away there as if she’s just won the end of the week raffle. Our dear Spymaster is delighted to finally have me away from Cullen.’

‘Really?’ smirked Leliana ‘Is that what you think? Did it ever occur to you that having the child of a man who obsesses over another woman is not what I pictured as my ideal partner? Cullen and I share an unbreakable bond, but I would not think a moment on throwing it all away for the sake of saving the realm from Corypheus. No person is worth that. Not even Cullen.’

Cassandra nodded. ‘This has been what it is all about. You see this, don’t you? The Inquisition must destroy Corypheus.’

‘You have done nothing but use me from the moment we met.’ I observed angrily ‘My first memory after the conclave was being shackled in a cell with the both of you treating me as a murderer. The only reason you kept me around was because of this.’. I held my hand up, that was charging angrily with electricity. ‘Suddenly I became something you could use. A puppet to your cause. That tells me more about you both than your claims of sacrifice for the greater good.’

‘Life is unfair Ophelia, that is the way of it.’ informed Cassandra sternly ‘We have all sacrificed much to be here, and we cannot let that be for nothing. If you refuse Alistair, the Inquisition will have to start over again. We will have nowhere to go and will be defenceless. I will be forced to find another Commander of the Inquisition, for Cullen has shown too often that his interest is clearly for you over the cause. You may be Inquisitor, but Cullen will no longer remain here. He will most likely join his Templar Order in the Western Approach, and you and he still will not be together.’

‘Then I will go with him to where he goes.’ I retorted, completely in disbelief that Cassandra was admitting she was happy to send me away to Denerim.

Leliana raised a brow. ‘You would forsake the Inquisition entirely then? For what? To join the templar Order as they re-establish their duties as guardians of the mages? How long will it be before your freedom is slowly drawn away from you by all those around you? Perhaps you will be with Cullen, but you will be contained by the templars that you have desperately tried to escape all your life.’

‘Cullen is the head of the Order, not the Order itself.’ agreed Cassandra ‘He has no choice but to uphold what the templar’s are trained to do.’

‘You know that Cullen has had feelings for me in the past, whatever he claims now.’ added Leliana ‘That is why I am carrying his child. You have a chance to do the right thing and let Cullen, me and this baby start a life together as a family. Do you really want to take that away from a child?’

Looking between Cassandra and Leliana, I knew that any chance of appealing to them was hopeless.

‘After all that I have done, this is the way you both treat me.’ I laughed bitterly, turning away.

Storming furiously out of the room, I knew I had one person left that might be able to help. If that didn’t work, I was officially on my own.

****

Alistair pulled on his riding gloves in silence, not desiring to speak about the recent events to the several knights readying the horses beside him. All he wished to do was settle in bed for a good night’s rest, but he suspected there was no guest room awaiting him at Skyhold that evening. His attention caught sight of the Maister of Blades approaching from the stairs leading down from the kitchens. Alistair nodded at the Orlesian, waiting for the inevitable onslaught that would spill from the chevalier’s mouth.

‘Do you remember that backbiter warden from the Anderfels that we used to play cards against back in Adamant?’ asked Alistair ‘He’d always pretend to be your best friend and the moment you looked away he was making up the worst stories about you imaginable?’

Michel nodded, recalling the man. ‘Jeldon of Nordbotten.’

Clicking his fingers, Alistair nodded. ‘That’s the one. Well that’s who I feel like at the moment. Jeldon. Friends to everyone, but oh no sorry you were all mistaken. Actually I’m a rather large jerk who screws everyone over to suit my own agenda.’

The chevalier appeared unconvinced at the harsh assessment. ‘Jeldon deceived people because he was of a questionable nature.’ observed Michel, shaking his head. ‘You are far from that person. Well apart from being terrible at Wicked Grace, just like he was.’

Alistair chuckled. ‘Stop making me laugh, it’s the last thing I should be doing right now.’. The king sighed heavily. ‘I know why you’ve come here. My friend, I apologise. I really really do. I know you were in love with her, and this feels more of a betrayal to you than it does to Cullen. The man is shocking, I don’t believe there could be love there for anyone else but himself. But you? Now that I can believe.’

Michel nodded, his blue eyes darting around the area to ensure they were speaking in private. Master Dennet was busy attending three new elks that had arrived, and the rest of the royal party were preparing their mounts from afar.

‘Alistair I do love Ophelia, you are correct.’ acknowledged the chevalier ‘However I also know that Ophelia being with Cullen was the worst fate she could have faced. She was going to marry him and you have been able to stop what I had failed to do. If Ophelia marrying you saves her from that life, as much at it pains me, you have my unconditional blessing.’

Alistair dropped the flap of his pack in surprise. ‘I…I don’t know what to say? You possess the selfless love of a good man, Michel. What I do, I do for Ferelden…but it makes me feel sad where you are concerned. Every man should be given the chance to love.’

‘And I did for a short while. At least I got that.’ acknowledge Michel poignantly ‘It is more than some people get in their lives.’

‘Now that is something we can both agree on.’ murmured Alistair, looking tragically sad.

The Orlesian shrugged, rubbing his blonde hair. ‘Sometimes you can find comfort in the strangest of circumstances. You will get a new wife with a good heart, which is a blessing for you. You will treat Ophelia well, I know that. That is all I can ask for and so I must be content.’

Despite his reflections Michel did not look content, and no happiness presented on his face. Alistair could see this, and it made him all the more sadder.

‘And for that you have my word I will treat Ophelia very well.’ agreed Alistair, patting the Orlesian on the arm ‘You have my word.’

The chevalier nodded. ‘Thank you. Also there is something else.’ informed Michel ‘Many months ago I made a promise to Ophelia. I swore to be her champion, as I was to Empress Celene. Call it what you will, it is the role of a personal protector. Alistair, I would ask that you allow me to continue this role. Let me come with Ophelia and serve you and your kingdom in Denerim. This is my wish, and I have given it a great deal of thought.’

‘Ophelia hasn’t even agreed to marry me.’ pointed out Alistair, continuing to secure his pack. ‘From the reception in the war room I would guess she isn’t going to.’

Michel frowned. ‘We must not forget how much of a change this is to her plans for the future. She will accept however, you need not fear. Ophelia will not choose her own happiness over the fate of so many, no matter how much it pains her.’

‘And if you are right, then you wish to leave the Inquisition?’ remarked Alistair in surprise ‘You? The one that so many look up to? The Maister of Blades and second in Command?’

Michel ran his eyes around the stables, as if silently confessing to the king what was more than apparent. ‘It is a title Alistair, like many that I have. Titles mean nothing if there is no purpose behind it. You know the role that I have here. To work for a man I think we can both agree is not someone pleasant to work for.’

‘That being a massive understatement.’ observed Alistair sourly ‘The man is a demon.’

‘Even if I desired to make a difference here, there is little chance of me being able to now.’ continued Michel ‘There is nothing left for me here, and I would better serve a king that I respect than a Commander that I do not.’

Alistair shook his head. ‘You misunderstand my intention. I do not wish to take Ophelia away from Skyhold. Ophelia will always be the Inquisitor-’

‘-yet she will first become your wife.’ interjected Michel, looking as if he all too well understood what Alistair was required to do. What he had to do. ‘Let Ophelia have one familiar face to be with her during that time. It may ease the situation she now finds herself in. And I in turn vow not to get in the way of your marriage with Ophelia. I will serve you, and her, as my own king and queen. I swear to you upon my honour.’

‘Then I accept.’ agreed Alistair, a fond smile on growing on his face. ‘You are a good friend and one of the best warriors in Thedas. It would be my honour if you would serve me and my kingdom.’

Michel bowed low and respectfully. ‘Thank you Your Majesty.’

****

Jumping down the stairs two and then three at a time, I dashed to the lower part of the keep where The Cock and Bull resided. The place was empty and Varric was slouched over the bar, drinking shots from a cloudy bottle covered in dust. He turned to see me approaching and threw me a pitied look.

‘Ah shit Sparrow, I’m sorry how this has all turned out.’ muttered Varric, grabbing another shot glass and pouring a drink. He pushed it towards me with a nod. ‘Drink. Drink a lot. Drink until the memory of this damn day burns away.’

‘There better be a plan at the bottom of that drink because I’m not understanding why everyone is giving up and allowing me to be sold off to the king of Ferelden.’ I replied irritably ‘Tell me you have a plan Varric?’

Rubbing his eyes, the dwarf shook his head. ‘Sparrow you know I’d rather dance the hempen jig than forsake one of my mates. Heck I’ve been thinking this whole thing through and through. I voted no. But…’. Varric sighed, taking another sharp shot. ‘You’re gonna hate me for saying this but the Seeker has a point. At the end of the day we need the Inquisition to defeat Corypheus. None of this amounts to anything if Alistair pulls his support. We need to keep him happy.’

‘You mean I need to keep him happy.’ I snapped ‘Me. No one else is being forced to go marry him, so that’s just great. See you later Ophelia, all the best. Fuck!’. Grabbing a shot from the table, I down it quickly and winced in the aftermath. ‘Does no one have a plan?’

‘I do.’ called out a voice.

Michel stood at the entrance of the tavern, looking at me seriously.

‘You voted yes.’ I accused angrily ‘Pardon me for not wanting to hear any plan that comes out of your mouth at the moment.’

‘Yeah Goldilocks, what was that about?’ encouraged Varric, looking relieved that my annoyance was now being directed elsewhere.

Michel drew up a barstool beside me, his blue eyes looking intently into mine as he sat. ‘I did so because I needed to gain Alistair’s trust.’ he confessed ‘Of course I don’t want you being forced to marry him, no more than I wish you to be marrying Cullen. But you are going to need someone in your court, literally, when you ride out to Denerim.’

‘But I don’t-’

‘You do not wish to go, I know mon cherie.’ nodded Michel sympathetically, throwing me a sad smile ‘I know. I wish you didn’t, but you see what will happen if you do not? I have asked Alistair to allow me to continue to act as your protector, your champion, at the palace while you are there. You will have me there with you and I swear we will find a way to get you out of this terrible situation. You will not be alone Ophelia, I promise.’

Varric looked suitably impressed. ‘The chevalier rides out with the Queen-to-be with a plan to save her from the wicked king. Well I’ll be damned Goldilocks, you just stole my roguish heart.’

‘Alistair is not a wicked king, we can all see too well that this plan of his makes a lot of sense from his position.’ observed Michel ‘The problem is I care for the woman he intends to take as his bride, and whether it be seen as honourable or dishonourable I will not abandon you Ophelia. I will not let you wander this path alone.’

It was too much. Having this man sit before me, valiant and pure of heart, with a promise to stay by my side. And what had I ever done to deserve it? Forsaken him and left him with a broken heart. Wrapping my arms around chevalier, I embraced the man tight.

‘Thank you.’ I sobbed, unable to supress the tears ‘Honestly…just…thank you so much Michel.’

Whether it was true or not I felt like everyone had either given up or abandoned me to my new fate…except for Michel. 

‘_Abelas, tel’enfenim, da’len._ ” whispered Michel, holding me against his chest ‘_Irassal ma ghilas ara ma’athlan vhenas._ Do not lose hope yet,_ emm’asha.’_

‘I don’t know what that means.’ I laughed, drawing back from the man with puffy eyes.

Michel threw me a small smile, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb. ‘It means;_ I am sorry, never fear little one. Wherever you shall go I will call you home_.’

Varric drank another shot, trying to conceal the warm smile growing on his face.

‘Do you promise that you won’t abandon me?’ I appealed, sniffing back the tears ‘There is no one else who has promised that but you Michel.’

He lowered his blonde head, steel gauntlet placed across his breast. A silent pledge of honour from a knight, and one I knew he would never break. His blue eyes lifted into mine.

‘You do not need anyone else,’ he reassured ‘I will never abandon you.’

‘Then I know what I must do.’ I remarked quietly, standing up from my seat.

‘A drink?’ suggested Varric, shaking the cloudy bottle.

‘Something like that.’ I muttered.

Grabbing the bottle from his hand I turned and walked onwards. Despite everything in my heart telling me not to, it was time to pack my satchel and ready myself for a new journey.


	87. Bitter Aftermath

Black robes dragging along the polished wooden floorboards, the mage made his way through the empty castle. The fading sunlight of a late afternoon trickled in through the windows as he made his way through the long hallways to the location where the guards had directed him, off the eastern wing. There was no shortage of sitting parlours, guest chambers, libraries and studies, and after passing through several or more twisting wooden corridors he was suitable tired. Not that he minded. After two days of travel the mage was pleased to be finally off the mountain and in the midst of civilisation once more.

Jowan looked around the empty passage, the portraits of various monarchs glaring down at him with an air of disdain, as if they were well aware of the misdeeds he had committed in prior days and were displeased he now roamed freely in their castle. Pasty faces, sullen pouts and high collars, he wondered why such well-off people looked so decidedly unhappy. Then again, the poor didn’t seem to be any happier either? With a shrug his brown eyes diverted from their faces, turning his attention further down the hall to where a silhouette of a man rested by the window, exactly where the guards had told Jowan he would be. As Jowan approached he could see the man’s blonde hair was tied back in a neat longish ponytail that rested at the base of his neck and he wore a fine cream tunic that looked even more distinguished than his usual attire. Although Jowan could not see the man’s face, he was under no question of who the keeper of such golden hair and fineries was.

‘Ser Michel.’ called out Jowan pleasantly, nodding his head in acknowledgement as the knight turned in surprise.

Michel de Chevin appeared well lost in his thoughts and completely unaware that Jowan was even in the same room until that very moment. He sprung up from his resting position and straightened his tunic promptly, pulling back a loose strand of hair behind his ear in a proper manner. The Orlesian looked in good health, and still held that bright smile that he always seemed to carry.

‘Jowan!’ remarked Michel, extending his hand to shake the mages. ‘Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere.’. The knight clasped his hand warmly. ‘Mark my words it has been some time, has it not? Welcome to Denerim Palace. Did you have a good journey?’

Taken aback by the pleasant greeting, Jowan was rendered a little speechless in the moment. After all that he had done to Michel in the past, the knight still welcomed him with an air of civility that was certainly not required, or deserved. Jowan’s cold hand gripped the warmth of the Orlesian’s and remained connected for several shakes.

‘Thank you, it was a pleasant journey. It is good to see you once again.’ replied Jowan, his eyes darting around the opulent surroundings ‘I must say, you certainly choose a good place to relocate to? This castle is as impressive as I imagined it to be.’

Michel weighed up the observation pensively. ‘Castles always appear impressive but tend to be extremely cold, dark and draughty places, full of shadows and gossip. Denerim Palace is not so bad. Not as grand as the Winter Palace, but there is more peace here. And more mabaris.’

Jowan chuckled. ‘I suppose you were spared the Ferelden obsession of mabaris up in Skyhold. They are well loved here, we even had several living with us in the tower when I was a mage apprentice.’

‘Yes I noticed the king’s dogs roam the castle freely.’ observed Michel, sounding a little unimpressed. ‘I found one sitting on my bed chewing my coat the other day. Apart from that, my stay here has been quite uneventful. It is a pleasant change.’

‘King Alistair isn’t working you to the bone like Cullen did in Skyhold then?’ asked Jowan sarcastically.

‘No I haven’t been appointed as whipping boy to a Commander, if that’s what you mean?’ chuckled Michel ‘King Alistair has been extremely hospitable and allowed me to do as I wish. I feel more like a friend of royalty here than a man of service, I suppose it will take some getting used to. How goes the Inquisition? Is it still running strong?’

The mage rolled his eyes, replying only with a cynical chuckle.

‘Is that that bad?’ inquired Michel, looking surprised.

‘Things have changed a little since the defeat of Corypheus.’ observed Jowan, running his eyes across the view behind his companion. The window looked out onto a courtyard with a pumpkin patch, a somewhat strange sight to see from a large castle viewing window. ‘Many have departed. Cole has left for Nevarra, Dorian to Antiva, Sera to Kirkwall, and Vivienne to Orlais. Cassandra remains for now, and Varric has decided to stay and keep on running The Cock and Bull while the coin keeps coming in.’

‘Naturally.’ smiled Michel.

‘Blackwall desires to leave soon, or escape, I’m not certain even he knows where.’ continued the mage ‘And most of the residents have already left for their homes. The people that remain seem resided on staying forever. In all honestly Skyhold is a bit of a shambles at the moment.’

‘You can hardly blame the residents for being so eager to return home after being so long away in such an isolated part of the realm.’ pointed out Michel ‘What an adventure so many have had! They would be desperate to return home as heroes, and so should they!’

Jowan nodded in agreement. ‘To those fortune to have a home to return to, I suppose so. To my surprise most of the mages have remained at the keep, and even now our numbers grow! We received a dozen new mages from the Free Marches the other week, all eager to join the Mage Order. It is a sight I wish Ophelia could have seen. Mind you, we mages try to keep out of the daily Inquisition business. The Inquisition is still running, somewhat. I’d rather stay away from the drama to be honest.’

‘I would have thought now that peace has returned to Thedas the Frostback Mountains would be a great deal warmer place to be these days.’ observed Michel with a grin ‘Yet you speak of it as I would have in former days.’

‘You thought incorrectly.’ replied Jowan, amused at the comment of the knight. ‘Tell me Michel, when was the last time you were at Skyhold? Six months?’

‘Eight months and thirteen days,’ corrected the knight, a grin on his face ‘and I’ve never felt happier for it in all my life.’

Jowan glared at the knight, a curl on his lips. ‘You crow too loud for my liking Maister. Remember some of us still remain stuck up there, whether we like it or not. In the eyes of Thedas, the Inquisition has served its purpose. Corypheus may now be dead and his army destroyed but for some reason the Inquisition remains somewhat disliked in the realm.’

Michel chuckled. ‘Is that so? I can’t say I’m surprised with the current leaders at Skyhold. Cullen is still running the show, yes?’

‘Of course he is, along with our glorious Divine.’ muttered Jowan ‘The Inquisition is a pebble in Thedas’ shoe. Antiva and Nevarra do not wish to acknowledge us, Orlais sees us as a nuisance, Tevinter is of the view that we are a rebel cause now, and your king here desires us gone altogether. I’m surprised we are still welcome on top of his mountain considering we’ve long outstayed his welcome.’

‘I suspect Ferelden’s civility has something to do with an impending event in days to come.’ replied Michel a little more stiffly ‘Unions will do that. You can thank the Inquisitor that the Inquisition still has a roof over their head.’

Jowan pursed his lips, knowing all too well what Michel was implying. ‘How is Ophelia?’ he asked solemnly ‘I confess that is why I have come to seek you out now so soon after my arrival here. Ophelia was not there to greet our party at the gates.’

‘It’s understandable considering what you all come here for.’ observed Michel.

‘She refuses to write to Skyhold. Or indeed return any of my letters.’ continued Jowan ‘Indeed her memory seems the only thing that lingers of her actual presence in the keep. It as if the Inquisitor has disappeared altogether. There have been many rumours circulating that she was actually struck down by Corypheus at the final battle and we are now covering it up. Like we have nothing better to do.’

‘She will not return to Skyhold, I am certain of that. It’s not personal.’ reassured Michel, appearing troubled. ‘You must understand that that battle with Corypheus took it out of all of us. I think I slept for a month after we returned from that fight. We have all been surrounded by a lot of death and suffering. Time is needed to heal. I would encourage you not to take any of her actions personally. Ophelia does not write to anyone, and accepts no visitors. Not that there has been anyone to visit her.’

‘I wanted to on several occasions but felt it unwise to venture into Denerim by myself…considering my past dealings in Ferelden.’ explained Jowan, looking a tad guilty.

Sighing, the knight turned to look out the large window once more. ‘At a time when she should be able to start her life afresh she finds herself here. None of us imagined Ophelia and I would be living in Denerim Palace after the Inquisition was over.’

‘You sacrifice a lot to be with her.’ acknowledged Jowan ‘I would have thought you would have left for Orlais now? Picked up the pieces of your old life again?’

‘Orlais isn’t going anywhere.’ muttered Michel ‘Gaspard has left an open offer for me to return to his court, and truth be told he is pleased to have me so close to the King of Ferelden. It makes relationships between neighbouring empires a lot easier that way.’

Jowan raised a brow, unconvinced that they were the only reasons Michel remained in Denerim.

‘Of course I stay because of Ophelia.’ added Michel with a knowing nod ‘You would do the same for love.’

Jowan crossed his arms, appearing to disagree. ‘Michel we may not be friends but I’m going to say it anyway. Out of concern I feel I need to. Why stay here for someone that does not love you as you do her? Why not go and find someone who is more….deserving?’

Michel went silent, turning away from the man. ‘Because even if I did find another, they would not be Ophelia.’ he replied quietly ‘Have you never been in love with someone before? It is not something you can replace with another person.’

‘After Lily I have resided never fall in love again.’ replied Jowan darkly ‘I would not wish to feel that again for anyone. Nor could it ever be replicated.’

The knight turned back to his companion. ‘Then you understand where I am coming from. My love cannot be replaced. I’m certain Ophelia feels the same. We manage our broken hearts as best we can. She cannot be with Cullen, and sadly for me I cannot be without her. It is a hopeless case to be certain.’

The mage threw a sympathetic look to the knight. ‘Life has its ups and downs.’

‘After the death of my wife I shut myself away as Ophelia does now.’ observed Michel poignantly ‘Cullen may be alive but she has lost him. There is a grief that comes with losing people we care about. Perhaps the silence is the only thing that lets us heal, and faith that better days are to come.’

‘I don’t think you ever get over that.’ remarked Jowan quietly, all too aware of his own grief over one he had loved but now was long dead. ‘That aside, I was sad to not see Ophelia return to Skyhold. And neither of you returned for the festivities? The Inquisition celebrated in the keep for weeks and yet without an Inquisitor to join in it seemed rather lachrymose.’

The knight sighed, his face revealing an unspoken burden that he had endured for months now. ‘She aided the Inquisition in destroying Corypheus. She did her duty. She continues to do her duty. I fear for her there is little pleasure in it, even in victory.’

‘You yourself were quite missed by the soldiers.’ observed Jowan a little more brightly ‘You should know that. Varric recounted heroic tales of your part in defeating Corypheus. He says that you battled a red lyrium dragon and delivered the final blow. Such an impressive feat! The soldiers desperately wanted to celebrate with you.’

Michel smiled, nodding at the thought of them. ‘That many returned alive is enough celebration for me. It crossed my mind to return but I cannot say I was eager to see the Commander or Leliana. I stayed here out of loyalty to Ophelia. I could not in good faith celebrate while she finds herself kept bound to duty even after Corypheus is defeated.’

Jowan shook his head angrily. ‘I wish it were different for her.’

‘Not as much as I.’ replied Michel rigidly ‘I have watched over Ophelia here for months now, slowly sinking further and further into a sadness that I have not been able to rouse her from. She resides to her fate and has little interest in anything else. That makes it even more woeful. She stays in her room most days, keeping the world out. Keeping everyone out.’. The Orlesian grew quiet, his blue eyes turning back to the view outside the castle, to conceal a pain they held. ‘I promised her she would not have to marry Alistair. But how? Tell me Jowan, how? For I have considered every possible option for months and still I have nothing besides urging her to flee in the night. Call me a fool but I thought Cullen would have come before now. After Corypheus was defeated I was certain…but no. I was wrong. Why has Cullen not come for her? He hardly respects Alistair’s wishes, and yet still he has not come?’

‘Life is complicated Michel, you and I of all people should know that.’ observed the mage. Jowan’s face grew long. ‘For her sake I would encourage you to keep Ophelia from Skyhold. Many have left the keep to return to their old lives but some have stayed behind. Leliana remains there with the Commander, and from what I have seen they have…reconciled. I have no doubt the child in her belly has something to do with it. Any day now she will give birth.’

Michel scoffed, shaking his head at the new information. ‘So they’re together again, there’s a surprise. Even if I had the heart to tell Ophelia, I fear now what it would do to her. She has resided to the fact that her future is here, but we all know there is a lingering hope that Cullen remains faithfully hers and hers alone. Who am I to crush what little spirit she has left?’

‘False hope can be a far greater cruelty.’ replied Jowan coldly.

Lifting his blue eyes to the mage, Michel looked surprised at the hostile comment.

Jowan waved his hand apologetically. ‘Forgive me, there are other things weighing heavily on my mind at the moment.’

Michel clasped the mage on the shoulder, passing him slowly. ‘I must go attend to some matters. Shall I see you at dinner this evening?’

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ replied Jowan unenthusiastically ‘The Iron Bull, Cassandra, Blackwall and I will all be there on behalf of the Inquisition. Why we decided to stay and torture ourselves at the keep I never know. Like one big happy family these days.’

The knight nodded. ‘Remember it could be worse? Cullen could have come and shown his support.’

Jowan rolled his eyes ‘Who’s to say he didn’t try.’

Michel looked gobsmacked. ‘Surely he would not have dared to show his face?’

‘There was some mention of it.’ answered the mage tiredly ‘A suggestion quickly quashed by the Divine, don’t you worry about that. Not that I am privy to their squabbles, but the pair screaming at each other on the battlements afforded us all front row seats to that disagreement. Between you and me Michel, if Cullen deserved punishment for his actions he is receiving it right now. I would not wish my worst enemy to be so entwined in the web of that red back.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be the loyal Left Hand?’ observed Michel, looking amused and somewhat pleased at Jowan’s brutal assessment of his mistress.

‘Loyalty does not equate to admiration, Michel.’ muttered Jowan ‘You used to serve the Inquisition, surely you haven’t forgotten that?’

Michel sighed. ‘Yes I remember all too well.’

Exchanging knowing smirks the mage and knight turned to head off down the hallway. Far from being friends, but finally reaching a mutual understanding.

****

Knight Commander Rylen,

I hope this letter finds you and the Order well.

In regards to your question of my return, I shall not be regrouping with the Templar Order until after the birth of my child. At present I intend to continue to run the Inquisition at Skyhold until it is officially disbanded. From what I predict, this will happen soon enough.

In regards to the matter of relocating the Order to the Frostback Mountains, I have decided the request would better come in writing from your hand. I fear any favours asked from me directly to the King of Ferelden would be rejected on the spot. My hope is the impending matrimony of the King of Ferelden will make matters regarding Skyhold a little more easy to address. We must remember the king was once a templar and he knows Ferelden remains without a Templar order at present. I fear there is little chance of regaining Ostagar, but there may be a chance to regroup here. We must be patient.

Maker willing we may find our Order relocated to Skyhold before the year is over. I shall send further word when more is known on matter.

Sincerely,

Knight-Commander Cullen

Wincing, the templar grabbed his arm painfully as he placed down the quill. A long sword blade had almost run clean through his left shoulder during the final battle of the red templars in the Arbour Wilds. Never had he recalled a wound hurting as much as it had, and even months later it caused Cullen a great deal of trouble. While the wound had begun to heal and full function of his arm slowly returned, the physical and mental pain unfortunately remained. The brutality of battle had never been more apparent than when one was in the thick of it, knee deep in corpses and blood. It was there that the Commander and his soldiers of the Inquisition had slain their way through to the final encampment of Corypheus. If it were not for the numbers on their side they would have died in that murky forest. And many did die, from both sides, although the Inquisition were the final victors.

In the early hours of dawn on the third week in the wilds, Cullen recalled standing knee deep in a bog fighting a red templar when he heard the Inquisition horns sounding across the mist. They had won the battle and defeated the last of the army of Corypheus. They had won. In victory, the Commander left with an injured arm and the wounded by his side. The dead lay in their watery graves and the living were ever changed. Blood tainted their armour, and in their hearts an echo of evil remained.

Perhaps there was never a way to remove the horror that war brought.

Returning to Skyhold messengers alerted Cullen to the unexpected defeat of Corypheus by the Inquisitor and several of her companions, who were called to battle by an unexpected appearance of the Elder One tearing open the sky. The Commander could barely comprehend what was being said for in the wilds there had been no word of what was happening outside of the trees. The last he had seen Ophelia was when she had left Skyhold for Denerim to marry Alistair. Cullen had immediately departed to fight the last of the red army in the Arbour Wilds, expecting Ophelia to have stayed away from the danger. His fear for her safety was now one of immense relief. It was finally over. And they had all survived.

Such things were a blessing and a curse.

The Commander and his army arrived back at Skyhold to a celebration of the likes to which he had never seen. The Inquisition had saved Thedas and they were all heroes. While all around him cheered and packed their bags for home, Cullen remained sombre and steadfast to the keep. It was Varric who recounted the final battle with Corypheus, for he and Bianca had been there fighting with Ophelia. It was Varric who informed Cullen that after the defeat of the Elder One, Ophelia had decided to return directly to Denerim rather than return to Skyhold. And it was Varric who explained in no uncertain terms that her decision was directly related to recent events involving her removal from Skyhold in order to be married off to the King of Ferelden. As Varric put it bluntly, if anyone was going to hold a grudge against the Inquisition it was going to be the Inquisitor.

Shoving his hand into his pocket, the Commander pulled out a necklace with a green emerald. Ophelia had returned the item to him, leaving it on his desk before she departed for Denerim and it had remained close to him ever since. Running his finger across the stone, that seemed to flash wildly even in the dim candlelight of night, the templar meditated on the piece in silence.

Ophelia….

He missed her so much. Maker how he wanted her by his side once more. He wanted his fiancé. Yet Cullen knew he did not have the right to call her that anymore. Not when Alistair claimed the title himself. To make matters worse there was nothing the Commander could do about it. Cullen was well aware the only reason they all remained alive and victorious was because of Ferelden’s aid. If Alistair had pulled away his support then Cullen and Ophelia, and the remaining Inquisition, would now most likely be dead. In light of this, the Commander knew he was forced to honour that terrible marriage agreement, and yet every spare moment he found himself thinking about breaking it. All he wanted was her. That is all he ever wanted. And as the months passed by the desire within him grew deeper, and the yearning grew stronger. And there was nothing he could do.

Clenching the necklace hard in his fist, the Commander frowned.

‘Enough.’ he muttered, shoving the stone into his desk draw.

Whatever he felt in his heart he could hide away, just as he would that necklace. In the late hours of night perhaps it would haunt him as it did now, but he would endure it.

Life goes on, and so would he.

A knocking on the door distracted the Commander’s thoughts, and quickly he closed the draw to his desk.

‘Enter.’ Cullen called our gruffly, pretending to read a letter before him.

Stepping into the room with a bolt twirling around his forefinger and thumb, Varric threw the Commander a short nod. ‘Burning the midnight oil again eh Curly?’

‘What do you want Varric? asked Cullen bluntly.

Varric chuckled. ‘So how’s my daddy going?’. Grinning, he shook his head. ‘Ok forget it, that just sounds wrong. So! When’s Nightingale gonna have this kid? She’s overdue now from what I’ve heard. You gotta tell this kid to hurry up ‘cause I’ve got a fair bit of clink on it being a girl.’

‘So Skyhold is betting on the gender of my child these days?’ remarked Cullen flatly ‘Are the people that desperate for entertainment?’

‘Heck this is the most entertaining flutter we’ve had since Blackwall filled up that jar with pickled onions and ran bets as to the number inside.’ grinned Varric ‘Forty-six.’

Rubbing his wavy hair into a dishevelled mess, Cullen appeared too tired for Varric’s banter. ‘Say what you came for Varric, and make it quick.’

Pressing his hands together, Varric sat down opposite Cullen at the table. ‘Ok talk to me straight, Curly. Between you and me how long have we got here? If I order another wagon load of ale from Ferelden am I going to be serving it to just the rats come a few weeks?’

‘I thought you wanted to get back to Kirkwall after all this was over?’ observed Cullen tiredly ‘You’re free to go. Why are you still here?’

The rogue waved off the question. ‘Bah don’t get me started. That bastard Corff isn’t selling The Hanged Man anytime soon, and I got a good thing going here. Was hoping to stay a while and you know, keep the Seeker company. Have a break from the world. But at the end of the day I’m a business man and I need the facts.’. The dwarf clapped his hands loudly. ‘So give it to me straight.’

The Commander looked fed up with the question before he had even answered it. ‘Technically this keep is on Ferelden crown land. Which means technically Alistair Theirin is the only one who can determine whether any of us can stay here.’

‘And technically Alistair kinda hates your guts and wants you dead.’ pointed out Varric ‘That bastard isn’t going to be doing us any favours any time soon. Had the nerve to invite me to the wed—‘. The rogue hesitated, suddenly realising this wasn’t the conversation he wished to bring up with the Commander. ‘Ah yeah well, anyway maybe this talk can wait for another day.’

‘You don’t have to tip toe around the fact that Ophelia is getting married.’ observed Cullen darkly ‘I’m surprised you didn’t head out to Denerim with the Inquisition party a few days ago. Why aren’t you going to the blessed event?’

Throwing the bolt on the table, Varric looked annoyed. ‘Damn it Curly, why aren’t you going? Because we both know the whole thing is bullshit, that’s why. No way was I going to join in on the celebrations while I watch my friend get forced into a marriage she doesn’t want to be in. Screw that.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’ muttered Cullen.

‘I used to think Alistair was an okay guy, but the fact that he is going along with this insanity makes me think he’s the biggest jerk in Thedas. And that’s including Cabot and Corff.’

Cullen looked agitated, tapping his quill into the ink pot over and over again. ‘Whether we like it or not, Alistair saved our hides. No matter what he’s doing at present, if it wasn’t for his soldiers and resources we would have never defeated Corypheus and his army.’

‘Bullshit.’ retorted Varric angrily ‘We owe our thanks to the people of Ferelden. And to me and you and Ophelia. Alistair came in and used his people as a bargaining chip to get what he wanted. That’s all he did.’

‘Either way, he could have pulled the rug from under our feet.’ growled Cullen ‘And he didn’t. I didn’t say I agreed with what he did, just that he kept his fucking word…and now we are obliged to do the same.’. His amber eyes burned angrily and suddenly it became too much for the man. With a roar, Cullen stood up and began punching the bookcase, sending maps and sheets of paper flying as the wood cracked and splintered under his angry fists. Several minutes of pounding went by until the Commander was forced to stop as his fist was red raw and starting to bleed.

Varric looked sadly at the Commander. ‘Sorry Curly.’

Cullen’s shoulders fell, and he stopped beating the shelf. ‘After the wedding was put on hold I thought there was a chance it would not happen at all. It has been nearly nine months since she left, and they were not married. It gave me hope Varric. False fucking hope. After all this time I could have sworn it meant there was never going to be a blasted wedding and soon Ophelia….well I was wrong.’

‘It’s all bullshit.’ frowned Varric, shaking his head ‘Ask me ten years ago whether I believed in happy endings I would have slapped you on the back and said sure thing kid. Ask me now and I’ll tell you everyone is dealt a shit hand and unless you’re an expert in cards you’re going to play it bad and end up with nothing.’

‘It’s fine.’ replied Cullen sternly, shaking his fist in pain. ‘I’m working through it, as you can see. Now if that’s all?’

Varric jumped up out of his seat, ready to leave the room before a thought came to mind. ‘Ah, before I go. So…uh, how is Nightingale? You both must be pretty excited about meeting the little one any day now?’

‘Leliana is several weeks overdue so as you can imagine we are both quite eager now.’ nodded the Commander. His eyes lifted to see Varric grinning at him. ‘I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to see what my child will look like.’ replied Cullen, a small smile on his face. ‘There’s something incomparable to watching your child grow in another person. Sometimes when Leliana is sitting down you can actually see the baby moving an arm or leg. Life is an amazing thing. It’s a far deal more pleasant to be around compared to the usual death and gloom of days gone by.’

Varric smiled to himself. ‘That’s great Curly, you know I’m really happy for you both. A new life and a new chapter eh? Well I’ll leave you to it. Night Commander.’

‘Good night Varric. Now get out and give me some peace.’ chuckled Cullen, waving him off with a flick off his quill.

As the door closed, Cullen threw the quill onto the table and sighed heavily. If only for the sake of his child, he needed to control his feelings and move on from what could have been. He was about to be a father and that was the only thing that mattered now.


	88. Sugared Almonds

_Steal me from this madness,_

_keep me from death’s door,_

_lift me from this sadness,_

_that I should live once more._

_My broken heart cannot heal,_

_no more my soul shall cry,_

_and all I loved I do not feel,_

_so I bid you now goodbye._

Throughout my life I had been able to detach from reality rather well, living in my head while life continued on without me. As a child I travelled every day to all corners of Thedas, even if I was confined to the lower courtyard of the Trevelyan manor. I explored deserts, swam in waterfalls and climbed mountains with breathtaking views of uncharted horizons. My friends were eccentric characters, funny and full of wit yet also as kind as any I had ever known. Perhaps the cooks and maids couldn’t see them, but my friends were as real as those serving staff. And nicer.

The years went by and as an apprentice mage in the Ostwick tower I became entangled in a wild love affair with a mage named Smith, who had roguish handsome features of dark brown hair and piercing eyes. If I was being truthful, whilst he was a real mage in the tower we had never met. Yet in my head we were madly in love. It was enough to get me though the long days knowing in my head I had someone in my life…even if only in my mind. When I fled Ostwick, for a while there I was a travelling gypsy with the road being the only home I ever desired. My wild imagination then fixated on Cullen the moment I arrived at Haven, imagining a romance with the sturdy templar with rugged good looks. I was convinced innocent glances were filled with love lust, and soon we were harbouring a desire that was stronger than no other. To my surprise that fantasy actually manifested into reality, but in truth it would not have mattered if it hadn’t for the only reason I imagined such things was to cope with the environment I found myself in. It was a strange existence, and yet after a while it became a more desirable one compared to the reality I was always escaping from. After living so many years in my head the real world was, in comparison, rather lacklustre. I found that no matter where I was or what I was doing, I could transport out of my body and away from the present situation. It was nicer there. There I was happy. And once more I had found my way back to that magical place.

Sometimes it is best not to scrutinise one’s sanity to closely….

Standing on the stage of the Orlesian theatre of Le Stage de Chan’teray, I was ready to perform. The audience were captivated, and my lead part had been the envy of many troubadours. It was time, and as an actress I was determined to make this role a once of a lifetime performance.

I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.

Eyes closed, I felt a pair of lips touch mine. Tentative at first, and soft and gently bestowed as they met my mouth. Friendly and warm, with a slight soft scratch of stubble left behind. The sensation caused me to open my eyes, locking into a pair of brown eyes as both of us pulled back in somewhat surprise.

‘Congratulations your majesties.’ whispered the Grand Cleric with a wide smile.

The cheer of the crowd in the cathedral startled both Alistair and I, as we turned to face the people in that first moment as husband and wife. Like stunned mullets. For a moment I couldn’t recall where I was or how I got there. By the hazy look in my companion’s eyes as he stared out towards the people, I suspected Alistair was feeling the same.

The wedding. The royal wedding of Alistair Theirin and Ophelia Trevelyan.

Alistair smiled warmly, waving to the crowd with one hand and holding my hand with the other. He squeezed it, turning to me with a semi-apologetic smile. As if silently saying to me sorry about all of this.

My eyes turned away.

That wasn’t the look I envisioned seeing in the eyes of my groom on my wedding day. Indeed if we were being truthful he wasn’t the groom I envisioned marrying me at the altar. In reply, I waved to the crowd and looked blankly out across to the sea of faces.

Hail King Alistair! Hail Queen Ophelia!

Hearing people shout out my new title made me feel sick. That wasn’t my name. I felt like an imposter. A puppet queen. It was….humiliating.

The crowd cheered again, making way for the bride and groom as we exited the cathedral hand in hand. The candles from the closet candelabra shone on Alistair’s reddish brown hair as we descended down the aisle. His dark blue embroidered tunic fell to his mid-thigh, simple and elegant. In my hand clutched a bunch of wilting posies, reaching for the floor as I carried their limp and lifeless stems along.

My eyes caught flashes of people I recognised, yet as we walked on it was too late to acknowledge them. All I knew was they were all there watching this….spectacle.

Bombarded by a thousand congratulatory remarks at the steps of the cathedral, Alistair and I were hastily hustled into a white carriage. His boot stood on the trail of my wedding dress and I heard a rip. Looking down I could only see perfect crisp white silk and lace material. The horses neighed and the carriage jolted as we drove away, my eyes watching the crowd enthusiastically wave us goodbye.

The performance was over but my new reality had only just begun…..

****

Click…

The heavy wooden door closed behind us in the royal chambers and I stood there in a daze, looking about the royal bedchambers. Uncomfortable did not even begin to describe the moment. Alistair stood beside me, biting his bottom lip with a furrowed brow. Awkwardly we shuffled about the room, identical expressions on our faces that revealed how uneasy we both were to be here under the current circumstances.

In my own chambers that morning I had been thoroughly informed of the protocol of Ferelden royal weddings. The tradition in Denerim was to have the matrimonial ceremony in the evening, and for the bride and groom to immediately retire to the castle afterwards. The celebrations officially began the next day, and from what I was told from half a dozen excited attendants, it involved several days of banqueting and merry making. The official wedding feast would occur on the next night after the ceremony and that was when Alistair and I would join all our guests. Until then custom dictated to remain in our lodgings. One could only guess why that would be…

‘Well that went well.’ observed Alistair nervously, running a hand through his brown hair. Fidgeting with the cream frilled cuffs of his undershirt, the king tried to preoccupy himself. After several tugs at the fabric, he gave up and looked rather helplessly across the room. ‘Needless to say this is a Ferelden custom to be rushed back here, not my personal intentions. Think of it as a royal tour. Well…this is my room. Amazing, isn’t it?’. The man laughed nervously, lifting his hands in the air to present me with the room. ‘I think every King of Ferelden has slept in here, which isn’t creepy in the slightest, is it? On the bright side our chances of seeing a ghost greatly improves considering how old the place is. We could tell ghost stories later and rattle some chains down the hall for a bit of fun?’

Revealing a small smile, I felt a little better that Alistair seemed as uneasy as I was about all of this. My face must have shown a certain level of apprehension, for when Alistair looked over at me he immediately turned for the butlers tray in the corner of the room.

‘Uhh…can I offer my bride a drink?’ asked Alistair nervously ‘What am I saying? Can I offer my bride several drinks? Copious amounts of drinks until we all forgot about this slightly awkward situation we’re now in and can continue on as indifferent acquaintances for the rest of our lives like most married couples.’

Pressing my fingers to eyes, I shook my head. What had just happened? None of this felt real. ‘Tell me Alistair, did we really just get married?’ I asked hesitantly ‘I mean…I remember being in the cathedral but it’s such a blur.’

The Ferelden pulled the cork from a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses. ‘Tell me about it. It all went so fast, I can’t say whether we were married or privy to a rather boring Chantry sermon.’ he joked.

‘I can’t believe it,’ I frowned ‘or won’t? I’m not sure which one yet.’

Offering a glass to me, Alistair smiled sadly. ‘Am I that abhorrent as a husband?’

Accepting the beverage, I shook my head with a sad laugh. ‘Of course not. That’s not what I meant.’

‘But you regret this marriage.’ affirmed Alistair, his brown eyes growing sad ‘Of course you do.’

How could I answer that? I couldn’t lie and say I was happy about it, yet some annoying inbuilt politeness within me couldn’t bare telling Alistair he was right. Tapping my glass nervously with my finger I tried to think of a way to avoid the question. ‘You’ve been nothing but kindness itself since I’ve arrived in Denerim. If anything, you must be regretting your choice of bride?’

Tilting his head, Alistair smiled fondly at me. ‘I can safely say that was not what I was thinking when I saw you walk the aisle towards me this evening.’. Raising his glass, he cleared his throat. ‘To my beautiful bride.’

‘To my beautiful husband.’ I quipped back awkwardly, causing Alistair to chuckle once more.

Clinking our glasses, we drank deeply. One sip seemed insufficient, and after three or four gulps we ceased the toast and waited for the alcohol to numb the situation just a little.

Our eyes met, and then quickly turned away from each other. My attention found the floor a good distraction, while Alistair pretended to study the label on the wine bottle. Nervously I pretended to examine the room with a great deal more interest than I felt. 

‘Your room is twice the size of mine.’ I observed flatly.

Alistair laughed, his attention drawing away from the bottle as he looked about the room. ‘I never asked for it.’ he protested ‘Something about being a king, you get the biggest room in the castle and the fanciest carriage. I guess that’s why you were so desperate to marry me?’

Looking at the man, smiling and trying to make light hearted of a situation that obviously would have been causing him great discomfort I felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps I had been too harsh on the man since arriving. With a frown, I placed myself down on a seat at a small dining table near the large stone fireplace. ‘Alistair I need to say something. I know it’s our wedding day but I need to say this now. I’m sorry for…well, for ignoring you and everyone else here at the palace for the last five months.’

‘Eight and a half.’ corrected Alistair with a grin, joining me at the table ‘The longest silent treatment on record, it was impressive. And no apology needed, most people ignore me. I’m used to it. It comes with being a bastard. Jokes aside, you know I can’t say I blame you if you decided to never talk to me ever again.’

Taking a sip of the wine with a frown, I recalled many a night like this. In private chambers, drinking wine in the intimate company of another. ‘I was angry at you because I blamed you for taking me away from Cullen.’ I explained ‘Sorry, of course that was pretty obvious.’

‘I did though, didn’t I?’ replied Alistair guiltily.

My eyes drifted down to the cold wedding band that now wrapped around my finger. It didn’t shine like Cullen’s, and looked entirely wrong on my finger. ‘We were to be married, Alistair. I love Cullen more than anything else in this life. We were going to live happily ever after.’

Growing quiet, I knew it was never as simple as that. He had fathered a child with another woman. Leliana of all people. No matter how much I convinced myself that a child changed nothing, in truth it changed everything.

‘I love him Alistair, there is nothing I can do to change that.’ I continued sadly ‘The hardest thing I ever had to do was leave Skyhold. The day I left I saw Cullen instructing some soldiers in the courtyard from afar. I…’. Cursing myself for always being emotional at the most inappropriate time I held back the urge to ball my eyes out then and there. Taking a deep breath, I continued. ‘I knew that was the last time I would see Cullen like that. Day in and out at Skyhold, the one consistent thing in my life that I loved so dearly. I took that final look at him and I walked away without saying goodbye. I cried all the way to Denerim.’

Alistair rubbed his neck shamefully, sadly looking towards me. ‘Ophelia I know that it’s been hard for you here. I stood to gain a lot more stability in my kingdom by marrying the Inquisitor, and yet I know for you there is nothing here you desire. I’m so sorry to have been the one to have done this to you.’

Taking another sip, I shook my head. ‘You’re not the cause. Well you are, but you’re not. Not really. It took me months of wallowing in misery here to come to accept the reality that has been before me all this time. I mean, come on, look at what is happening right now. Leliana is about to have Cullen’s child. His child. You didn’t do that.’

‘I most definitely didn’t.’ muttered Alistair, appearing as if he too disapproved. ‘But for taking you from Skyhold when I did, it was wrong. I should have waited until after the battle at the very least. You must believe me when I say I am sorry for that.’

I could feel the anger rising just a little. In truth it had been there just below the surface for a while now. ‘For pulling me out of that environment? Don’t be. I should be the one apologising to you. Perhaps even thanking you? Don’t get me wrong, losing Cullen has destroyed a part of me that I know will change me forever. I love him so much it hurts, and there isn’t a spare moment in the day when my mind doesn’t think about him. His memory is all I have now.’. Sighing, I shook my head. ‘I was angry at you but you’re not the one who ruined my relationship. It was that baby. Cullen and Leliana created a child and I have no place to be involved. That is why Cullen and I are not together.’

‘More wine?’ asked Alistair with a look of pity.

Pushing my glass to him, I sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘Time puts matters into perspective, for better or for worse.’ confessed Alistair, taking a sip as he cradled his glass. ‘The death of Sierra devastated me, as you well know. Since her death I spent the time coming to terms with it. Hating Cullen. And I do. I really do. I cannot lie to you and say I think you were better off with him Ophelia. He is a murderer.’

Pursing my lips, I held back what I felt like saying out of respect for Sierra.

Alistair continued. ‘Maker it is hard. I’ve…I’ve had to come to terms with her memory. Recently I’ve come to see that Sierra was not…well how do I put this? She was not entirely the most flawless of characters. You know? It was something that I easily could ignore and put to the back of my mind when she was by my side. You do that for love. Ignore the bad stuff.’. Alistair drank heavily from his glass, draining it of its last drop. ‘My memories feel tainted however, like a shadow creeping under a door. Does that make sense? Sorry, I’m not making any sense.’

Thinking back to all the not so pleasant times with Cullen, I knew exactly what Alistair meant. ‘Cullen ordered my execution once.’ I blurted out suddenly ‘Long story short I saved Michel from a demon but the demon would only release him if I performed a spell he instructed me to perform. It was blood magic. When Cullen found out he labelled me a blood mage, and ordered my arrest. I ran for my life and ended up living in Kirkwall as a thief for a while there.’

Utter surprise covered Alistair’s face. ‘Are you serious? That is…horrible.’

‘Agreed.’ I replied, clinking my glass to his before sculling. ‘He apologised for it later. I suppose it’s all water under the bridge. You know what? In the end I loved the bastard so much it didn’t even matter.’

The king looked downright dismal now, knowing this were a good opportunity to share woeful stories of our significant others. ‘Sierra was a blood mage,’ confessed Alistair ‘and enjoyed practicing it. She did terrible things with her magic.’. He looked awfully burdened as he spoke the words, as if the knowledge had weighed heavily on him for years. ‘I spent so much effort trying to hide that part of her from everyone. The kingdom of Ferelden, the wardens, everyone. If anyone knew what she was practicing they would not have been so forthcoming with their respect to the hero of Ferelden. Between you and me, sometimes she made decisions that were so…heinous. It made me uneasy, but I don’t know…I was in love so I turned a blind eye. I loved her and blood magic was only one part of her.’. Alistair poured another drink, his face growing darker and darker. ‘She destroyed the sacred ashes of Andraste. To this very day I don’t know how she could have done such a thing.’

‘I had heard something of that.’ I murmured ‘Leliana mentioned there was a cult involved. Something about an offer of power or money or something?’

His brown eyes looked grimly up. ‘I don’t like to think back on those days. But yes, that was the gist of it.’

‘Jowan is a malificar. Or was. He told me that Sierra and he used to practice blood magic back at the Ferelden tower.’ I added uneasily.

Alistair appeared cynical. ‘She mentioned him a lot, and with a terrible amount of fondness.’

‘Cullen and Leliana have been together since just after the Blight.’ I sighed, deciding to confess more to my drinking buddy. ‘He never told me about Leliana and him, not until she was murdered at Skyhold. They had some secret relationship going on the entire time and the idiot that I am never knew in the slightest. Talk about clueless.’

‘They were together all that time?’ asked Alistair in surprise ‘You know I recall their first meeting at the Ferelden Tower when the demons had taken over the tower…I wasn’t aware of any particular fondness between them?’

At least I wasn’t the only person who was oblivious. ‘No it was just after the Blight when they both ended up in the Greenfeel Chantry. I believe that was when they began to get close.’

‘No wonder you hate her. Well why we’re at it, Sierra slept with a few wardens over the years.’ informed Alistair darkly, taking another long sip of wine. ‘Rumours mind you, but I don’t have reason to think my good comrades would make that up with no substance behind it. She was particularly close to this one warden name Finch. Slimy creature, always had this smug grin on his face that I wanted to wipe the floor with. They were always together. Giggling and touching and exchanging lingering glances. That sort of thing. I don’t know, it seemed easier just to ignore it. Guess that makes me just as much an idiot as you?’

The man threw me a sorry smile, and I returned the look. It was almost funny. Almost.

‘Alistair, what is wrong with us? Maybe this marriage wasn’t the worst thing to happen to us after all?’ I observed dryly ‘I mean, look at us?’

‘We make a sorry pair, don’t we?’ scoffed Alistair. Pulling off his blue wedding tunic and throwing it on the table, he eased back into his chair more comfortably in his cream undershirt. ‘Maybe it’s the gods deciding we can’t be trusted in making our own choices?’

‘Great so as punishment I get to be a part of the Theirin family tree.’ I teased ‘Thanks a lot.’

Alistair pursed his lips, as if he agreed it was a punishment. ‘Sorry about the whole royal thing. If you knew me in my younger days you’d know this was the last place I wanted to be. Maric, Cailan. They were kings. But King Alistair? It sounds ridiculous every time I hear it.’. His brown eyes looked seriously to me. ‘Ophelia, I’m no king. I mean, well I am. But I’m not. I’m just Alistair Theirin. A boy from Redcliff that joined the templars and got a little lost along the way there. That’s it.’

Grinning, I knew exactly what he meant. ‘And I’m no Queen or Inquisitor, just Ophelia. A girl from the Free Marches that never really figured out what she wanted to do with her life before it was forced upon her.’

A wide smile grew on Alistair’s face. ‘Well Ophelia, it’s nice to finally meet you.’

‘You too, Alistair.’ I replied, feeling like I’d finally seen the real man behind all the titles.

As the hours passed by, the pair of us opened up more and spoke of our lives. I told him about my dreary childhood and he in turn told me about his. We both seemed to be lacking the care of a family, wandering somewhat aimlessly through life where perhaps others with a steadier upbringing may have avoided doing so. Our hopes and dreams, and our inevitable disappointments. Alistair entertained me tales of his involvement during the Blight, and through the laughter and tears I began to see that the man before me was in fact a true hero. He spoke of the battle at Ostagar and losing his brother Cailan and friend Duncan in a battle where none of them stood a chance. There was sadness in his voice for many stories, but also hope. Alistair spoke proudly of how the elves, dwarves and men had come together and fought the darkspawn. In awe I listened on and felt more and more humbled to be in the presence of this man.

Dinner was finally served in his chamber and we feasted on strange wedding foods such as pickled cucumbers, sugared almonds, apricot nut cheese, and bread shaped in a Chantry symbol with wine brushed on it.

Alistair frowned, appearing to be attempting to remember something as he broke off some of the bread. ‘How did it go again?’ he muttered to himself ‘Through joy...no was it happi...yes that’s it. Through happiness and sadness, may we share each joy and burden together. Here, eat this.’

‘You eat it.’ I quipped, looking at the bread with playful suspicion.

‘It’s tradition to share bread before the wedding meal.’ observed an amused Alistair, his eyes sparkling with cheer ‘It’s not poison. That’s coated on the sugared almonds over there.’

Taking a bite, I nodded. ‘Tastes good for Chantry bread. Here.’. Ripping of some of the loaf, I playfully shoved it into Alistair’s mouth. ‘Through happiness and sadness, may we share each joy and burdenous bread together. Eat it.’

Chuckling on a mouthful of squashed loaf, the man munched away.

‘Well that was fun.’ I grinned ‘Now, what do we do with the cheese and green stuff over there?’

‘I have no idea.’ laughed Alistair, eyeing the sludge and pickles with suspicion ‘It looks…unpleasant. Let’s skip that and move on to the sweets.’

Searching the table for any other hidden food, I whistled in disappointment. ‘I dunno Alistair. You’re king of Ferelden and this is what you get for dinner on your wedding night? You must have annoyed the cooks.’

The man groaned, pouring more wine. ‘It’s just another terrible Ferelden royal tradition. Makes you wish you were marrying an Orlesian, doesn’t it?’

Growing a little quieter I sipped on my wine and pushed away the cheese to the end of the table.

‘Sorry.’ apologised Alistair once more. ‘I know……...I know you and Michel…I mean, I know you both would be better here now celebrating your nuptials rather than you and I.’

It would have been comical at how apologetic Alistair was if it hadn’t been more so tragic that he was married now to me. And it was tragic, for him and for I. His goodness was a rarity and Alistair was too nice a person to be involved in such politics. Alistair deserved to be married to a wife that loved him with all her heart.

‘Well this is great, you seem to think I want to be married to half of Thedas?’ I joked ‘Seriously though, you do realise if I truly wanted to escape you I could have done so by now. I’m here Alistair, let’s not worry about what could have been. There’s nothing to be gained from it.’

The night continued on and we merrily chatted away like two friends in a tavern rather than husband and wife. Indeed I think the ceremony slipped our mind altogether as the drinks kept on pouring. We spoke of everything under the sun, including a great deal about our lives, and as time went on we both began to realise we both shared a similar plight in life. We were pawns in a game that was not our own.

‘No one takes me seriously.’ I scoffed ‘You’d think as Inquisitor I would have been running the show but I was never. Not even in the early days. They never even listened to me most of the time. Actually make that all the time.’

‘Story of my life.’ piped in Alistair, slumping his cheek to rest on his palm ‘Funny how you can help end the Blight, save Thedas, run the order of the Grey Wardens, and be king…but still you have an inkling you’re not being taken altogether seriously.’

Throwing my companion a stern look, I knocked the table in annoyance. ‘I defeated Corypheus. Do you realise how hard that bastard was to kill? Varric, Michel, Cassandra and I were this close to pushing daisies. But hey, no big deal.’

Alistair raised a brow. ‘Ever tried killing an archdemon on top of a tower? It’s harder than it sounds.’

‘We deserve to be taken seriously.’ I grumbled, pouring more wine in sloppy splashes.

‘Look at us now.’ announced Alistair, standing up unsteadily as he raised his glass high above his head ‘Kings and Queens of the realm. Watch out Thedas, here comes the Theirins.’

‘Cheers to that.’ I sighed.

The long clock chimed in the room twelve times and we both looked up in surprise to realise it was already midnight.

‘Time flies when your locked away in your bedroom with several expensive wines.’ chuckled Alistair, now very merrily sipping away ‘It’s been a fun evening though. We should get married more often.’

Raising a brow, I looked to the shut door. ‘I hate to ask, but are we prisoners in here? What’s the protocol with royal weddings? They bustle us into this room and then what? Is someone coming in here to make sure we’re in bed?’

Alistair raised his suggestive brow with a grin, causing me to now raise both of mine in surprise.

‘Ha ha ha no, no I assure you I’m completely joking.’ laughed the king, waving his hand in jest. ‘Tradition assumes the marriage is being consummated as soon as that door closed behind us. Don’t worry, I won’t be forcing myself on you. There are some traditions I am happy to break.’

Perhaps not tonight, but what was his intention? I grew quiet as the thought filled my mind. We were married after all? Alistair was an attractive man, so what was his plan if he didn’t want anything to do with me? To have a mistress on the side? Did I care either way? The man seemed so nice, there was no reason to think he would be like that. Then again, how well did I know this person that I just married?

‘Ophelia?’

There was no way to address it except to come out with it, no matter how much I wished not to. ‘This is weird. Ok, tell me straight. What are the expectations of me now that I’m your queen?’ I asked precariously ‘I mean seriously, Alistair. I’m not oblivious to the purpose of marriage. My chamber maids this morning were talking nonstop about how exciting this moment would be.’

A tinge of red flushed Alistair’s cheeks at my blunt observation. ‘Ah. Well…yes, you’re right. They expect things from us, that is true.’ he replied, rubbing his jaw uneasily ‘However that is your decision, when and if you ever choose to.’. Rubbing his temples, he shook his head with a frown that suggested he was more in turmoil about talking about it than actually performing the deed. ‘Maker what am I saying? Ok here’s the thing. Ferelden wants me to sire an heir. You know, being the king and all. But I wouldn’t force you to ever….you know. You have nothing to fear on that note. I swear it. We can grab an orphan from the streets and pretend it’s our child, or I don’t know dress up one of the mabaris in a pinafore and bonnet. Ok I need to stop talking.’

‘So romantic.’ I teased, grinning at the red cheeked king.

‘You know what I mean.’ replied Alistair seriously ‘Leave me to worry about Eamon pestering about heirs.’

Narrowing my eyes, I pretended to be annoyed. ‘Is Eamon behind this marriage nonsense? I don’t want to say it Alistair but you know what we must do?’

Alistair shrugged. ‘Snip off his beard while he’s sleeping? Cut holes in his pantaloons?’. Snapping his fingers, the king grinned widely ‘Put pepper in his handkerchief!’

‘I was thinking about putting treacle in his boots,’ I joked ‘but I like all those suggestions.’

Looking more than a little mischievous, Alistair’s large hand grabbed mine warmly as he somewhat wonkily stood up from the table. ‘I’m sorry Ophelia, we don’t have time to consummate our marriage tonight when there are more pressing matters at hand. You know, important royal business. There’s a passage close by that leads to the larder, and I know for a fact that there is a large jug of treacle in there. First stop, kitchens. Next stop, Eamon’s chambers.’

‘You’re joking.’ I giggled.

‘Just try and stop me.’ grinned Alistair ‘And now you’re my wife you’re my partner in crime. So come on scallywag, we’re off to get some treacle!’

Grinning at my companion, I followed him to the door of our chambers. Perhaps this wasn’t how I imagined my wedding night, but then again who was I to say this wasn’t going to turn out to be the finest marriage in the whole of Thedas.


	89. The Sweet Sacrifice of Duty

Awoken by a fresh Denerim morning breeze from Alistair’s bedroom window, tiredly my eyes blinked open. It was early for the sun was low on the horizon, barely shining through the window. Specks of golden coloured dust floated in the still air, beautiful and serene, and for a moment I believed I was back in my bed in Skyhold. However the heavy breathing of another startled me and I suddenly remembered where I actually was. 

Rolling onto my side, I peered over the edge of the bed to where Alistair was blissfully asleep on the ground, curled up around a loose jacquard blanket and a fat feather pillow. 

Biting my lip in guilt I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. 

The King of Ferelden snoozing on the hard wooden floorboards the morning after his wedding. It didn’t seem right? Yet the man had been insistent, refusing to even share his bed with me, despite me reassuring him we could sleep in the same bed without it being awkward. The situation was already awkward, what did sleeping arrangements matter? Although I had to give Alistair credit for being so chivalrous. He flat out refused my offer and insisted the floor was extremely comfortable, and there he had drifted off in the early hours of the morning.

Quietly I retreated to the chest by the door where some of my clothing had been transported the day before. There was a pang of guilt as I quickly I dressed myself and snuck out of the room. This was not how I wanted things to be. Me creeping out of my chambers while my new husband slept. Then again if anyone had asked me what I had wanted, I would not have been in Alistair’s bed chambers in the first place. I would not have been been married to the man.

That aside, I was concerned what the marriage yesterday might have done to Michel. Knowing he had to watch the entire affair made me incredibly sad. The thought of hurting him further, now having to watch me stand by another man was....awful. The truth I had desperately been trying to hide since arriving at Denerim was that Michel and I cared for each other dearly. Both of us had been trying to conceal it for so long now. 

After arriving in Denerim and realising Cullen was not coming for me, things began to change. Even in my sadness and my grief at the loss of my fiancé, Michel was there as a close confidant. I began to rely on the chevalier once more, as a friend and as one who had my affections. While the chevalier welcomed our friendship with open arms, it was apparent he was fearful of the repercussions. Michel insisted our closeness had to be concealed from Alistair, and that neither of us could act on any romantic feelings. At the time that was fine, as long as he was here. Michel was my only friend in the castle, and more than that I loved him dearly for it. In secret I had always loved the chevalier much more than that.

Reaching the chevalier's room through several turns of the dimly candlelit wooden corridors, I knocked hastily on the familiar door. A cold draft blew through the hall, and I bit my lip silently hoping Michel was inside. The faint sound of footsteps sounded and moments later the door creaked opened, the Orlesian still in his white bed tunic and his usually neat blond hair spilling out long and beautiful past his shoulders. His blue eyes widened to see me standing there, surprised and then slightly concerned.

‘Ophelia?’ remarked Michel, extended a hand towards my shoulder ‘What are you doing here? What has happened? Are you alright?’

‘Of course, I’m fine.’ I replied in a hushed voice, not wanting to draw attention to any wandering guards. ‘Can I come in, or are you going to leave me standing here?’

Michel hesitated, looking down both sides of the abandoned corridor. 

‘No one saw me come here.’ I reassured ‘But they will if you keep me waiting here like a beggar at the door!’

Allowing me to enter, Michel quietly closed the door behind me and locked it swiftly. The knight turned back to me with a frown. ‘It's the morning after your wedding and you’re married to the King of Ferelden now. You can’t be doing this.’

‘I wanted to talk to you.’ I replied defensively, turning away from his disapproving look. 

My fingers ran along the mantlepiece, curiously picking up several ornaments lying across the stone slab. A stone bronze horse, an ornate Orlesian brass carriage clock, a silver snuff box so refined it looked like it was worth a small village, and two bee hive shaped candles that smelled strongly of sweet honey. Little trinkets Michel had no doubt picked up over the last few months. 

‘There is no harm in wanting to talk to you, surely? I added, looking back to the chevalier.

Michel looked uneasy. ‘Then wait until a normal hour and let us speak in public, and without disgrace.’ 

Utterly perplexed at who the person was that I was speaking to, I crossed my arms and glared at him. ‘Disgrace? What in the blazes are you on about?! I came here to speak to my friend. A friend that has been avoiding me for several weeks now as the wedding has gotten closer and closer. Don’t think I didn’t notice that.’

The Orlesian’s blue eyes caught mine and revealed a guilt to suggest he had been doing exactly that. ‘You must suspect my reasons?’ he replied apologetically ‘Forgive me ma’arlath, but this wedding has been difficult. More difficult than you would ever know.’

‘It was my arranged wedding!’ I chortled ‘I think I understand better than any.’

Michel sighed, drawing closer to me. Gently he pulled a loose strand of hair from my forehead, a small sad smile on his face. ‘You know what I mean, mon cherie.’ he murmured 'You standing up there with Alistair in that wedding gown, like an exquisite swan. Every pair of eyes on you and I envious of each and every one.'. His finger traced lightly against my cheek. 'You were so beautiful ma'arlath.'

My bravado melted away and I felt ashamed at making light-hearted of a situation that caused us both pain. It was a stupid defense I put up, but I knew with Michel I needed to be honest. ‘I’m so sorry Michel.' I murmured 'I'm so sorry ma'arlath.'

Michel kissed my cheek gently, his lips soft and lingering. ‘You know you cannot call me that anymore.' he whispered 'All it takes is one person to know a little elvish to realise you refer to me as your love.’ 

‘I’ve been calling you that for quite a while now?’ I mused ‘Ne’emma lath, Michel.’

‘And you are my love also,’ affirmed Michel sadly ‘but we must accept that things have changed now you are married to the king. Our terms of affection are no longer appropriate. And coming into the chambers of another man who used to be your lover, especially the day after your wedding, will only make cause for a terrible scandal.’

Curling my fingers through his, I looked up at the man.‘I miss you.’

‘As do I,’ he replied, placing a soft kiss on my cheek ‘but we cannot give in to our desires.’

Playfully I grabbed his hand, but Michel continued to look at me seriously. Groaning, I rolled my eyes. ‘Come now Michel, I woke up in a cold and strange room and I wanted to see my only friend in the castle. I don’t care what gossip dictates. Whatever they say is probably right.’

‘I gave Alistair my word I would not come between you both.’ added Michel sternly ‘My honour forbids this.’

Cupping my hand to his delicate cheek, I smiled. ‘Do you want me to leave, ma’arlath?’

‘Ophelia.’ warned Michel seriously, trying to stop a smile on his lips. 

‘Shhh,’ I whispered ‘there is nothing sinister happening here. I just wanted to see you.’. Running my finger across his snow white cheek, I looked into the half-elve's sparkling blue eyes. ‘So sad?’ I frowned ‘Come now, it was not you who was forced into a marriage.’

He pulled my hand away from his cheek, gently moving it to his lips and bestowing another kiss. Our foreheads touched and the chevalier sighed heavily. ‘You know my sorrow.’

My eyes lowered, knowing all too well the sadness we both shared. Cradling his head in my hands, I looked into his eyes. ‘Ir abelas, it is my sorrow too Michel.’

The knight held my gaze, his thumb lightly pressing over my lips. ‘Hush,’ he whispered ‘you do not need to aplogise for what happened.’

‘But I have caused us both pain.’ I added sadly 'My actions have done that, intentional or not.'

‘Mon cherie, it is the memory of a time not lived that brings me great sadness.' corrected Michel 'I often thought of what our wedding day would have been like. There was this small village to the east of Lapin that I used to walk to in the summer. Felderre. Such a pretty place with a little Orlesian white washed church that had this breathtaking wisteria tree in front that bloomed purple flowers every spring. Brilliant vibrant purple blooms that fell on the ground like a majestic carpet. In my mind you were there, in a simple cream dress. You hated all the fine Orlesian ones we looked at in Halamshiral when I took you shopping. And when I saw you there, standing under that wisteria tree waiting to be married to me, I understood why you needed nothing more than that simple dress. Beauty does not need such trappings.’. His blues eyes looked sadly at me ‘My beautiful bride, no more than a dream. Look at you now, married to another.’

‘What’s done was done out of necessity ma’arlath.’ I replied softly, kissing his warm cheek ‘You know why I did this and it has nothing to do with sentiment. It is only an agreement. A contract. You know I care for you. Alistair is a good man, but he does not have my heart. He will never know how much I care for you and he will never know how much I love you. That is for me to know and me alone.’

Michel shook his head, as if he could not forgive himself. ‘This is all my fault. I promised you would not have to marry him and yet you did.’ 

‘Michel what could you have done?’ I appealed, desperate to alleviate any guilt that the knight was feeling. ‘You are an incredible man but even you cannot influence political agendas. Do not think I blame you? It had nothing to do with you. I did what I had to for the Inquisition, and to ensure we had an army to defeat Corypheus.’

‘There is honour in what you have done,’ agreed Michel ‘but there is no honour in what we are doing here now. We cannot do this.’

Shaking my head, I refused to accept what he was saying. ‘We have done nothing dishonourable. We are just talking.’

The chevalier chuckled at the comment. 'Mon cherie, I fear I do not indulge in such discussions with others in my chambers.'. Michel placed my hand over his chest at where his heart lay, his eyes looking to mine once more. ‘It has taken all my honour to deny the urges that I feel for you. Did..’. He paused, a look of pain on his face. ‘…was Alistair gentleman-like behind closed doors last night?’

‘You’re not asking what I think you are?!’ I protested, throwing him a surprised look.

Michel shook his head in annoyance. ‘Ma’arlath, please. If I am to have any peace of mind let me know Alistair is as polite a man behind closed doors as he presents himself to the world.’

Rolling my eyes, I turned away. ‘I beg you stop. I told you this marriage had nothing to do with sentiment. Why in the blazes would I start entertaining Alistair behind closed doors? We didn’t do anything and we’re not interested in doing anything. It’s a marriage of convenience. That is all.’

The chevalier looked completely surprised at my answer. ‘Well I suppose such things will come in time.’

‘Such things won’t because I’m not in love with Alistair.’ I replied irritably ‘Must I shout it until I am blue in the face? What do you think of me?’

‘I think you’re the woman that just married the King of Ferelden.’ observed Michel stiffly, growing less cheerful. 

One didn’t have to guess what that comment implied. ‘So what if I am? Say what you a thinking, Michel.’

‘The duty of a Queen is to produce heirs for the King.’ observed Michel flatly ‘That is your role now. Me being here will only make things worse now you are wed. I have been thinking… maybe it would be better if I return to Orlais at Yule.’

Although surprised, I couldn’t say I blamed him wanting to escape all of this for a while. ‘A visit to Orlais for Yule to see your friends and family?’

The knight looked apologetic. Terribly apologetic. ‘No mon cherie, I mean returning to Orlais for good.’

‘You want to leave.’ I murmured, stepping away from the man. There was no rational reason why I was feeling so betrayed and hurt. Michel was not obliged to stay, nor indebted to me yet I was angry that he wanted to leave. Casting a cold glance, I turned away. ‘Do what you want, it’s no concern of mine. If honour is all you care about then you are right, there is no reason to stay.’

Michel appeared pained by the comment. ‘Is that what you think of me?' he replied 'After so many months of me being here despite your disengagement from me. You shut out everyone and everything, and yet you believe I care nothing for you?’ 

‘No of course not.’ I snapped. ‘What can I say? I’m sorry. You know being forced away from the Inquisition as I was…you know what that did to me. You know the horrors we had to endure in that final battle with Corypheus. That bastard had me flat on my back coughing blood on the stones and I was certain that was it. For a moment everything we had so desperately fought was slipping away before my eyes. Just like that. When I returned here I was even more broken than when I left.’. Placing an arm on his, I nodded. ‘You were broken too. I could see both of us changed a little after that fight.’

‘Mon cherie I have fought many more battles than you, the pain felt in the chaos of fighting never pained me.’ observed Michel solemnly. ‘To serve faithfully for a cause, whether that leads to death or not, is the epitome of honour for a chevalier. If I appeared changed, it is only in regards to my affection for you and the knowing that I could have lost you on that battlefield. You returned alive but I confess the experience wounded me in a way that even now I wake up with nightmares from that time. Never have I fought in a battle with my love by my side. Never would I wish to do so again.'

‘Has it felt any better in?’ I asked in concern, knowing Michel’s leg had been burned significantly in the fight by the red lyrium dragon. A terrible injury of dragon's frie that no human, elvish or dwarf treatment could fully heal.

Michel waved his hand, dismissing my concern. ‘It hurts in the evening the most but it will heal in time. Injuries serve to teach is lessons, I will use this experience to learn. Time is needed for all of us to heal.’

‘I’m sorry for shutting you out.’ I murmured ‘This impending wedding has been hanging over my head since I arrived here. My despair made me cold on the inside, and I tried to escape by keeping everyone away. Now I am married I wake up to find that fear has come and gone, and tomorrow is a new day. In fact, today is a new day! I promise never to shut you out ever again. Just please don’t go. Don’t leave me here by myself.’

The knight placed his hands firmly on my shoulders and looked desperately in my eyes. ‘Ophelia you must tell me, what do you want from me? You love Cullen. You are married to Alistair. On my honour to the king I vowed never to get in between you and he. So why should I stay?’

Shaking my head, I couldn't pretend any longer. ‘You were already in between Alistair and I before this blasted marriage was arranged. So Alistair married me to secure his kingdom? Fine. So Cullen chose to stay in Skyhold and is having a child with Leliana. Fine. Is it so wrong that I want you here with me? Is it so wrong that I get to choose my own path?’

‘You’re married to the King of Ferelden!’ exasperated Michel, grasping his temples in frustration. Sweeping his blonde hair back in annoyance, he turned to pace the room. No words were uttered, but the thoughts in his mind swirled chaotically. 

'It is just a formality.' I replied sadly.

‘Do you think that formality comes without expectation?' asked Michel sternly 'Do you not see that you have already chosen your path? You are now the Queen of Ferelden. They will expect you to give Ferelden future kings and queens.’

Knowing what he said was true and fearing his reaction I remained silent. The knight looked crushed at my refusal to speak, and he turned for the door. 

‘Michel—‘

Silently I cursed, stopping myself. He was right to question me, for it was wrong to ask Michel to stay here in Denerim. However I couldn’t help what I felt. I had lost Cullen and there was no way I was about to lose Michel aswell.

‘Don’t go, please.’ I called out 'Michel I'm begging you.'

‘Why?’ asked the Orlesian again, hand on the door knob. He refused to turn around, yet patently waited for an answer. ‘Why keep me here if only to torture both of us?’ he asked sadly, his voice low and sounding very tired. 

The silence continued as tears began to roll down my eyes. I knew in my heart this man had never once abandoned me, or let me down. After everything that happened, to follow me here and stay with me. To still declare a love for me as if it were unchanged over time and unblemished after all the issues we had faced. His love was pure. 

‘Because I love you, ma’arlath.’ I cried out. ‘Since the day I met you in Emprise du Lion I have loved you. Who is here with me no matter what? You are. Don’t think I don’t see that or thank the Maker every day for sending you to me.’

Michel turned back to me, his eyes full of affection. ‘Ar lath ma, vhenan.’ he replied softly ‘Ophelia, I will love you for an eternity.’ 

‘Then don’t go.’ I pleaded 'I refuse to stop loving you simply because I was forced into marrying Alistair. I won't ever stop loving you, no matter whether you leave or not.'

Rushing towards me Michel’s hands reached out to mine, fingers entwined before wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and scooping me up against him. 

'If I stay then my honour is forfeit, but I will do anything for you.’ he declared passionately. The chevalier’s mouth fell deeply onto mine, his suppressed feelings now pouring out kiss after kiss. ‘Vhenan’ara emma sa’lath.’ he whispered, sweeping my brown hair back with his strong hands, and placing another kiss on my hungry mouth ‘Emm’asha, ma’arlath ne’emma lath.'

The knight's exquisite full bottom lip pressed against mine, the warmth of his tongue gently going deeper as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. His heat radiated through the loose nightshirt and in his arms I felt safe. Maker how I’d missed that feeling of being held like that. 

‘Michel,’ I spoke between passionate kisses 'I know I cannot ask you to forsake what is apart of you. Your honour is important and I would not ask you to betray that for me.’

'You are more important to me, ma'arlath.' he declared 'My honour as chevalier comes secondary to my love for you.'. Michel looked anguished as he held my face in his hands. 'In truth I would do anything for you no matter the cost.'

Suddenly Michel fell to his knees, pulling me down beside him. The wooden floor was cold as we knelt on the hard boards. The knights hands clutched together graciously in prayer as his head bowed low, his long blonde hair falling down. ‘We will ask the Maker to forgive our actions,’ he announced reverently ‘and pray that he finds it in his heart to forgive us. The sins of my past caused the death of my wife, her sister and her husband. I swore never to commit the same sin, but my heart will betray me if I stay here with you. Of that I am certain.' ’

The knight appeared so sincere in his gesture that it made me feel terrible to be the reason he needed to pray. Yet I also knew it was not needed. Standing up, I refused to pray to a deity I did not believe in. After a life of being made to feel guilty I refused to be ruled by guilt any longer. 

‘As long as we can live with our decision, no forgiveness is needed. I love you, Michel. I have no shame in that.’

The knight continued to pray, a silent mouthing of words under his breath as his eyes lowered in respect. Crossing himself, he finally stood up to meet me. His expression was serious, as if the moments of silent contemplation on the floor had shone new light on the matter. ‘Ophelia, I cannot pretend that you were not with Cullen.’ informed Michel solemnly ‘I know that you loved him enough to leave me and agree to marry him. That is where your heart lies. That is who you love.’

Clutching my hair, I felt like ripping out the strands with frustration. How many times had we been here? Asking questions about love and truth? How many times had I given him cause to question it? And how many times had circumstances changed to justify it?

‘Must we live in the past forever?’ I appealed ‘Must I suffer always because of events out of my hands? Yes Cullen proposed and I accepted and we were happy. I loved him, this is true. You know I always have loved that man. However things happen. Cullen, my fiancé, agreed that I should marry Alistair Theirin. Cullen promised to come for me. And then it seems he had a family to attend to instead, and all promises were forgotten. Cullen broke my heart!’. Angrily I looked at the chevalier ‘I feel that I have the right to move on now and find happiness elsewhere. Cullen left me a long time ago. But you have been with me all along. You are here before me now, showing me what love truly is. And I love you so dearly for it.’

Closing my eyes I clenched my hands together and silently began to pray. I prayed to a Maker I did not believe in for a second chance at happiness. It was all I could do now. 

Gentle fingers directed my head upwards to a pair of welcoming lips, kissing me slowly. My eyes opened to a chevalier embracing me, holding me close to his pounding chest. 

'Ma vhenan, I am yours if you will have me?' declared Michel.

Nodding, I held him tight. 'Ma vhenan I am yours.' 

The chevalier fell against my mouth again, feverishly devouring it. His desire was overwhelming, and his hands revealed he yearned for me as they ran across my body. His lips fell to my neck, kissing deeply in the nook of my collar bone and running up to my ear, his warm breathe tickling my lobe as his whispered 'Let me be with you now, ma'arlath. Let us consummate our union together.'

My hands ran to the hard outline of his cock behind his black cotton trousers, answering his question. The smile on Michel's lips revealed he was pleased with this. His strong hands scooped my dress and lifted the material over my head. Quickly he removed his white tunic, his bare chest warm and burning with heat as my hands moved over his skin. Maker how I had missed that exquisite chiselled body, a perfect marble statue of a half elf warrior, all muscle and tightness and bulging in the right areas. 

Michel's hand clasped mine, pulling me down onto a rug before his fire place. With deft hands he removed what little attire I had left on, tossing aside cotton undergarments with great enthusiasm until I was bare before him.

The chevalier kissed me again as his hands ran over my nakedness, running his hands up my legs, across my belly and over my breasts. His lips fell hungrily, kissing eagerly where his hands left, soft lips tracing over hips, thighs and lingering at my intimacy. His lips ran across mine and hungrily the chevalier plunged through, his tongue eager to taste my desire. Running my arm over my eyes, I succumbed to the dark delirium of pleasure as Michel lapped at my clit with unbridled enthusiasm. The Orlesian in Michel always enjoyed playing with me like this, and several times I caught him smiling widely at me between licks, sucks and strokes of his inquisitive fingers, appearing very pleased with the situation. He whispered softly in Orlesian, about what I could only imagine, but the sound of his voice whispering sweet unknowns as he pleasured me made me hotter than ever. My chest rose and fell, growing faster and and faster as Michel kissed and licked. The chevalier grinned, pulling away before I succumbed to the moment.

His hands fell to his trousers and pulled out a giant stiffness that was more than ready to be entertained. 'Je bande pour toi.' he smiled pleasantly, holding his cock like a giant slab of Orlesian salami. 

Raising a brow, I grinned at the comment. 'And just what does that mean?'

His thick manhood fell against my stomach as he placed a kiss on my breasts and his hands danced lightly to my clit. 'It means I'm hard for you.' grinned Michel by my ear. 

Moving his hips to meet mine, the chevalier held his hard cock and stroked lightly along my labia. His breathing grew heavy as he eased in, pushing himself slowly before pulling back, only to push further. A teasing game of push and pull, ending in me grabbing his ass and pulling him deep.

Michel lips curled into a smile, a breathless laugh from the incredible sensation he was feeling. Indeed we both were delighting in the incredible feeling of connecting to each other once more after all this time. There was no way to forget how large the chevalier's dick was, but the incredible sensation now was a huge reminder. Thick and raw, it filled hard and deep. His blonde hair fell across my face, and the half elf began to rhythmically sink himself into me steady and hard, groaning on every thrust, his voice growing louder and louder in the room as he moaned mon dieu, mon dieu, mon dieu. 

His blue eyes were glazed with arousal as he stared into mine, fucking me at a slow and steady pace. 'Tu es l'amour de ma vie.' he whispered, placing a kiss on my lips. 

Breathlessly I cried out as he fucked harder, but I needed to know what he was saying. 'What does that mean?' I whispered back. 

Michel grinned, sinking himself harder into me. 'You are the love of my life.' he replied breathlessly.

The knight was now losing himself to his animalistic urges, succumbing to the desire that loses one's mind when in the heat of it. Unable to stop and contain the moment, Michel started to move his hips with deep thrusts, his nimble fingers falling low and rubbing my pearl. The thrusting and the teasing made me cry out as I came, and moments later the chevalier stiffened and released his seed in a moan of pleasure. We both succumbed to the moment, flying to heights that only the Maker entertained before coming back to the realm once more. 

'Halam'shivanas.' panted Michel, lowering his head to kiss my neck several times. His lips fell deep onto mine, kissing me with a moan as he pulled out of me. The knight eased off the floor, his chest still heaving and a wide mischievous grin on his face. Extending his arm politely, he pulled me up to him. 

'Am I going to have to bring a translator into the room with me every time me make love?' I teased. 

The knight chuckled. 'Halam'shivanas. The sweet sacrifice of duty.' answered Michel playfully. 

Raising a brow, I playfully squeezed his arse. 'Oh? So this is your performed duty that you speak of so fondly of back in Orlais?' 

Michel laughed, picking up my clothing and handing them over. 'No I save these services for royalty only.'

'I'd better not tell Alistair then.' I teased. 

Michel chuckled, but his smile faded somewhat as reality hit once more. The chevalier wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me to his chest. 'Mon cherie, you must be very careful with Alistair.' informed Michel seriously 'He is a good man, yes, but if anyone found out about us they would declare us both traitors to the crown. I do not know the ways in Ferelden, but in Orlais such a thing is punished by the guillotine.'

My heart sunk at the concept. 'That's horrid.'

The knight nodded. 'Yes ma'arlath, so you must swear not to tell a soul.' he warned 'In court you cannot trust anyone. Not a maid, close acquaintance, trusted stranger or friend. Not even a whisper to yourself when you think you are all alone. Anyone can turn on you and will for the right price.'

Pulling my dress back on with several tugs, I threw my companion a frown. 'That's comforting to know.' 

'It is better that you know it now than later, behind bars.' replied Michel, retrieving a fresh shirt and trousers from his wardrobe. The knight dressed himself promptly, finally pulling on a pair of black boots. 'We will always have opportunities to be alone, but always know there are eyes and ears always taking note within any castle. Remember I used to live in one, and I know the unsafest place to be is at a royal court. I beg you to take all precautions.'. Michel pointed a playful finger at me. 'That includes a promise right now you'll never come to my chambers like this ever again?'

'What, you didn't enjoy this visit?' I jeered.

A smile grew wide on Michel's jaw, his eyes looking away bashfully. 'Too much actually.' he replied happily 'I'll make sure we find other ways to be alone, mon cherie, don't worry. But you must let me arrange this, not you. I know the game better, and how to avoid suspicion. It will be difficult to see each other in the next few weeks. I think it will be hard for you and Alistair to be apart, there will be many engagements to attend.'

'Perhaps this will be a good time take that trip to Orlais?' I suggested 'I know you've wanted to see the Comte since Skyhold.'

The knight looked pleased at the suggestion. 'You make a good point ma'arlath. I would only go if you were comfortable with such an arrangement? If you want me to stay I will.'

'You're coming back, yes?' I grinned. 

Michel leant forward and placed a kiss on my lips. 'Of course, I am Her Majesty's most faithful subject.' he whispered in my ear.

'Good.' I whispered back. Looking into his blue eyes, I smiled. 'Thank you for being here with me.'

The chevalier kissed my hand. 'Ma vhenan, for you I am here always. My heart is yours.'

'And mine yours.' I replied. Looking at the door, I frowned.

'You should return before you are noticed missing.' added Michel gently.

Wrapping my arms around the chevalier, I hugged him tight. 'Not yet.' I murmured into his chest 'Before I go let me hold you a little while longer.'


	90. The Mirth of Deception

_ _

_ _

_Raise your cup to the king and queen,_   
_to Ferelden and it's people,_   
_drink now to better days ahead,_   
_King Alistair and Queen Ophelia have wed._

_ _

_One king who slayed the Arch Demon,_   
_One queen who slayed the Elder One,_   
_Standing strong to fight the good fight,_   
_to protect us folk both day and night._

_ _

_A Theirin king has now returned, _   
_a golden era has now dawned,_   
_his Inquisitor love now his bride,_   
_two heroes now side by side!_

_ _

_Raise your cup to the king and queen,_   
_to Ferelden and it's people,_   
_drink now to better days ahead,_   
_King Alistair and Queen Ophelia have wed!_

_ _

The wedding banquet that night at Denerim Palace was a spectacular affair. The city itself was deep in celebration before the sun had even set, with The Pearl and The Gnawed Noble Tavern providing free ale and cake to the residents of the city. Every shadowy lane way was now filled with brightly burning torches, lively music, dancing, and laughter. The women and children wore wreathes of wild flowers on their heads, and the men sported blossoms in their torn jackets. Dog barked excitedly, cat's scattered away into the shadows and the children clapped their hands in delight as a parade of juggling Antivan acrobats, brightly dressed Orlesian troubadours and Tevinter mystics carrying snakes around their necks came marching into the town square to begin a night of festivities.

Three cheers to the King and Queen!

It had been nearly twenty years since the last royal marriage between King Cailan and Queen Anora, and although it had been a magnificent wedding it had been too many years since such a great day of celebration. The people were desperate to enjoy another royal union; the marriage of King Alistair Theirin to the Inquisitor, Ophelia Trevelyan. 

At Denerim Palace; the main hall, dining room and several sitting parlours were now filled with large feasting tables laden with exotic foods from all across Thedas. Delicacies from all corners of realm were generously offered to the swarm of nobility from across Thedas that came to attend the royal wedding. 

While the feasting was enjoyed inside the castle, the palace gardens had been transformed into a maze of beautiful lit lanterns, lighting up the night in a spectacular golden glow. The fountains splashed with cool water on this particularly warm and very pleasant evening, and many of the dinner guests had already retreated into the greenery after the main meal to let their dinner settle. 

Michel de Chevin has long desired some time away from the royal festivities and had spent the better half of the evening sitting in the gazebo along with Jowan. Despite the chevalier knowing where Ophelia's affections truly lay, it somehow made it even harder to watch her sit beside another man and toast to him throughout the night. 

As a result of this, the chevalier decided to get some fresh air instead. Although Michel was not the only one eager to get away from the banquet. Jowan too had been desperately trying to hide from Eamon Guerrin the entire night. The mage explained to Michel that poisoning someone was always going to be awkward after the event, to which the knight threw a displeased look in response and mentioned something about knowing exactly how Eamon felt. Jowan apologised dryly, saying that he could not return such empathy with Michel as he did not know how it felt to be in love with another man's wife. At that point the pair decided that perhaps judging one another was not the best way forward, and resided to put aside their differences for the night. 

With a bottle of Orlesian port between them, Michel and Jowan sipped away silently and listened to the harp being played by the fountain. By and by, however, their solitude was disturbed by the one person they were unable to not ignore. A man dressed in royal gold and white ceremonial plate armour, with a gold crown adorning his head.

King Alistair had been taking a turn in the gardens, greeting guest after guest after guest with smiles and polite conversation. He appeared at ease in his new role, yet his route through the garden led suspiciously close to the gazebo. Alistair spotted Michel and Jowan watching from afar and made his way over, appearing eager to join the pair in their secluded hideaway. 

The chevalier sighed, taking another sip of port. 

'Not the company you were hoping for?' mumured Jowan under his breath, throwing a teasing look to the knight.

'Not another word or I'll go find Eamon and bring him here to drink with us.' retorted the chevalier quietly. 

Michel and Jowan arose from their seats, bowing as the king approached. Alistair chuckled, nodding in acknowledgement. ‘Well, I see we all share the same idea? A break from the festivities...and all those annoying people.’

With a brilliant smile, Michel laughed merrily at the observation as he warmly clutched Alistair on the arm and bestowed a polite embrace to the king. ‘Not at all Your Majesty, it is an absolutely delightful wedding! Congratulations are in order.’

‘Yes congratulations on your wedding, Your Majesty.’ added Jowan politely ‘The invitation was very generous of you to include me…..considering all things that have transpired.’

‘That’s one way of putting it.’ observed Alistair with raised brows 'Eamon and Isolde may never speak to me again for doing that.' The king sat beside Jowan. ‘Eamon has reason to despise you, but don't worry I am a little more forgiving. In light of your close friendship to my wife-.’ Alistair faltered, growing quiet. 

Michel and Jowan exchanged an uneasy looks. They both knew Alistair was not referring to Ophelia but his former wife, Sierra, and her close friendship to Jowan.

‘You are very good.’ acknowledged Jowan quietly ‘Forgive me, but I can only imagine your wedding today must bring both joy and with it, sadder memories. Memories of Sierra. That is only natural.’

Michel looked over to the mage in surprise, as if impressed by his poignancy on such a delicate matter. 

Alistiar appeared to appreciate the comment also. ‘Sierra spoke of you often, you know?’ observed Alistair ‘Can’t say my first impression of you was a good one, being imprisoned in Redcliff Castle and poisoning the Arl. Was a little annoying having to clean up that mess. But Sierra would always talk about you so fondly, almost as a sibling. She regarded you to be her only true friend at the circle. Two peas in a pod.’

Jowan appeared entertained at the observation. ‘Two troublesome peas in a pod.' he mused 'Although she saved my life on more than one occasion, as I’m sure you recall. Even before I found myself in a cell she was one of the main reasons I survived all my years in the Ferelden Circle. We both had little to thrive off in there but thankfully we had each other. Although I suspect we both led each other a little astray.....’

‘That’s one way of putting it.’ muttered Michel under his breath.

‘People can change for the better.’ replied Jowan, looking at Michel seriously ‘I’d like to think I am one of them. Things are different now than they were back then.’

‘Yes and now you're hurled up in Skyhold.’ observed Alistair dubiously 'How is the keep these days?'

‘Cold,’ replied Jowan with a smirk ‘yet the snow has melted at this warm time of year....so perhaps we should leave it at that. Although I’m certain you can tell how appreciative I am to receive an invite away from the Inquisition?’

‘And good timing too, I’m guessing?’ acknowledged Alistair ‘I hear Cullen and Leliana are running the Inquisition these days?’

‘When weren’t they?’ obserevd Michel cynically 'If there was ever a moment when they weren't pulling the strings I never saw it.' 

'Power is a dangerous thing in the hands of any mortal.' Jowan observed quietly.

Alistair nodded. 'Being king makes me understand that more and more each day. Although I feel a responsibility to my people will always keep me in check. Cullen and Leliana serve no one but themselves.'

'No truer words were spoken.' agreed Michel. Taking a sip of the port, he smiled to his companions. ‘Here’s to being far far away from those two, if only for a while.’

Alistair silently raised his glass and drained it swiftly.

Jowan looked from Orlesian to Ferelden and chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Well it's nice to know all share a common ground.’

Alistair scoffed at the comment. ‘Hating Leliana and Cullen? I'd like to find someone who doesn't?’

Michel lifted his glass. ‘Salut.’ he remarked before drinking again. The chevalier began to laugh, covering his amusement with his frilled sleeve.

‘What?’ grinned Alistair, helping himself to the port beside the knight 'I could do with a good laugh.' 

‘Nothing.’ replied Michel, unsuccessfully trying to conceal his amusement as he broke out into even louder laughter. He looked at Jowan with a wide grin, unable to suppress his cheer. 

Alistair pointed a finger at the chevalier with a smirk. ‘Okay that’s it. As king I order you to tell me what is funny.’

Michel flashed a brilliant white smile, appearing apologetic at the same time, waving his hand as he tried to regain composure. ‘I am sorry Jowan,' exclaimed Michel 'I must tell Alistair now.'

Jowan appeared puzzled. 'Tell Alistair what?'

Michel shivered dramatically, pretending to be rather abhorred to relay the story. 'About you.....and a certain spymaster’

The mage rolled his eyes, crossing his arms curtly. ‘Don’t remind me.’ he muttered ‘And spare His Majesty, I beg you. I don’t think Alistair wants to talk about this nonsense at his wedding celebration.’

Alistair settled back in his seat, preparing himself for some juicy gossip. ‘No this is rather more interesting than listening to Bann Edward and Ser Ryan talking about Ferelden trading. Now that is something I don’t want to speak about at my wedding banquet.’

The chevalier chuckled and Jowan looked even more irritated. 

‘Should I be the one to point out that you were praising Leliana the entire night?' quipped Jowan.

‘Yes but I wasn’t the one who….’. Michel went silent, raising a brow. ‘...you know.’

Looking at Jowan uneasily, Alistair appeared apprehensive to say it out loud. He cast his brown eyes around the gazebo looking for eavesdroppers before leaning forward on his seat. In a hushed voice, Alistair asked the unspeakable question. 

‘Are you telling me you slept with Leliana?’

Michel smiled pleasantly, tilting his head and waiting for the mage to answer.

Jowan now appeared very annoyed at the pair, his black eyes glaring at them in defence. ‘Oh yes because I’m the first person to ever have done something regrettable whilst intoxicated.’

‘Yes but….Leliana?’ remarked Alistair uncertainly 'She is a little scary.'

Jowan took several sips from his goblet, hiding his annoyance behind his cup. Yet he was unable to contain his frustration, and decided to rant instead. ‘It was an Orlesian dinner party and we were drinking heavily. And you know what those Orlesian nobles are like, you’re already down two bottles and the entrees haven’t even come out yet. And the wine is strong, much stronger than Ferelden wines.’

‘Ah so the wine made you do it.’ Michel teased, exchanging an amused look with Alistair.

‘Well what’s your excuse for all the honeyed words so gratuituisly bestowed upon her that night?’ retorted the mage sharply. He turned to Alistair, nodding at the king. ‘Oh yes you should have heard this one on the night. Leliana you are so enchanting. So beautiful. Sooooo captivating.’

Michel frowned, catching Alsitair’s mortified expression that was now turned on him. ‘I wasn’t myself that night.’ explained the chevalier quickly.

‘Apparently not.’ scoffed Jowan. 

‘So let me get this straight. You both have a thing for Leliana?’ Alistair grimaced ‘You think you know someone.’

‘No!’ replied Michel and Jowan at the same time.

Alistair laughed at the swiftness of their reply.

‘And to be quite honest I don’t even know why I did it.’ added Jowan defensively ‘Leliana was the one coming after me that night.’

‘Must have been desperate times for you.’ muttered Alistair, causing Michel to burst out laughing. The king grinned. ‘So when did this happen? Don’t tell me you’ve been harbouring some affection for the woman since you met her in the cells at Redcliff all those years ago? That is a little disturbing.’

‘Not at all, I assure you.’ replied Jowan adamantly.

‘Actually it happened this year.’ informed Michel. ‘Jowan, Leliana and I had business in Orlais and we were invited to dinner at an estate there. It was such a strange night. Leliana was by all accounts…charming. And between us three there was no reason for it. Appealing attire on a dragon does not render the dragon more appealing. Yet she was on that night.’

‘Wasn’t she.’ muttered Jowan, sounding as if he still could not fathom it. ‘Yet the next day….nothing but a dragon.’

‘Too much wine.’ resided Michel with a shrug ‘I had the worst Orlesian flu the morning after that horrid affair. That was the last time I touched a drop of Orlesian port. I used to enjoy a glass every night before bed when reading a book and now it has been several months and-’. The chevalier suddenly went silent, his cup dropping heavily onto his knee. ‘Mon dieu…’ he whispered, suddenly letting go of the cup. It crashed onto the stone floor of the gazebo with a loud clank.

Somewhat perplexed, Jowan and Alistair watched as the knight’s porcelain skin turned a deathly shade of grey. His blue eyes appeared fearful as he stared towards Jowan. 

The mage flung a hand at Michel. ‘You see, this is why I appeal to His Majesty to ignore what our chevalier says about the matter. It’s all drama, look at how well he acts!’ Jowan chuckled, rolling his eyes ‘Dropping his cup for theatrical effects. Hasn’t had Orlesian port for a while and you’d think the end of the world is upon us now.’

Alistair grinned. ‘He’s right Michel, Orlesian port isn’t that good.’

‘Orlesian dramatics.’ Jowan teased.

‘Orlesians and their port.’ mused Alistair 'Seen one, you've seen them all.'

‘I was more of a fan of Nevarren port personally.’ observed Jowan ‘Orlesian port lacks the spice of their northern neighbours. I'm sorry Michel, perhaps I shouldn't be confessing that in front of you?’

The knight suddenly stirred from his shock. ‘Jowan.’ spoke Michel quietly ‘How many months exactly has it been since you slept with Leliana?’

Jowan looked surprised at the direct nature of question. He tilted his head in curiousity, as if he did not know why Michel would care to learn such details. However soon the mage’s eyes narrowed as he realised what Michel was inferring by such a question. ‘She was pregnant at the time we were together Michel. An unfortunate fact that I learned after the deed. Of course we all know our Spymaster is more than capable of it.’

Alistair coughed into his drink, spluttering at the mage's comment. 'She was pregnant already?'

Michel did not look convinced. ‘Leliana told you that then? After you slept with her she told you she was already pregnant? And you believed her?’

Jowan shook his head, raising his hands to silently quash any doubt on the matter. ‘Of course she was. Leliana had come to me a few weeks prior and told me she was carrying Cullen’s child.’

‘I thought you just said she told you that after you slept with her.’ Alistair remarked in apparent confusion.

‘Well yes she did but-‘. Jowan sighed, placing his goblet down beside him and giving the men his full attention. ‘Look this is how it went. Leliana told me few weeks before our night together that she was carrying Cullen’s child, and then she told me she had lost the child.’

Michel and Alistiar threw each other an easy look. 

‘But it was a lie.’ explained the mage hastily ‘She was going to abort the child but in the end decided to keep the child.’

‘So why did she tell you she had lost it?’ asked Michel, looking completely baffled ‘Why would she say that if she was still with child?’

‘She said in her head, at the time, the baby no longer existed.’. Jowan waved his hand ‘I know how it sounds but she was with child...she was’

‘Why did she want to abort Cullen’s child?’ frowned Michel ‘That makes no sense?’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that Cullen was in love with someone else put a dampener on the whole situation. It matters not, she was pregnant.’

‘You don’t sound very convinced.’ observed Alistair uneasily.

Jowan demeanour grew a little crisper. ‘I assure you I am.’

‘And your proof?’ Michel asked uncertainly. 

Jowan turned icily at the knight. ‘She had no reason to lie’ 

‘That woman has no reason to tell the truth.’ scoffed Michel ‘Tell me, how long ago did she first tell you she was pregnant with Cullen’s child?’

‘I don’t know.’ muttered Jowan, cradelling his temples as if now suffering from a large headache. The mage shrugged. ‘I suppose it would have been…’. Jowan hesitated. ‘…almost ten months ago.’. It was now Jowan’s turn to grow peaky and deathly quiet.

‘She told you she was pregnant ten months ago?’ Michel hissed, disbelieving his ears ‘Jowan do you realise what this means?’

‘And how long has it been since you slept with her, Jowan?’ interjected Alistair. He and Michel exchanged a fearful look, as if they already knew what the mage was going to say

‘Who takes note of these things?’ dismissed Jowan, who shook his head not wanting to answer the question. 

‘How long Jowan?’ Michel asked fearfully ‘It doesn’t matter, I already know the answer to that.’. He paused, counting silently in his head. ‘Yes it has been nearly nine months since we were at that Orlesian dinner party. Eight months and two weeks I think?’

‘Leliana is considered quite overdue at the moment.’ murmured Jowan ‘At least four weeks or there abouts.’

‘Maker I can't believe it.’ exclaimed Alistair, looking completely gobsmacked. ‘Why would Leliana say she was pregnant with Cullen’s child if it was in fact Jowan's?’ 

‘To keep Cullen, of course.’ Michel answered bluntly ‘That woman would do anything to keep the Commander and considering he was in love with Ophelia, she knew a child would be the only way to do it.’

Alistair shrugged, pointing to the silent mage. ‘Yes but why sleep with Jowan? Surely if she wanted a baby any man’s would do? Why did she want Jowan to be the father?’

Jowan swept a hand though his long black hair in agitation. ‘Because I am not the father. We must stop this nonsense right now. After Leliana and I slept together she apologised, saying she was pregnant with Cullen’s child but was attracted to me. That is all that happened. We had too much to drink and spent one night together. Regretable to be certain, but there is nothing else to it. That is all.’

‘Leliana was attracted to you? Not Cullen? That sounds a little unbelievable coming from her.’ pointed out Michel 'You must know how obsessed she is with the Commander?'

‘Perhaps she finally realised Cullen was not interested in her as much as Ophelia?’ quipped the mage ‘Perhaps she sought to cut herself free from that man?’

‘And has she been able to control herself since?’ Alistair asked skeptically ‘Has there been any sign that Leliana is actually attracted to you.’

‘Of course not, she is back with Cullen and having his child.’ retorted Jowan.

‘That’s not what the king was asking.’ interjected Michel uneasily ‘Has Leliana shown you any interest since that night Jowan? Any sign of partiality? Attraction does not simply diminish.’

Jowan looked the pair, anxiously pulling at his sleeve. ‘Look I know what this looks like but I assure you-‘

‘Jowan has she or not?’ Michel asked impatiently. 

‘Not.’ replied Jowan icily ‘That does not mean she is carrying my child. Do not…no, I do not even wish to say the words. With all respect, you both must stop with this. Even a hint of such a rumour would be horrendous to deal with. Leliana is having Cullen’s child. That is that.’

‘Cullen’s ten month old child that still hasn’t been born?’ observed Michel doubtfully ‘I don’t know much about infants but I know they generally arrive earlier than that. Unless the mother is lying about when the child was actually conceived in order to keep a father around.’

Alistair nudged his head towards the chevalier. ‘You have to admit he has a point there?’

‘Maybe Leliana was mistaken on the dates?’ quipped Jowan ‘Who’s to know how far along she was when she told me.’

‘Yes but that would make the child even older than it is now.’ pointed out Alistair ‘Cullen left Leliana at the same time she claimed she was pregnant. But if she was further along than she thought, the baby would well and truly be here. If she was not as far along as she said, she would be not pregnant to Cullen….but to you.’

The knight looked to the mage, his face solemn as if informing someone of a beloved’s death. ‘Leliana could be having your child.’ observed Michel seriously ‘I am sorry but for whatever reason it could be likely that she is.’

‘I need some air.’ murmured Jowan, standing up abruptedly. 

'Arent you already outside in a gazebo?' pointed out Alistair.

'Less air then.' retorted Jowan sharply 'Inside my room and away from this ludicrious discussion.'

‘Jowan wait.’ called out Michel ‘I know this is a shock to us all but you cannot ignore facts.’

Holding up his hand sharply, Jowan threw an angry pair of eyes to the knight. ‘No!’ he snapped ‘I’ve heard enough for one night. Not another word.’. Bowing stiffly to the king, he added curtly 'Forgive me Your Majesty'. And with that, Jowan stormed off through the bushes, back towards the castle.

Looking to Michel, Alistair was speechless.

‘I can’t believe it either.’ agreed Michel, silently anticipating what the king was going to say.

'Talk about the shock of a lifetime.' muttered Alistair 'Can't blame the man for wanting to deny something like that.'

The chevalier picked up his cup off the ground, brushing off the dust. 'All this time gone by and I completely forgot about that trip until now.'

‘Did anything else happen during your journey?’ asked Alistair ‘Anything out of the ordinary that would suggest Leliana was after Jowan?’

Michel frowned, trying to recall anything that would shine light on the matter. He shook his head. ‘No we travelled to Orlais like any other trip, stayed at the Laurent household and then returned to Skyhold. Leliana was not acting strange, I suppose she and that rather negative witch kept to themselves on the roads. But that is women, no?'

‘Witch?’ queried Alistair 'Leliana travels with a witch these days?'

‘Her name is Morrigan.’ answered Michel, looking as if he did not approve ‘Took a great dislike to me for some reason. Apart from that I know little of the woman.’ 

Alistair’s eyes darted up at mention of the name. ‘Morrigan?! The same Morrigan that used to live in the wilds near Ostagar?’

The chevalier nodded, not appearing too concerned. ‘I believe so. Morrigan and Leliana met each other during the Blight. They travelled together for some time and I assume developed a friendship along the way.’. Michel looked up in surprise. ‘Oh I beg your pardon, I quite forgot! Of course you were there with them. You must know her quite well then?’

‘Yesssss, something like that.’ replied Alistair, taking another sip from his cup ‘Can’t say I miss seeing that one.’

Michel commenced pouring the port. ‘Well then I suppose that is why she joined Leliana on that journey, although it was strange to see Morrigan come with us. The journey was official chantry business, I just came along because of my connections to the Laurent family. Morrigan never came to dinner that night either, so she was not there on any social reason. It is strange to travel all that way and then refuse a dinner invitation.’

‘Perhaps she was unwell?’ Alistair suggested.

Michel shook his head. ‘No she was perfectly fine from what I saw. Very fiesty on the road.’

With a frown, the king looked away. ‘Surely it couldn’t be that.’ he murmured to himself ‘Surely not? How would Leliana even know about that night?’ 

‘Your Majesty?’ inquired Michel politely 'Is something the matter?'

Alistair appeared troubled as he struggled with a possibility that lay before him. ‘Tell me Michel, have you seen much of Morrigan aside from that trip to Orlais?’

The knight contemplated the question. ‘She is solitary I suppose, but Skyhold is only so big. I bumped into her on occasion when I was living at the keep.’ 

Alistair's brown eyes looked directly into the chevalier’s. ‘Morrigan is living in Skyhold?’

‘Is that a problem?’ asked Michel hestitantly, appearing confused to Alistair's sudden interest. 

‘Tell me Michel, and you must tell me the truth. Did Morrigan bring anyone else with her to Skyhold?’ asked Alistair fearfully 'Anyone at all? A child perhaps?'

Michel nodded in surprise. ‘Why yes? She came with her son Kieran.’

The king looked completely stunned, as if someone had just slapped in in the face. ‘And how old is….Kieran?’ asked Alistair apprehensively.

‘I believe he is eleven?’ answered Michel, looking utterly perplexed. ‘Your Majesty is everything alright? You look quite out of spirits all of a sudden.’

Alistair remained quiet, his hands falling to his head as he went deep in thought. Finally the king looked up, a small smile on his face. ‘It appears Jowan is not the only one to discover he is a father to a child this night.’ exclaimed Alistair ‘What a fool I have been to think nothing would come of it?.’

‘Forgive me, I confess I am a little confused?’ remarked Michel, a curious smile on his face.

‘Come, pour yourself another glass Michel.’ ordered Alistair ‘Not a word of this to anyone else. There is much to tell and I know you are a trustworthy ear to hear me out.’

  
*****

  
Jowan’s mind raced, pacing back and forth in his room in between throwing silk shirts and lace cravats into his pack. He needed to return to Skyhold as soon as possible and get some real answers.

It could not be. It could not be.

‘Of course it could be and you damn well know it!’ Jowan chastised himself, grabbing several loose scrolls off the table. ‘You absolute mutton head, what were you thinking?’

The mage knew it was quite possible that he and Leliana had conceived a child, and if that were the case he would soon be a father to the child of the Divine. The concept sounded completely ludicrous to the mage, and yet the simple facts suggested it was quite possible. By Michel’s calculations it was more than possible.

Jowan bit his lip, retuning to his hasty packing. He would sleep off the wine he'd been enjoying that night and first thing tomorrow ride back up that mountain to clear up all this nonsense. 

  
****

  
‘Ir abalas Alistair, you have carried a heavy burden here.’

Completely amazed at the story just told to him, Michel ran an uneasy hand through his blond hair. Through many glasses of port Alistair had explained his entire involvement with Morrigan, from the moment they had come across each other in the Arbor Wilds until the time she had slept with him the night before he fought the arch demon. The story seemed the stuff of exaggeration, something Michel would have expected to hear from Varric late at night after one too many ales. However Michel knew Alistair was a man of honesty, and if he said it was the truth then it was the truth. 

Alistair and Morrigan had conceived a child with wild magic weaved by the witch herself. And by all accounts it appeared she may have done the same favour for Leliana and Jowan. But why? And at what cost?

Alistair looked lighter of heart, as if telling this terrible secret took a weight off his shoulders. ‘You must believe me when I say I did not wish to think about that night after it happened. And that was easy enough to do, what with fighting the darkspawn and defeating the arch demon. By the time it was over, Morrigan was long gone. And with her assurance that I would never see the child. And considering that was that, I was never certain she ever had the child.’

‘So are you were certain Morrigan has your child now?’ asked Michel.

The king raised his brow. ‘This is Morrigan we’re talking about. She and her mother were not exactly the mothering types. I assumed the child did not exist. But if Kieran is as old as you say he is then he was conceived by me on that night.'

Michel scratched his light stubble on his jaw, contemplating the situation. 'I am told she ended up as court mage to the late Empress Celene. She must have arrived in Orlais just after I left?'

'No one ever saw Morrigan after that, so that is news to me.' replied Alistair 'You can imagine my surprise to learn that she is living at Skyhold now, somewhat right under my nose wouldn't you say? And with my son, no doubt!’. Alistair gasped, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Maker’s breath, I was at Skyhold several months back and my son was there at the keep all along, My son…I have a son. My son, Kieran.’. A fond smile fell across Alistair's lips, and he turned to Michel with light in his eyes. ‘You’ve seen Kieran. Tell me, what does he look like? Maker help me I would ride out to Skyhold this very instance to see him.’

Michel smiled, crossing his arms in amusement. ‘Well come to think of it he looks a lot like you.’

‘Does he really?’ chuckled Alistair, looking very pleased.

The chevalier nodded. ‘He appears very Ferelden. Tall and thin, with pale skin and brown hair as is yours. Ah but his eyes are golden brown, like that of a hawk. Very alike Morrigan’s.’

Alistiar chuckled ‘Maker help me, a small version of me with Morrigan’s eyes. I need to meet this lad.’. Wiping a tear from his eye, Alistair waved his hand. ‘Ah pay no attention to me, I get emotional when I’m extremely happy. Maker how strange that is to say? I am happy. To know some good has come from that terrible time. To know that I have a son. That my son now lives in Skyhold on Ferelden soil. I never knew how pleased I would be to learn such a thing.’

‘Does this change things regarding any children you may have in later days?’ asked Michel curiously 'Kieran would be the first in line to the throne.'

‘Knowing Morrigan, the last thing she intends for her son to do is to step into a formal position of duty.’ muttered Alistair ‘That woman is headstrong and will not care to aid Ferelden. However you are right. Kieran is first born in the Theirin blood line. He can never escape that, as I came to learn all too well.’

Alistair stood up, clasping Michel warmly on the arm. ‘Thank you my friend from the bottom of my heart. To think had I not tried to escape my wedding guests I may have never known…’

‘That Jowan slept with Leliana?’ grinned Michel.

‘Terrible, I know?’ replied Alistair, rolling his eyes. His bemused face transformed into a frown, looking out back to the castle. ‘Can I ask you a favour?' he added seriously 'That you won’t mention any of this Leliana and Jowan business to Ophelia. If she finds out that Jowan might be the father I fear-‘

‘-that she’ll run back to Cullen?’. Michel nodded, understanding all too well. ‘I think it’s for the best also. Until Jowan settles this matter with Leliana we really have no proper understanding of what has happened. Perhaps it’s better to remain unknown.’

Alistair scoffed. ‘That child is not Cullen’s, that's as clear as day. I’m not a betting man, but I would bet my entire kingdom that Leliana tricked Jowan into sleeping with her and Morrigan was there to ensure a child was conceived. The way you both describe being suddenly attracted to Leliana for one night. Come now, that is a prime example of magic. Creepy magic. And I know one woman who does creepy rather well.’

‘I do not doubt it for a mimute.’ agreed Michel ‘Truth aside, it matters little whether Leliana has Jowan or Cullen's child. What matters is I do not wish Cullen to ever lay his hands on Ophelia ever again.’. The knight looked to Alistair seriously. ‘You are her husband now and you must take care where Cullen is concerned. He holds a spell over her.’

'I understand, and believe me I intend to protect my wife at all costs.' Alistair replied ‘Thank you my friend. Now as much as I would rather chat with you all night, I must go and attend to my guests.’. The king nodded at the knight. ‘You are a good friend Michel, I appreciate it.’

As Alistair descended back through the garden, Michel settled back into his seat, his once pleasant smile now fading to a frown as the words echoed in his head.

You're a good friend Michel, I appreciate it.

The chevalier sighed, knowing he was anything but. He was, however, the man who had layed with Alistair's wife that morning before the king had even awoke. And he was the man who would happily do it again. And again. And again. 


	91. Supper in the Main Hall

  
The main hall at Skyhold was quiet that evening. Several mages were playing Wicked Grace at a table near the throne, laughing and cursing at the hands being played. Most of the residents were either tucked up into bed, patrolling the keep on night duty, or enjoying the ale flowing from The Herald’s Rest and The Cock and Bull. Yet in quietude the Commander found his solace, and he welcome the moment of peace where it was only the blazing fire before him to contend with. A bowl of Madame Ruthie's mashed Ferelden potatos in hand and a large flagon of ale sitting beside him, the Commander was quite content for the night. 

Laughter sounded from the mages playing cards, and Cullen turned to see several turning out their pockets to find anything to bet. The Commander's eyes drfited past the empty throne chair and his heart fell a little. It was there that Ophelia would sit, holding that begruding look whenever she was required to sit and judge a matter. She'd often confide to him how much she hated being asked to make decisions on matters she felt she had no right in deciding. Cullen would tease her about being the most hopeless Inquisitor in all of Thedas, and she in turn would threaten to make him come to her in judgement so she could order someone to cut off his head. 

Cullen chuckled, looking back to the flames. _Maker how he missed her._

The door from the side entrance of the hall opened, the one that had led up to the Inquisitor’s chambers, now claimed by another. Into the hall she stepped wearing a long red dress, heavy with child and cheeks glowing with health. Spotting the Commander before the fireplace Leliana waddled as quick as she could, which was significantly slower these days.

His amber eyes looked towards her before returning to his meal. ‘You should be resting. It’s no hour to be up and walking about the keep.’

‘You're up aren't you?’ quipped Leliana, taking a seat beside Cullen ‘Besides, the baby has been kicking me all evening. There is no chance of me being able to sleep.’. Her fingers tapped a little anxiously on the wood as her green eyes darted across the hall. It was evident other things were on her mind than just the baby kicking. ‘I....couldn’t help but notice you’ve already started packing your belongings in our room? Are you that keen to leave us all alone in this drafty old keep?’

The Commander chuckled, shaking his head. ‘And so the guilt begins. Leliana you know we had an agreement. I would stay here at Skyhold until our child is born. Then you and the baby would return to the Grand Cathedral in Orlais, and I would go west back to the Templar Order. You will be having this child very very soon, and I must be ready.’

‘Come back with me to Orlais.’ Leliana suggested ‘There we can be together as a family. I am Divine, remember? That position holds great influence. Give me a few months and I will secure a place for your Order to set up near by the Chantry.’

‘Yes I don’t think anyone could forget that you are the Divine.’ replied Cullen, raising his brow to the woman ‘Despite your offer, I hazard a guess any residence offered would be far from Ferelden, which is where the Order needs to be. Your influence as Divine holds little power over the King of Ferelden, and it is only he who can offer us his land.’

‘Why must you return to Ferelden?’ Leliana asked in annoyance ‘There is more to Thedas than just the red south.’

Trying to be as patient as he could at the end of another long day, Cullen grabbed his flagon and drank. His amber eyes stared into the flames, his mind already burdened and unwilling to be further burdened by this discussion. ‘Leliana I am head Knight-Commander of the Ferelden Templar Order. The men and women templars are from Ferelden. They have trained and lived here, with families situation in Ferelden. We are not apart of the Orlesian Templar Order, nor the Free Marches Order, nor any other sect of the Templar Order. We are the Ferelden Templar Order and we need to be in Ferelden.’

Leliana frowned. ‘I’m not a fool Cullen, I realise that much.’

Cullen shrugged. ‘You asked the question.’ 

‘What I meant was, maybe you yourself can spend some away from here.’ explained Leliana ‘You have a family to think about now.’

Cullen sighed, continuing to eat his meal. ‘There are many men and women in the Order that have children and families of their own and cannot always be with them. How would it look if the Knight Commander himself stepped away from his duties but he expected all those around him sacrifice time away from the ones they cared for?’

‘Who if not the head of the order should be allowed extra time away?’ scorned Leliana ‘At the very least you should take a few months to spend with the mother of your child and our infant? It is not unreasonable.’

Cullen placed his hand on her ripe stomach, his thumb gently rubbing the red velvet of her dress where her protruding belly button lay. ‘Leli please, what I do is not out of spite to you or this child. I would never abandoned my family. You know I would wish to be here protecting you both. My instincts as a father want to do this more than anything. But you know just as well as I that both of us have found ourselves in positions of great responsibility. It is a sacrifice we both made before this child was even conceived. Now please, this anger and stress does neither you nor our child any good. I am here now.’

‘And soon to be gone.’ grumbled Leliana.

‘This is what we agreed to, remember?’ reminded Cullen, a little more sternly ‘After the Inquisition disbanded I would inevitably have to return to the Order. Knight-Commander Rylen has been running things on his own for quite some time now and it is a large job. Maker knows he needs help. Hopefully we will secure Skyhold for the Order before too long, and the trip between here and Orlais is only a few days. It is not too far between us, you must remind yourself of this. I will come and see you and our child all the time, and you can come here. Things will all work out for the best.’

Pursing her lips, Leliana seemed persuaded by this rationale. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’ apologised Leliana ‘I know we agreed to this. I just want this child to grow up knowing it's father will be there.’

Cullen smiled at the woman. ‘Nothing could keep me away, don’t you worry.’

'Thank you.'. Running her hand through the Commander's sandy hair, she leant over to kiss him fondly on the cheek. ‘I love you more than anything in this world. Come, let us go bed.’

‘In a moment.’ nodded Cullen, standing up from his deat ‘I’ve a few matters to finish up back at my study before I retire. I’ll be in soon I promise.’. Placing a kiss on her cheek, he lingered by her ear. ‘Oh and I love you too Leli.’ he whispered, flashing her a wink as he walked away. 


	92. On Behalf of Another

Tapping the heel of her boot against the stone stairs, Cassandra impatiently waited outside the assembly room. Two Ferelden knights stood outside guarding the doors as the king sat in council within. The Seeker had been waiting all morning for a personal audience, yet her mind had been worrying about this moment for many days prior. The hours dragged but and the crease on her brow grew deeper and deeper. Truth be told, Cassandra had no personal business with the King of Ferelden. Instead she came to him on behalf of the Templar Order, and although she expected the meeting to be disastrous she had made a promise to Cullen that she would try.

The Commander was well aware that he stood no chance at stepping into Denerim Palace, let alone be granted a favour from Alistair. Yet Cullen believed in the Templar cause so much he was prepared to do anything to get the request to the king. Knowing that Cassandra was going to attend the royal wedding, Cullen had asked the Seeker to aid him. Cassandra had never seen Cullen more determined, and after several disturbing explosions in the mage tower at Skyhold that morning she was inclined to agree a templar presence was needed in the area.

The great wooden double doors finally clicked and opened, allowing several Ferelden lords and knights to exit the room. Cassandra nodded at Ser Perth who walked past her, and he bowed lowly and greeted her politely before continuing on with the party down the hallway.

'Lady Pentaghast?' called out a voice, and a familiar aged face appeared at the assembly doors; that of King Alistair's advisor, Eamon Guerrin. Spotting Cassandra waiting by the stairs, he motioned her forward graciously. 'King Alistair is ready to see you now.'

Making her way past the knights at the door, who gave her a small nod as she passed, Cassandra found herself in a large throne room. Alistair was standing by his throne chair, a friendly smile on his face as he waited for the woman to enter and the doors to close once more.

'Lady Cassandra it is good to see you once again.' greeted Alistair warmly with an extended hand 'How are you enjoying your stay at the Palace?'

The Seeker shook the king's hand firmly. 'It is always nice to travel on matters not related to the Inquisition. Thank you for receiving me this morning. And once again, may I offer my congratulations on your wedding.'

'Thank you.' replied Alistair, extending his arm to the table 'Please take a seat and let us talk. Forgive me if I appear a little rushed this morning, it appears the entire day is filled with meetings and work. Lucky me?'

Cassandra appeared to know all too well what Alistair was feeling. 'I can empathise with His Majesty.'

'After the impressive work you have done with the Inquisition you deserve a good holiday, my lady.'. Teagan arose from the table and bowed politely as the Seeker approached. 'It is good to see you again.'

'Arl Teagan.' smiled Cassandra a little more brightly. Although she would never admit it, Teagan reminded her of a character in her favourite book; Swords and Shields. A red haired warrior called Geatan who lived in a castle in the southern county. Considering Teagan and Geatan had the same letters in their name, and shared the exact physical appearance, she was certain Varric had used Teagan as his muse. However for what reason, and why, she did not know.

Promptly she sat herself down. 'I come here on behalf of another group, and I would ask your forgiveness in advance if any offence is taken by this. Believe me when I say that is not my purpose. I have the deepest respect for you and your kingdom.'

'This sounds like trouble?' joked Alistair, joining her at the table. Grabbing a pitcher of water, he politely poured them both a goblet. 'Don’t worry, I don't get offended that easily. Speak freely, for you are amongst friends.'

The look of Cassandra's stern brow suggested she did not feel like that was entirely true. 'In that case I shall be direct. I come on behalf of the exiled Order of Templars of Ferelden. They ask for your permission to be allowed to serve in the kingdom once more. They also ask for a portion of land in order to create a residence for the Order.'

Eamon coughed a little irritably in the background, pretending to be reading some parchments although it was obvious he was eavesdropping on the conversation and was not happy about it.

Alistair sighed, his eyes running from his uncle back to Cassandra. 'Well now this is a delicate matter, as you can well imagine? The initial reason for me removing the Templar Order from Ostagar was because the Order had welcomed back Red Templars in their ranks. The same Red Templars that were responsible for the murder of my people and the destruction of my lands, and so much more. I stand by my decision, their crimes forbid me from allowing them back in Ferelden without a proper trial.'

The Seeker nodded. 'That I understand. However there are many in the ranks that are not former Red Templars and seek only to continue the duties that they have performed their entire lives. Would you seek to keep out all templars from your kingdom?'

'No of course not.' frowned Alistair 'If the Order wishes to divide themselves then I will accept that and welcome them back. As I said, my actions at Ostagar were a warning to the Red Templars as members. Naturally being once apart of the Order, I can appreciate the importance of having a templar presence in the east. I would encourage more join the ranks and rebuild.'

'That is very good news.' replied Cassandra, appearing relieved. 'There are many templars that will be very pleased to know you feel that way. Which now comes to the other request. Of land that the Order can reside on whilst in Ferelden?'

'Can I assume the Order wishes to relocate back at Ostagar?' asked the King dryly 'You do realise that was not my decision to ever house the templars at Ostagar. I believe your Spymaster used her influence with the Chantry to secure that place for the Order.'

Alistair rubbed his jaw, looking to his uncle. Eamon shuffled through several piles of documents, withdrawing a map of Ferelden. The advisor rolled it out before them, placing paper weights on each corner.

'The late Queen Anora gifted that land to the Chantry.' informed Teagan curtly 'Fortunately we have now claimed it back.'

'If I may make a suggestion, Your Majesty?' asked Eamon 'Out of respect to your brother and the brave men and women who died at Ostagar, perhaps we should leave the area untouched? A place of peace for the resting souls who gave their lives?'

'That land has caused our kingdom nothing but trouble.' agreed Teagan 'There are tales of the Chasind long ago cursing the area. After all that has happened I tend to believe it more than ever.'

'Plus the land is riddled with darkspawn,' pointed out Alistair 'which makes me uneasy sending templars to live amongst them. The Grey Wardens would be a better fit, and I am inclined to encourage them to relocate there and rebuild a brighter history. Something to make us all view Ostagar in a better light, although without forgetting those who fell.'

Eamon frowned 'How many must fall before we realise that some places should remain untouched?'

Alistair shook his head. ‘What would you have me do uncle? Fence off the area and turn a blind eye? That is not how the Grey Wardens should be remembered. That is not what Cailan or Duncan would have wanted.’

'Of course if you leave Ostagar empty then the Imperial Highway goes unchecked.' pointed out Teagan 'Next thing you know darkspawn, highway men and Chasind will be controlling the South Passage. The merchants will refuse to travel past Redcliff, and the entire south will be in disarray.'

'And then the monsters will encroach further on our lands and kill more of our people.' muttered Alistair 'I'm sorry Eamon, we cannot leave Ostagar unguarded for too long. We must send word to the Grey Wardens that they can rebuild their Order there. I think Duncan and Cailan would have both approved of that. I only wish they had lived to see it.'

'That still leaves the Templar Order to relocate?' observed Cassandra, politely trying to steer the men back on topic.

Teagan chuckled 'And just when we thought we were done for the day?'

Alistair shook his head with a smile. 'Teagan you took the words out of my mouth. Guess we can't whip out the tea and bikkies just yet?'. The king returned his attention to the table, tracing a firm finger across the map before him. 'The Circle Tower is unoccupied?'

'Better suited for mages than training templars.' pointed out Eamon 'Of course the mages are welcome to use it?'

'The mages reside at Skyhold at present and I do not think you will find them going anywhere near Lake Calenhad in the foreseeable future.' informed Cassandra dryly 'The place holds…unpleasant memories, from what I hear.'

Teagan turned to Eamon curiously 'Didn't Connor mention joining some Order of mages up in the mountains? Was he talking about Skyhold?'

With a stiff lip Eamon nodded curtly, appearing as if he and his son had argued greatly on the matter. 'The lad mentioned some nonsense about it. I told him it was all hogwash but you know the boy. Always goes and does what he wants. He puffed out his chest and said he’d go, and I told him if he goes up there I won't come rescuing him from a crazy pack of cultists.'

Cassandra looked up at Eamon in surprise. 'The Mage Order at Skyhold is no cult. They are a very respectable group of mages led by a talented mage. Connor would be welcome there I am certain. '

Alistair and Teagan looked uneasily at each other.

'Ahhh what I think my brother is saying is perhaps he doesn't agree with the leadership of the Mage Order.' explained Teagan, throwing an apologetic smile to the Seeker. Teagan turned to his brother, waving him off. ‘Eamon please, she doesn’t know you or Connor’s past dealings with the blood mage.’

'Jowan has done a great deal for the Order?' observed Cassandra 'He discovered a formula for the potent healing potion that has saved thousands of lives and-'. Looking over at Teagan, she noticed the man silently making a gesture for her to stop talking.

'That Order is led by a cursed blood mage that tried to kill me!' blustered Eamon in annoyance 'And then my son, my son who almost died by that leech, wants to join a cult run by the same grubby scoundrel.'

'Maker's breath,' muttered Alistair, clutching his brow in agony 'uncle now is not the time for this.'

Infuriated by the outburst, the Seeker turned to Eamon. 'You forget that Jowan attempted to murder me also, and believe me I nearly died. That aside, I can still acknowledge the he is a powerful asset to the Mage Order.'

'Well that makes you a fool then.' dismissed Eamon 'You said it yourself, the cur is a murderer. Who cares if he has talent if his heart is as black as tar.'

'Perhaps I find it easier to not allow my emotions to control me when there is a job to be done.' retorted Cassandra starkly.

'A rule of thumb held by your rag taggle group, is it not?' quipped the old man 'The end justifies the means. Do what you must not matter the cost?'

'Would you have preferred that we didn't use the resources at hand and let Corypheus destroy Thedas?' asked Cassandra coldly 'Perhaps it is easy to cast judgement when you yourself were not risking your life each and every day.'

‘You think we here in Ferelden were just twiddling our thumbs while the Red Templars rampaged our lands?!’. Eamon took a step forward, seething with rage.

Alistair and Teagan jumped up from their seats, trying to get in between the two. 'Wow, okay we are saying a lot of things.' laughed Alistair nervously 'Let's all take a moment here.'

'West Hill?' suggested Teagan hastily, pointed to an area near the Waking Sea. 'Perhaps we could spare Fort Wrenst in the north?'

'It's too close to the Order in Cumberland.' replied Alistair 'The Templar Orders like to spread themselves out. It's more effective at controlling the use of magic that way.'

'Might I then suggest Skyhold?' proposed Cassandra, returning her attention to the map. 'The keep is an excellent place for training and with the Inquisition now disbanding, the area is very quiet.'

Alistair frowned. 'I thought you said the mages were situated there at the moment?'

Pulling a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the Seeker shifted a little irritably in her seat. 'That was never officially the case. Ophelia and Jowan brought the mages to Skyhold after they found themselves without a place to go. The Mage Order remains at Skyhold, for now.'

'Maker help us, you can't have a mage order and a templar order in Skyhold can you?' observed Teagan in amusement 'Can you imagine them working together?'

'Dinner time would be entertaining, wouldn’t it?' quipped Alistair 'You took the last chicken drumstick! What are you going to about it? Zap...mage turns templar into a frog.'

'Or a chicken?' quipped Teagan in amusement 'The mages find a remarkable solution to increase dinner rations whilst simultaneously reducing templars at the keep.'

'Curse them.' grumbled Eamon 'If the mages won't go back to the Circle tower where they belong then they bloody will just have to get along with the templars. We're not a charity here, gifting off all our land to a bunch of squabbling children.'

'That's one way of putting it.' mused Alistair under his breath.

‘Not that I come here on their behalf, but the Mage Order will also need an official presence in Ferelden.’ pointed out Cassandra ‘People being born with magic will happen with or without a circle, and it is better to have a place where the mage's can learn in a safe place. Skyhold appears to be that place at the moment and from what I have witnessed their numbers are significant and ever growing.'

'So mage and templar are both after Skyhold, aren’t they?' chuckled Teagan, crossing his arms comfortably 'Arguing over a same piece of the pie.'

Alistair groaned. ‘Maker help me I don’t want the templars and the mages after me on this one.'

‘The previous years have shown us how big a problem the templars and mages have been when they cannot get along.' warned Teagan 'You let them run amuck and they start hiding out in caves and burning down farmhouses. I do not like the fighting. There has to be a way to ensure that relationship is healed.’

Alistair looked up to his uncle, a sudden thought coming to mind. ‘You're right Teagan. The Templar Order and The Mage Order both deserve a place to reside, and I am happy to provide it on one condition. They work together. At Skyhold.’

The Seeker looked surprised. ‘Your intentions are pure but I fear the message that sends. It will be interpreted that the King of Ferelden desires to replicate a mage tower with templars guarding them.'

'Maybe we should?’ scoffed Eamon. 'Let's turn Skyhold into a circle tower. A massive one.’

Alistair stood up, turning to warm his hands by the fire. ‘No I’m doing the opposite of that. I'm proposing unity between the mages and templars before they begin causing chaos throughout my lands once more. Two Orders working together. Separate but unified. Neither has control over the other, and each maintains their freedom.’

'So you're teaching them a lesson?' nodded Eamon, appreciating the objective 'Learn to work with each other or do not work at all.'

Alistair shrugged 'It could work?'

Cassandra looked completely unconvinced. ‘King Alistair, while I understand the importance of uniting templars and mages, allowing templars to train around the mages would be unadvisable. It is in their nature to guard magic. They will see the mages as training tools or worse, as their prisoners.'

'At first perhaps, but they will learn.' pointed out Teagan 'Great changes are sometimes hard to adapt to at first, but over time-'

'Yes but Arl Guerrin you must appreciate that none of us here have magic in our veins.' she interrupted 'I fear we cannot fully empathise with the mages plight and therefore a decision made on their behalf could be detrimental.'

Teagan looked seriously at the Seeker. 'Perhaps we are not mages, Lady Pentaghast, but people in this room have friends and family that are. The king does not make this decision lightly, and without knowing it affects all those around him.'

Alistair nodded at his uncle. 'And imagine how powerful both Orders could be if they stood on equal ground and learned to work together? Imagine mages living in a realm where they did not fear templars? Not because they were free of them, but because the templars were simply another Order. As a templar I know magic will always be a threat and there is no reason for me to think otherwise. Maker knows I’ve seen it first hand with my own eyes. However I also know magic can aid us greatly, and does. The templars will always serve to protect us all from that dangers of improper magic, and the mages will always serve to benefit our way of life with magic.'

'And if the templar's refuse this offer?' frowned Cassandra.

Eamon appeared annoyed at the comment, rolling up the map before them abruptly. 'Then you can tell Knight-Commander Cullen to send you to somewhere else on his behalf and beg at their door.'

Teagan frowned. 'That is not very polite, Eamon.'

The old man waved his hand at the comment. 'Teagan when have you known me to suffer fools? That scoundrel has the nerve to send some woman to ask for a favour and you wonder why I am not being polite? Tell me, why does Cullen Rutherford send an Inquisition Council member on Templar matters? Why has he not come to Alistair himself? And tell me why we should reward this lily-livered wisp of a lout?'

Apparently vexed by his uncle's observations, Alistair's usually calm face grew deadly serious as he placed a firm finger on the map. 'This is not a reward for Cullen. This is about restoring a Templar Order, and one that I was once apart of. My relationship with the Knight-Commander is that of an enemy. Cassandra knows just as well as Cullen that if he dares step foot in Denerim I will run him through myself and leave him to bleed out in the main square. Don't think I won't.'

'I'd like to see it.' nodded Eamon in approval 'He deserves no less.'

The king turned away and remained quiet, as if he silently agreed.

'Yet he stands protected behind the skirts of the Divine these days, and that is a safe place to be indeed.' continued Eamon angrily 'Gets all the women to do his dirty work.'

The Seeker appeared irritated, turning to Eamon. 'Does me being a woman offend you?' she asked dangerously 'Or are you intimidated by females as a general rule?'

Teagan sank into his seat, tapping his empty cup in defeat. 'Can someone pour me a wine?'

'Enough Eamon!'. A stern expression now on his face, Alistair threw a glare at his uncle before turning to the Seeker. 'Lady Pentaghast, tell Cullen he can stay in Skyhold and run the Templar Order, but if he steps even a foot off that mountain his life is mine. He is not welcome in Ferelden. He is not welcome anywhere in my kingdom. I own Skyhold and he can stay as long as I choose and nothing more. At present I can only hope he rots in that keep until the end of his days.'

'You have every reason to be angry in that regards and once again I meant no offence.' apologised Cassandra 'What you have offered is more than generous. I thank his Majesty, on behalf of the Order and myself. Now if that is all, I will return immediately to Skyhold and relay the offer made today to both the mages and the templars.'


	93. In Darkness

The journey across the sunburnt plains was a lonely one, but it did not come a moment too soon. Jowan rode hard with several Chantry escorts following him closely for protection, and the bite of the southern wind nipping at his heels. He hated the way the escorts always lingered close by, never giving him the isolation he craved. Being alone made him feel safe. Unexposed. Now Leliana plagued his mind and the Chantry guarded him day and night, and there was nothing he could do about it.

As evening approached the escorts protested his insistence that they continue riding, demanding he rest for the night before ascending the mountain path. The mage refused their advice. One of the guards grizzled that the mage did not appreciate the dangers of the area, and Jowan sharply informed him that this had once been his home and that he strongly advised the guard keep his mouth shut or learn firsthand what he was doing out here. An uneasy silence prevailed.

For Jowan the risk of being attacked by mountain wolves and brown bears did not compare to the fear of sleeping another night without closure. The gravel crunched under hooves and howls sounded in the darkness as he pressed on. White knuckled cold hands clutched the reins as the mage finally rode in through the gates of Skyhold just after midnight. The night watch waved the party through, and they galloped into the familiar stables.

Dismounting his black horse, Jowan clicked his fingers several times at the lonesome stable boy warming his hands by a pit fire. 'Take my bags to my quarters.' he ordered sharply before turning away.

Flying across the courtyard like a furious shadow and up the steps of the battlements, Jowan headed towards Leliana’s study. One bored looking guard was resting against the parapet, smoking a pipe. He looked up in surprise as he saw the mage approach.

‘Master Jowan!’ exclaimed the guard ‘You’re up late working again I see?’

Jowan begrudgingly slowed his pace. ‘I’ve just returned from my travels. Forgive me, I’m hoping to find Leliana so I can’t stop and chat.’

‘Nay you won’t find her in her study.’ affirmed the guard, tapping his pipe against the stone. ‘Don’t think she’ll be working for a while now, although you can never tell with that one, eh?’ the guard chuckled.

Jowan impatiently crossed his arms, waiting for elaboration.

Clicking his fingers, the guard nodded. ‘My apologies I forgot you weren’t here. Mistress is having the baby. Been in her chambers for a good day now.’. The man shuddered ‘Heard some screams earlier. Reminded me when my wife had our boy Graith. I never screamed that loud in my life.’. The guard lifted his arm, rolling back his sleeve. ‘Still got the scars where her nails cut me. Never would have agreed to be in the room had I’d known the banshee would do that to me.’

Jowan grew silent, his heart pounding in his chest.

‘Master Jowan?’

‘Yet again the fates silently mock me, but I will have the last laugh.’ Jowan murmured darkly. His black eyes furiously flashed past the guard as he turned back to retrace his steps. ‘I must go.’

His breath plumed into frosty puffs before him as he hastened his step, ignoring the greetings of several lone stragglers who were scattered across the courtyard. Climbing his way to the main hall he was surprised to hear many voices, and entering through the doors he was met with a bustling room of people. The fires were lit and the cooks were handing out bannocks and tea to the gathered residents. Varric sat with a group of mages playing cards, whilst Blackwall was pacing before the fire with a metal poker in his hand, stoking the flames every now and then. A bunch of drunk mercenaries were slumped over their flagons, deep in conversation. And the soft song of a Ferelden lullaby was being strummed by Maryden on her lute, filling the hall sweetly. The atmosphere was very…strange.

Jowan hastily approached the card game, his eyes frantically moving further down the hall to where the chamber door of Leliana resided.

‘Well well, look who returned for the main event!’ cheered Varric, lifting his cup to Jowan. ‘Come and join our little celebration. Six silver you can’t guess why we’re all here eh?’

‘Has she had the baby yet?’ asked Jowan urgently, throwing a half wave to the cheerful mages who were greeting him.

Varric threw his hand on the table, cursing the cards. ‘I’m out.’ he yawned. Grabbing his ale he turned to the mage. ‘Nah Nightingale’s been in there for hours now. Can you believe it? Curly and her having a baby. Can’t believe it myself, thought that kid was never coming out. I lost a lot of money on that one.’

‘My condolences.’ muttered Jowan, his eyes pressed hard on the door.

‘Don’t you worry about this old rogue, I’ve got good coin on the kid being a girl. Got a knack for getting these things right. What do you reckon Riddles? I’m still taking bets if you’re interested?’

Jowan felt sick to his stomach. He shook his head, trying to clear his racing mind. Why did it feel as if any doubt had been quashed as soon as he entered that hall? Why did Jowan now feel with no uncertainty that he was the father?

‘Riddles?’ chuckled Varric ‘You okay there?’

Jowan looked up to his companion. ‘I’ve had a long journey from Denerim. It was a very tiring ride. Not exactly myself tonight.’

The rogue grimaced. ‘That wedding would put anyone out of sorts. How was it? How was Sparrow? Heck don’t tell me, I don’t think I wanna know.’

With a pang of guilt, Jowan averted his eyes from the rogue’s. ‘The wedding happened but I never got to speak with her. There were a lot of guests and she spent most of the time engaged in official duties. For obvious reasons I stayed out of the thick of it.’

Varric appeared surprised. ‘Seriously? You went all that way and didn’t think to stick around one more day to see how she was going? Shit Riddles, I thought you and Sparrow were good friends?’

‘Something about previously having poisoned the king’s closest advisor and teaching his son ill magic didn’t sit well at court. I just didn’t feel at ease being there any longer.’ replied Jowan sharply ‘At least I went.’

‘Couldn’t have paid me to go.’ Varric shrugged, taking a swig of ale ‘My absence was out of respect to our Inquisitorialness. To show her there’s some of us still here that don’t agree to selling her off to the King of Ferelden.’

‘Michel mentioned she wasn’t coping.’ muttered Jowan ‘To be quite frank I don’t think Ophelia wants to see any of us ever again by the sound of it.’

‘No shit.’ chuckled Varric ‘Imagine being forced into something like that without your consent. And your so called friends just looking the other way. How do you reckon that would feel?’

Jowan’s face grew dark, looking back at the door. ‘I would be furious,’ he replied in a deathly quiet voice ‘and I would want to know why? No one deceives me. No one. It would be most unwise to try, and those that have come to do so have regretted it most dearly.’

‘Sparrow isn’t the vengeful type.’ argued the rogue ‘She knows the reason, and she now knows her worth as a person never really increased when she left the Circle tower. If anything, it decreased. Last time I checked no one had the authority to force a mage into a marriage.’

‘No the templars just did what they wanted.’ replied Jowan darkly, flashing his companion a disapproving look ‘But you are right in your observations. Most seem to think the mages are now liberated, but what happened to Ophelia reveals how untrue that is. A mage will always be considered a second class citizen, no different from an elf or qunari. A dirty speck on the realm that must be remorsefully endured. Were she not a mage I believe her fate would have been entirely different.’

‘Okay Riddles you need wine.’ exclaimed Varric, jumping up to get his friend a drink.

Jowan sunk further into his chair, eyes once more pressed hard on the door to Leliana’s chambers.

‘No Varric,’ he whispered to himself ‘all I need is answers.’

****

Cullen sat uneasily on the staircase outside their chambers, hearing the occasional cry from within. After barking orders at the midwife, excessive cursing, kicking the fireplace, knocking over a jug, and pacing loudly in agitation; the midwife and Leliana had firmly requested that the Commander was to wait outside.

‘The miracle of life happening right now and I am told to sit on my hands like a disobedient bairn.’ he muttered.

Leliana had tossed and turned the entire previous night, and early that morning the reason became clear enough. She was in labour. Surprisingly Cullen knew what to expect. His mother had been the village midwives’ helper on the odd occasion, so he knew babies more often than not took their time. However some irrational part in Cullen half expected the child to appear at any moment, and that made him even more jumpy about the entire process. As a result he had hovered over Leliana trying to do anything that he could. Did she want a glass of water? Did she want the window open? Did she want the window shut? Was she hungry? Should he go send for more help? Was there anything he could do?

In the end, Cullen felt as helpless as he assumed any father felt at that moment when their child was being born. For in truth there was nothing he could do, except wait.

Sobbing echoed from the other room and the Commander clenched his jaw, looking to the door. He didn’t want Leliana to be in pain, and coming from the sounds in the room she was. That feeling of helplessness crept over him, and jumping up in agitation he began to walk up and down the corridor. Any moment now he would be a father and there were no words to express how that felt. Was he ready? He knew that he was, but he was uncertain that he would be a good one. Cullen did not know the first thing about being a father. How did anyone know how to be a father when they had never been one before?

Squeak….

The door opened hastily and the midwife appeared with bright red blood smeared on her apron.

The Commander was already barging through the door before the woman could say a word. ‘Is she okay?’ he asked fearfully, spotting the blood. ‘Leliana? Leliana!’

Cullen stopped in his tracks, tears in his eyes. On the bed sat Leliana, her red hair messy and her face washed of any colour, yet her green eyes sparkled. Beaming she looked over to Cullen, biting her lip as she turned back to the child. There in her arms lay a tiny baby, swaddled in a white sheet.

‘Cullen this is your son.’ Leliana informed softly, holding out the baby towards him. ‘Come and hold him.’

Moving forward eagerly, Cullen gently scooped the child in his large arms as he sat on the edge of the bed. His amber eyes glistened as his finger lightly touched the tiny pale fingers of the child before him.

‘He’s so small and so perfect, Leliana.’ murmured Cullen, captivated by the infant in his arms. ‘Maker’s breath he is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. How can something so tiny hold my entire heart?’

Leliana nodded, silenced by the emotion as tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘I feel the same way, my love.’

Cullen looked over to her in concern. ‘Are you alright? Was the birth…’

‘Everything went exactly as I planned.’ reassured Leliana ‘I am fine.’. Placing a hand on his arm, she smiled. ‘It is a Ferelden tradition for the father to name the child, no? What is his name?’

Cullen silently admired the baby in this arms, his hand gently cupping the top of the infants head. ‘My son.’ he murmured proudly ‘He shall be called…Valahorn Tearlach Rutherford.’

Leliana bit her lip with a smile. ‘Valahorn Tearlach Rutherford. It is perfect.’

The couple smiled at each other, soon turning their attention back to the infant who captivated their hearts. And there they remained on the bed watching that baby, thanking the Maker for such a perfect creation.

****

A warm glow of the late afternoon sun spread out across the Redcliffe wheat fields. The heat from the day lingered, and the soft hum of crickets had lulled me into slow blinks of sleepy contentment. Several brown and white speckled mares from a neighbouring field peacefully grazed, and the clank of iron could be heard in the distance, a dull thud from the smithy in the village.

After days of feasting at Denerim Palace, Alistair and I had finally been able to escape the palace and spend some time away from politics. A honeymoon of sorts, although I was certain neither of us viewed it as that. Our union was a strange one and I wondered whether anyone else could tell that we were not in love? Or that we hadn’t been intimate? Or even worse, that I was being intimate with someone else? My guilt at the situation was strong, but the fact that Alistair showed no real attraction to me made it a little easier to accept. Nevertheless being deceitful was not a trait I valued, and unfortunately there was no other way to describe what I was doing. I felt like a bad person, and yet I knew that I really wasn’t. I was just a woman married to one man, and in love with another. Or two. Maker that sounds terrible. As Blackwall used to say, you can’t control the wind and you can’t escape your heart. Perhaps he was right, although I still wasn’t sure what the wind had to do with it?

Michel de Chevin had departed for Orlais a few days prior. A grand white Orlesian barouche had arrived at the palace to whisk him away, and I dismally watched him leave from a window in the palace. Dressed in a sky blue long waist coat and cream pants, Michel looked the part of the Orlesian noble. His blonde hair shone in the bright sunlight, and his firm physique and stylish attire captivated the attention of all those around him. The chevalier exchanged pleasantries with several of the swooning staff before entering the carriage, flicking his tail coats up elegantly before he sat, and then he was off. Dismally I watched until the carriage disappeared, finally turning away to see that all that lay before me was an empty cold hall filled with paintings.

It made me miserable.

My thoughts were disturbed by a gallop of hooves, and looking across the field I noticed Alistair and his riders approaching the dusty path to where I was sitting on the hill. Uncertain as to how he had found me, or why there were so many heading straight for me, I stood up and waved an arm. Alistair appeared to call off his guards and they stopped as the king rode onwards to greet me.

Dismounting his brown horse, Alistair gave the beast an affectionate nuzzle on the nose before joining me. The man had a gentleness in his manner that I found sweet. To have endured such a hard life, and to still keep that kind demeanour was a beautiful thing. He could have been hardened over the years as so many were, and yet there he was with a constant warm smile and a positive outlook.

‘You’re giving my guards a run for their money.’ observed Alistair with a grin, sitting beside me. Rubbing his wrist, he began to unlace the leather gauntlets wrapped tight. ‘Redcliffe Castle has been turned upside down looking for the Queen the last few hours.’

‘Maker help me.’ I muttered, shaking my head ‘I’m sorry Alistair, I just felt like riding out by myself. I keep on forgetting-‘

‘-that life is not like it was?’ observed Alistair knowingly ‘Yes I feel the same way. Don’t concern yourself, no harm was done. Besides it keeps them on their toes, you should do it more often.’. The man rubbed his clean shaven jaw, chuckling at his thoughts. ‘Although I think Teagan’s head nearly exploded when he found out his guards had lost the Queen.’

‘That would have been entertaining to watch.’ I grinned ‘He’s such a happy man, I didn’t think his head could ever explode? Now as for Eamon…..’

Alistair chuckled at the comment. ‘Yes that’s generally the rule. Teagan is happy and Eamon is the grumpy one. Between you and me he gets grumpier each year that passes. Soon he’ll just be a potato with a grey beard, dressed in a waistcoat.’

Laughing, I threw an entertained look at the king. Alistair always had a way of making me laugh and that was something I very much liked about the man.

‘It’s good to see you smile.’ he observed, appearing pleased with himself. The man breathed in the air deep into his lungs, looking peaceful as he gazed out to the view beyond. ‘It’s a beautiful place you’ve found here. I used to climb that elm everyday as a boy.’. Alistair pointed to a large tree in the far distance in the middle of a field of wheat. ‘I’d hide right up in the branches whenever the maids came to call me in for supper. I hated being indoors, especially after Eamon remarried to Isolde. She took such a dislike to me. Always liked to scold me and frighten me out of the castle rooms like a wicked mistress.’

‘I think she might have changed her tune at the wedding?’ I grinned 'Didn't she call you her favourite nephew?'. Isolde had been excessively nice to Alistair and I, oozing with Orlesian charm that was overly superficial and quite unnerving.

‘Ironic how a title of king can transform enemies into cherished friends?' observed Alistair cynically 'Trust me, she hates us both. She’s a scary woman, I’d scurry up into that tree as high as I could climb into the branches to escape here and for a moment there I was free.’

I knew exactly what he meant. ‘It’s very strange being able to sit out here in the open. It’s only been a few years since I left the circle tower, and to this day it feels as if a templar could spring out at any moment.’

Alistair waved his hands in the air, grinning at me. ‘Taa-daa!’

‘Oh yes I forgot you were a templar.’ I smirked ‘Just my luck.’

‘Trained as a templar, don’t really consider myself one anymore.’ pointed out Alistair ‘Want to know a secret? I would have made a rotten templar. I’d have let all the mages go. Something about imprisoning people with magic never sat well with me. Having married two mages now, I look at the practices I was trained to do and feel a lot of remorse.’

Looking over to the man, he seemed very sincere. I caught myself staring for several minutes too long, taking in his strong features that had alluded me in prior months as I wallowed in self-pity. His deep brown eyes and short brown hair, and his sturdy Ferelden stature with a strong neck, broad shoulders and wide chest encased in veridium steel royal armour. There was a red sash was tied around his forearm and I wondered why it was there. Alistair noticed me looking at it.

‘It’s custom to wear a red sash in Redcliffe during this month.’ informed Alistair ‘The men traditionally wear them on their forearms or belts, the women in their hair or around their wrist. It’s to remember the people who died trying to defend Redcliffe during the Blight.’. Alistair’s eyes looked out across the horizon. ‘It’s been nearly thirteen since I was here trying to unite men, dwarves and elves to aid us. It’s strange…to me it feels like a million years ago.’

‘I wish your people could have experienced better days, Alistair. Ferelden folk are the best people in Thedas.’

‘Perhaps I’m biased but I consider Redcliffe to be the best place in Thedas.’ added Alistair ‘You won’t find more loyal people, or good ones.’

‘They have a good king.’ I smiled.

‘And a good queen.’ he confirmed.

Scoffing at the comment, I shook my head in disagreement. I was neither a good queen, nor a good wife.

‘You tend to get pretty down on yourself, don’t you?’ observed Alistair ‘You’re the bravest at battling monsters out there, but within you let the demons win. It shouldn’t be that way.’

‘It’s somewhat harder to cast a fireball in your head.’ I muttered ‘If I could believe me I would.’

The man smiled sadly. ‘I didn’t say you were the only one who was guilty of doing that. Just that it shouldn’t be like that, for any of us.’

Alistair picked up a stone and threw it sailing across the long grass until it fell, hidden from sight. 'There is something I must tell you and I fear it will upset you. For that I am very sorry.’. The king appeared serious. Unnervingly serious. ‘I received word from a messenger today.’ he informed ‘Leliana has had a baby boy. Valahorn Rutherford.’

What was I supposed to say to that? In one swift foul move Leliana had obtained the life I had wanted. She had Cullen, and his child, and although they were not married she had now ensured that child carried Cullen’s name. The Commander was well and truly hers.

Pursing my lips, I nodded. ‘I see. Thank you for telling me.’

Alistair threw me an apologetic look. ‘I plan to take a trip to Skyhold tomorrow and I'm hoping for both our sakes that you do not join me.'

'Why?' I muttered 'Are you worried I'll fling myself at Cullen at the gates of the keep? ‘

Grinning at me, Alistair nodded. 'Maybe just a little?'. He sighed, seeing I didn't share his amusement. 'Of course I don’t think that. Honestly Ophelia I just don't think it will do you any good to go to Skyhold. To see Leliana and Cullen, and their child. To return to the place that holds a lot of…memories. Oh and it's cold up there, didn’t you know? And I hear the food is terrible. Meanwhile Teagan is a fantastic cook, he'd shower you with cinnamon buns if you stayed here. And he makes wonderful bird houses, he could teach you? Am I making a convincing case yet?'

'No!' I chuckled 'Well maybe the cinnamon buns was a good sell.'

Alistair laughed, looking out before him. 'Teagan always knew how to win over the ladies with food and crafts.’. Pausing, he tentatively placed a light hand on my shoulder. ‘You know you can talk to me about anything. I’m a very good listener, shoulder to cry on, verbal punching bag sort of lad. I never take it to heart and deflect everything with my brilliant wit.’

Shaking my head, I threw him a sad smile. ‘Thank you for the offer, but what’s the point? What’s done is done. We all knew the child would be here sooner or later. So why are you so eager to go up to Skyhold? Is this because of…’. Stopping myself, it was too early to start saying the name of Cullen and Leliana’s child out loud ‘...the baby?’

‘Not at all.’ replied Alistair ‘The truth is ever since Michel de Chevin told me about Kieran living at Skyhold I have been desperate to meet him. My son. Eleven years have already passed, I cannot delay seeing him a moment longer.’

So Alistair was convinced he could ride up the mountain and embrace his son? It was never going to be as easy as that. The man was too trusting that Morrigan would do the right thing. Given her protective nature towards her son at Skyhold I was certain she would not allow the king to simply ride up and greet Kieran as his son.

'Okay but here's the thing,’ I observed delicately ‘since you mentioned your blood connection to Kieran I have felt a little uneasy at how this is all going to turn out for you and for him. Look at it this way, if you only found out about Kieran through Michel then that means Morrigan never wanted you to meet her son. You’ve already been to Skyhold when she was living there with Kieran, and surprise surprise she was nowhere in sight. Tells you a lot about her motives? So if you come riding up that mountain tomorrow without me, word will arrive that the King of Ferelden is on his way and knowing Morrigan she'll be on her broom and out of that place before you can say-

'Frog-zap.' frowned Alistair 'You have a point there.'

'However if I send word that only the Inquisitor is coming to collect her possessions, the ones I left behind when I was unceremoniously booted from the place, then it will appear a little more normal. Try and conceal yourself amongst the guards and I can direct you straight to the lower herb garden, which is where Kieran resides most of the time. Morrigan won't run, and I’ll get my collection of Kirkwall coins back that I had stored away in my chamber chest.'

'You? Collecting antique coins?' grinned Alistair.

'No I kept a few coppers of change from an ale I bought back at The Hanged Man.' I quipped sarcastically, rolling my eyes. 'My friend Dryn is a pirate, well ex-pirate, and he gave me these old sovereigns he had collected. They were from one of his voyages around Bli-Bli Isle off the coast of Antiva. I was fond of them, it's not every day that you get pirate coins.'

The man nodded. 'I understand all too well about sentimental trinkets.'. Looking down at his chest, Alistair withdrew his mother's amulet. 'I've been wearing this around my neck since Sierra found it in Eamon's desk.'. Placing his hand on his hilt, he looked at the blade 'Duncan’s dagger is another one. Found it on a darkspawn when I returned to Ostagar. It was a bittersweet moment, to obtain a treasured keepsake of a dear friend but having to discover it on the body of a foul creature you just slayed. A foul creature that no doubt lay the final blow on that fateful day….'

Patting the man on the arm, I felt terrible for Alistair. Even to this day he was torn up about the death of his Grey Warden friend Duncan. 'Well they are worthy keepsakes. It's understandable why you are so fond of them.'. Feeling a little silly for wanting coins, I frowned. 'What sort of person am I to have nothing of value aside from a few loose pirate coins and clothes in a wooden chest?'

'Oh I don't know...a selfless hero who saved Thedas?' replied Alistair, rolling his eyes.

'Hardly.' I muttered.

‘The coins are important to you, that is all that matters.’. Alistair poked me in the shoulder with his finger. 'So! I guess we need to make an imperative mission to collect your coins, I won't take no for an answer. That is my final word, as King of Ferelden.’

I looked to the man seriously. 'The coins mean nothing, but Alistair I'll make sure you get to see your son. That is something worth returning to Skyhold for.'

Alistair frowned. 'You know I hate to ask that of you considering you will see more than coins once you arrive.'

'Like a child?' I replied cynically 'Oh don’t worry, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't pictured the baby in my head a hundred times over already. Is one hundred and one times going to any different?'

'Reality and fantasy are two different things.' pointed out Alistair 'A child before your very eyes is something entirely different from whatever you’ve conjured up in your head.'

Perhaps he was right. ‘Then I should see it and accept reality. Maybe I will get closure from that?’. Uncertain at how to address something that I needed to discuss with Alistair for quite I while, I pinched my lip with my finger. ‘There is one more tiny thing I need to ask. It’s about your decision to allow the Mage Order to continue at Skyhold.’

‘Maker help me, I promise you there was little way around it if we are to have a chance at peace.’ sighed Alistair ‘I don't take pleasure in forcing mages and templars into the same pot, but my hand was slightly forced given the circumstances. Think of it as a giant step forward for both Orders.’

That was questionable. Having lived in the circle tower, I was well aware that Templars were taught from day one to guard mages and not work alongside them. Personally I couldn’t have thought of a worse solution to the already strained relationship between mages and templars. Yet there was one way to ensure it didn’t get out of control, and I intended to act on it.

‘Alistair I know that my role now is queen….but I need a purpose in life.’

Alistair laughed at the comment. ‘Don’t let Eamon hear you say that!’

‘I’m not your traditional queen, you know that. I am no Anora.’

‘Thank the Maker.’ chortled Alistair ‘Considering she was after my head there for a while I’d say I like you much better.’

‘Doesn’t it bother you that I am not invested in politics? Or busying myself trying to win over the affections of the nobles? Doesn’t it bother you even in the slightest that I act in no way, shape or form as a queen ought to?’

‘The people love you for being the Inquisitor. Perhaps Anora was good at politics, but she was not liked by those she ruled over.’ The king shrugged. ‘So you’re not the etiquette driven sort. I prefer it that way. You’re not impressed by the gold plated cutlery we eat from every night, the several silver carriages to take your anywhere you want, or the money in the coffers. You don’t care for gossip, scheming, backstabbing or hobnobbing. You don’t have an agenda. You’re down to earth, humble and completely hopeless at mingling with the socialites that circle us like vultures. And that makes you a perfect match for me in so many ways.’

‘Yes but I was a mage before I became queen,’ I explained ‘and I am still a mage now. Jowan and I founded the Mage Order and we had so many dreams about what could be. I would like to continue my work there.’

‘But you live in Denerim now.’ replied Alistair gently ‘I hate to be the one to say this but you need to put Skyhold behind you. It is not a good place for you, especially now.’

‘It is a good place for the mages of Thedas, you said it yourself. And I am one of them.’ I replied adamantly ‘I realise my life is now in Denerim but I can still travel to places. It would not be ideal, but it could work? Alistair you cannot expect me to give up who I was just because I am now married to you. I was the mage who stood for the independence of mages across the realm. That is who I am.’

Alistair appeared troubled at the request, not wanting to agree but feeling he ought to. ‘Naturally you must do what makes you happy Ophelia, I’m not your prison guard. And I would not take away your connection to the Mage Order in addition to everything else. Although I wish you would stay away from the keep. I would ask you please to not go there. A darkness creeps over me when I think of you venturing back there, to a place where you may not be as welcome as you imagined.’

‘Who better than the Queen of Ferelden to ensure the templars aren’t taking advantage of the mages?’ I pointed out.

His eyes lingered a moment to my unruly brown long hair, pinned up as best it could. ‘And a very enchanting queen you are at that.' he replied fondly. His lips curled in a genuine smile. ‘You look beautiful, I don’t think I’ve said that enough to you. What a fool I’ve been when such a wonderful treasure is before me.’

A compliment.

Considering we were on such amicable and neutral terms, Alistair’s complimentary observation on my appearance caught me off-guard. Did he really consider me a wonderful treasure? Or was he merely being polite? I honestly did not know. Feeling embarrassed, I awkwardly mumbled ‘Thank you.’

Alistair smiled as he stood up once more. ‘No, thank you.’ he replied, turning back to his horse. Quickly he mounted, ready to ride off once more. ‘Stay out here as long as you want. I’ll deal with anyone that gives you grief about wanting a moment of peace.’

‘Including Teagan’s head exploding?’ I called out.

‘Especially Teagan’s head.’ Alistair laughed, riding off into the distance.

The view of the field before me seemed secondary as I watched the man ride off, a fond smile on my face.


	94. Uncertain Days Ahead

‘You’ve got to be joking!?” Cullen scorned, throwing the royal order on the war council table. ‘For goodness sake Cassandra, when I asked you to petition for the templars I never asked for this. Not in a million years.’

‘It is good news for the Templar Order.’ observed Cassandra tiredly, pulling off her riding gloves. A three day ride from Denerim Palace, the Seeker had purposively taken her time, happy to enjoy the Ferelden sun and countryside rather than hurry back to the Commander. Now that she had finally arrived back at the keep, she was beginning to regret her journey back had not been extended by a few extra days.

‘Good news indeed.’ scoffed Cullen ‘It would have been better if Alistair had cast out the templars from Ferelden altogether. Does he mean to mock us by forcing us to work with the mages? The man was a templar himself for crying out loud, surely he doesn’t hate the Order that much? Or is this some personal message intended for me?’

‘It is exceptionally good news for you, considering you murdered his ex-wife.’ she retorted bluntly ‘And no, I believe Alistair’s actions were noble. He seeks a solution to a long standing problem that no one else in Thedas seems too concerned to resolve.’. Pursing her lips at the glower she was receiving from Cullen, Cassandra turned over to the silent member in the room. ‘Jowan, you have not said anything?’

Jowan had been staring glumly out the window where an overcast sky entertained his gloomy thoughts. Only half present at the meeting, his mind was consumed by other unsettling matters.

‘Jowan?’ repeated Cassandra irritably.

The scowl on Jowan’s face was even fiercer than the Commander’s as he looked up to the Seeker. ‘What is there to say?’ he replied darkly ‘The proposal is appalling. The mages never even had a chance to speak with the king about this. Why you felt it was your duty to act on behalf of the Mage Order in beyond me.’

‘That was not my intention.’ replied the Seeker angrily ‘Do think I have an invested interested in seeing mages and templars clash horns? You both seem to think I am secretly conspiring against you? I am not the enemy, I am one of the few who is trying to help.’

‘Now the mages are once again bound to these wretches.’ muttered Jowan ‘I already have enough to worry about without this being thrown in my face. Do you not see that everything has now changed?’

‘The Mage Order is already running at Skyhold, what has changed?’ argued Cassandra.

The mage’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now I am forced to explain to my mages why the templars will be moving in to our keep.

Cullen’s attention shifted sharply to the mage. ‘Your keep? When did Skyhold suddenly become your keep?’

‘Do you see any templars around here?’ quipped Jowan ‘The mages were here first, and they came to Skyhold seeking respite. These people have had terrible lives at the hands of the templars and naturally do not trust them.’. Growing more and more frustrated, the mage thrust his hand at the Seeker. ‘Do you not see now how ghastly this proposal is?’

‘What I see is that you have no where else to go.’ replied Cassandra sternly ‘I see that this is the king’s final offer. Both Orders are permitted in Skyhold and nowhere else in Ferelden. You must learn to work with each other. At the very least I thought you would be pleased to have secured an official residence for your Mage Order?’

‘Forgive me for not jumping for joy over the fact that my mages will have to witness a bunch of louts practicing disarm magic out in the courtyard every time they look out their window.’ observed Jowan unenthusiastically. ‘Buffoons in armour at every turn dribbling on about how they have been chosen to guard the Maker’s fallen.’. Lifting his slender fingers to his temples, the mage cursed silently. ‘These mutton heads will dampen our spirits with their bluster and treat my people with contempt. Can you imagine how off-putting that will be?’. Casting his dark eyes to Cullen, he added dryly. ‘No offence.’

‘None taken.’ nodded Cullen ‘Naturally the same concerns apply to my templars here. They are trained to control the use of magic, not watch it being used around the keep willy-nilly. Do you think we enjoy witnessing some of these simpletons botch spells and set their robes on fire? Magic doesn’t appear to discriminate with the fools of this world, and no doubt you’ll have a pack of them with all the power of world at their clumsy fingertips. An entire keep with mages running amuck is our worst nightmare come true. It stands against everything that the Order believes in.’

‘Such as imprisoning mages?’ muttered Jowan.

‘Controlling magic.’ corrected Cullen. ‘You out of everyone should know that not all mages know right from wrong. And there are demons out there that would seek to use that to their own advantage.’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘Here we go again. And exactly how many demon uprisings have you witnessed at Skyhold since the mages have arrived? You continue to use one terrible example of what mages are capable of and put us all in that group.’

‘So the ex-malificar is playing the moral card now?’ chortled an amused Cullen, lifting his brows in surprise. ‘Jowan I respect you but your opinion on this matter does you little credit. You alone have made several deals with a demon that we all grew to know quite well over the last few years. One of those deals took place in this very blasted keep!’

Jowan flicked his hand at the comment as if it were irrelevant. ‘Tell me Cullen, what would make you and your Order happy? To return to the old ways? Have you considered that maybe what happened at the Ferelden Circle Tower and Kirkwall serves to show-‘

‘-how utterly reckless mages can be when they mishandle magic?’ interjected Cullen sternly. ‘That maybe that kind of power should never be left unsupervised? Yes I have considered that.’

‘It was the imprisonment of the mages that led to these problems arising.’ retorted Jowan ‘You cannot take a man’s freedom from them and expect them not harbour resentment.’

‘Would you let a wild boar roam free into the village out of fear that leashing it might harbour resentment?’

‘Oh so you’re comparing mages to wild animals now?’ quipped Jowan ‘Isn’t that nice.’

‘Is nice watching good men and women have their flesh melted from their bones from the abominations that take over your mages once they realise they cannot control their magic?’

‘Then you will be in dire need of mages that can help at such times.’ retorted Jowan ‘Need I remind you that Imshael had captured you, the head of your Order, and kept you very well contained at the Ferelden Tower. It takes strong magic to fight magic. You need mages on your side.’

‘Yes and who unleashed Imshael into the realm in the first place?’ scorned Cullen ‘Who was at the root of the problem? A mage.’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘It is neither here nor there, the point is you needed magic to save yourself.’

Cullen groaned in frustration. ‘Maker grant me patience.’ 

‘Enough!!’ shouted Cassandra, casting a stern look to both the men. ‘My duty as messenger ends here. I have brought you both the news of your new residence and now I am leaving. Good luck to you both, Maker knows you’re going to need it.’

Storming out of the room she left the men to themselves, only to hear the mage and templar recommence their argument once more before she had even made it halfway down the corridor.

****

In Orlais, brunch was regarded as the most civilised hour of the day to meet. Whether it was social, business or pleasure, the mid-morning affair of quiche, crepes and croissants was considered essential for the elite of high society. At the Winter Palace that morning, Emperor Gaspard had taken to the sunny gardens to enjoy brunch with a man he had grown to admire greatly over the years. A man that had once worked under him as a young chevalier. A man greatly skilled with a sword and who possessed strength of mind and will. A man that had once saved his life, despite causing the man’s own ruin. One man that had the world at his feet and then sacrificed it all for honour. Chevalier. Champion. Maister of Blades. Michel de Chevin was this man, and the Emperor was delighted to finally welcome him back at his Court.

Amongst the parade of wandering peacocks and finely dressed courtesans, that scattered across the garden enjoying pastries and champagne, Emperor Gaspard and Ser Michel paced the grounds side by side. Michel was in his chevalier armour on this particular morning, and he attracted much attention for it. His calendrium plate mail radiated a deep blue, a very rare and expensive armour bestowed only to knights in the highest of ranks, and a large golden lion’s head was etched on his breastplate, the symbol of the Academie de Chevaliers. His blonde hair was swept back neatly and he wore a blue gorget collar turned up high and elegant at his neck. Ser Michel de Chevin was the perfect image of chevalier, and the courtesans looked upon him with approval.

However it was not only Michel’s fine armour and pleasant features that captivated the nobles in that garden that morning. Many were intrigued to see the Champion that Empress Celene had declared a traitor now walking beside Emperor Gaspard as a close ally. For many years Michel’s name had been a disgrace. He had been labelled a traitor to Orlais by Celene for refusing to bestow the final and lethal lunge of a sword into Gaspard’s chest during a duel. Michel refused to murder the man, and that decision rendered his own life was forfeit. To add further insult to the Empress, Michel managed to escape his execution. Yet now Michel was now considered a hero once more, and those that had loudly crowed over his fall in prior years made themselves scarce at court that day. Michel de Chevin was once again the most popular man in Orlais, securing a well-earned position at the Emperor’s side. Every noble was desperate to be in the Emperor’s good favour, and if Ser Michel was close to Gaspard then they were determined to be close to the chevalier.

After being stopped on several occasions by competitive courtesans with elegant dresses and low cleavages, desperate to flirt with the Emperor and chevalier, the men finally found a moment to talk amongst themselves. Running a peacock feather across his cheek, the Emperor laughed. He had spotted more ladies watching the pair from afar with opera-glasses, squabbling at who next could have a turn to spy on the pair.

‘You seem to have drawn a lot attention since returning to my court.’ observed Gaspard in amusement ‘You must promise me to stay a while longer. I cannot bear the dull conversations from men that have never lifted a weapon in their life. They are no better than the peacocks here, loud and aggressive little shits who eat my food, crap all over the place and bite while looking pretty.’

Michel was amused by the Emperor’s sentiments, raising his blonde eyebrows in reaction.

‘I am a soldier at heart Michel.’ continued Gaspard sagely ‘My place is on the battlefield, not the ballroom.’

‘Of course the battlefield is far less dangerous than the ballroom.’ Michel mused ‘Here there is no mercy.’

Gaspard rolled his eyes. ‘Half of these turncoats were loyal supports of Celene. See how they weasel their way back into my court, pretending now to be my closest allies? On the battlefield you know your enemy and have your men at your back. Here you are completely alone and without a weapon to defend yourself.’. The Emperor frowned, turning to his companion suddenly. ‘That is why I need you here Michel. The Inquisition is over, so nothing keeps you away. This business of yours in Ferelden can be set aside.’

The chevalier nodded patiently, knowing he would have to tread carefully. ‘You invitation to court is most gracious. Honestly my return to the Winter Palace feels like returning home. However my business in Ferelden sadly prevents me from enjoying the company of the Emperor for more than a few days.’

Gaspard groaned ‘What Orlesian in their right mind would want to stay in the east for so long? The dark days are over now Michel, it is time to return! I want my court to be filled with warriors who have tasted the tang of blood and lived to tell the tale. With steel in their hands, not fans and lace handkerchiefs. No, I want none of that. We need more men like you at court. Tell me you’ll stay?’

‘Unfortunately I cannot.’ apologised Michel.

‘So this chevalier refuses to return to my court?’ grumbled the displeased Emperor ‘Any other leader may take offence to that.’

Michel placed a hand on his chest, bowing his head sincerely. ‘My Emperor there was no offence intended. I stay away from court not because I refuse but because of promises made to another. Official duties to Queen Ophelia keep in me in Denerim at present.’

Laughing heartily, Gaspard waved his feather at Michel. ‘Yes your official duties to the Queen. Only a woman would stir such diligence in a man, no?’

The chevalier hesitated. ‘You misunderstand my-‘

Gaspard waved his hand. ‘Say no more. You must remember that I and many others saw you at the ordination of the King of Ferelden. As I recall your cherished partner at the time is now his wife?’

‘This is no secret.’ replied Michel solemnly ‘Alistair had his political reasons for seeking matrimony with the Inquisitor and she was obliged to agree.’

‘Yes and a good move it was.’ observed Gaspard ‘Even in Orlais the people are still enraptured by the heroics of the Inquisition. The Inquisitor was a wise choice for a bride when a king seeks popularity. It appears Alistair plays the game rather well.’

Michel appeared indifferent at the praise of the king. ‘Alistair got what he wanted’ he observed plainly.

Gaspard knew all too well there was more to it than that. ‘And your attachment to Denerim at present?’ asked the Emperor curiously ‘Do you stay out of obligation or love?’

Looking up hastily, Michel’s blue eyes betrayed him. To many he could deceive, even himself, but the chevalier in him was incapable of lying to his Emperor. ‘Our love for each other is why I stay. Yes.’

Gaspard nodded, pleased at the honesty of his companion. There was no shock at the confession, indeed the Emperor appeared indifferent to the scandal. Orlesian culture was infamous for their tempestuous romances, often with lovers that were partnered to others. To harbour a love for another man’s wife was exceedingly common and most did not bat an eyelid at such things, as long as they remained most elegantly hidden from the offended party.

‘It was never my desire or intention to interfere with the relationship of the King and Queen of Ferelden.’ informed the chevalier solemnly ‘As you say, Ophelia and I have a personal history. And there is no love shared between her and Alistair. Such circumstances lead us both to temptation.’

‘Do not trouble yourself Michel. Who here has not had an affair of passion?’ dismissed the Emperor ‘When I was younger I harboured a love for Comte Rennou’s wife. We were lovers behind closed doors, and did remain so for many a year until the Comte found out and challenged me to a duel. So at dawn we drew our rapiers and fought for his honour.’. Gaspard snorted in disgust. ‘Stupid swine. You should have seen him flailing on the grass and panting for air before we’d hardly even started clashing swords. I could have run him through, right there into his round fromage filled gut, but such a pitiable site held my hand. The coward ran off and that very day he moved to Antiva, taking his wife with him. I never saw her again. Such is the way of l’amour, no?’

Michel appeared disenchanted. ‘The traditions in Ferelden do not embrace duels as we do. If they had, perhaps I would have been able to deal with my problems in a more civilised manner.’

The Emperor patted the chevalier on the arm in sympathy. ‘I do not envy you Michel. To love a woman also loved by the greatest Commander in Ferelden, and the King of Ferelden, is a heavy burden to carry. Ah, but love will conquer all eh?’

‘That is what they say.’ observed Michel ‘Yet I’ve yet to see it. Perhaps the minstrels have lied to us? Perhaps we should never pursue love in the first place.’

‘You should be careful.’ warned Gaspard ‘To ignore one’s heart is a tragedy. To listen to one’s heart may also end the same way. But to never try, that is the biggest tragedy of them all’.

The Emperor sat down on a stone bench, one overlooking a small pond filled with pink Orlesian lilies. He patted the seat, encouraging the chevalier to sit beside him. ‘Although you will be well missed at my court and the Academie des Chevaliers, your presence in Ferelden serves me very well. One can never have too many eyes in another ruler’s court.’

Michel sat by the Emperor, resting his arms on his knees. He knew all too well what Gaspard was suggesting and it was not a role he was eager to accept. ‘Emperor Gaspard you must understand that I serve no important position at the palace. I am not involved in the politics, nor do I attend the king’s council. My role at court is a quiet one. To protect the queen.’

Gaspard looked around the stone bench, his eyebrows raised in pretend surprise. ‘And where is she now?’

The chevalier chuckled. ‘Redcliff. Perhaps King Alistair welcomes me to his court more as a friend than anything else? Like I said, my role is a quiet one.’

‘That is why I encourage you to stay.’ exclaimed the Emperor, tapping his nose. ‘It is only when we are quiet that we can truly know our surroundings and the true nature of people. You are in a very good position. Get a feel of how the new king settles in, and stay close to him.’

Michel threw the emperor a concerned look. ‘With respect my Emperor, I am a chevalier, not a spy. Nor would I wish to be so. Alistair is a good man and I have no desire to abuse his trust.’

‘Mon dieu, I’m not asking you to spy!’ Gaspard chuckled light-heartedly ‘Spies I have many. Too many! But what good are they? You have an Orlesian washerwoman in Denerim castle and people instantly begin to suspect that she is an agent of Orlais. My agents find it hard to infiltrate the Ferelden palace. But you Michel? You are close to the king and queen by your own accord, and they have welcomed you into their court. This is the most advantageous position to be in. Let us keep it that way.’. Noticing the Chevalier’s doubtful expression, the Emperor shook his head. ‘Not to spy, but to stay and better acquaint yourself at court. I would ask you to continue being a guest at the castle, nothing more. And naturally, to serve your Queen.’

Michel rubbed his blonde hair bashfully. ‘My emperor, I must ask that this be kept between us. If anyone were to know about Ophelia and I-‘

Gaspard patted Michel on the shoulder. ‘Do not worry Michel, your secret is safe with me. Stay in Ferelden and be with your love. Just make sure you return to me from time to time.’

The chevalier nodded, yet his heart grew heavy. Secrets were good for keeping, breaking and being used against men. It was questionable as to which the Emperor would choose to do with his.

Gaspard chuckled, grabbing some grapes from a silver tray from a table beside the bench. ‘Enjoy good wine and women when you can Michel, for they often pass you by. And before you know it you’re an Emperor with one too many cats who take up all the room on the bed.’


	95. Let Sleeping Liars Lie

Hood drawn low across his head, Jowan lingered by the door to the undercroft and waited. For several days now Leliana had not retreated from her chambers and he was now growing exceedingly desperate to speak with her. All the mage needed was a moment to clarify this unsettling doubt in his mind. It would be all resolved and he would laugh it off without a care in the world.

According to the chamber maid, Cullen had been leaving the chambers at mid-morning to attend to work. Jowan knew the moment the Commander left would be his opportunity to strike. Half an hour after Madame Ruthie had brought out some bread and coffee in the main hall that morning the Commander finally exited the chambers. Picking up a small loaf and a cup of steaming brew, Cullen went on his way and Jowan hastily approached the Chantry guards at the entrance of Leliana’s door. Producing a fake scroll from his sleeve, he hastily explained he had received important information for Leliana. With a nod from the guards, who knew Jowan well, the mage was escorted to her chambers. They knocked on the door lightly, calling out softly ‘Your Most Holy, you have a visitor regarding important news.’

Jowan fidgeted with his nails as he waited. Dark eyes fluttered from the door to the guards, nervously counting the minutes that dragged by. Finally the door opened and Leliana appeared. Catching site of the mage standing there, she appeared surprised.

‘Jowan? You have important news? Regarding what?’

‘I hope this is good time?’ replied Jowan, stepping into the room before an answer could be given. He nudged his head to the guards standing behind him. ‘I was hoping to discuss the matter in private.’

Intrigued by the secrecy of her companion, the Spymaster obliged. ‘Of course.’ she replied and nodded to the guards. ‘You can leave us now, thank you.’

Jowan remained quiet as they departed, relieved that they were finally alone.

‘Valahorn just feel asleep.’ informed Leliana tiredly ‘Funny how he can stay awake all night and then come morning he drifts away. Cullen and I were up all night. It is laughable that neither of us were aware of how challenging a baby would be. Ridiculous, isn’t it? We have fought the foulest of creatures across Thedas and yet the biggest struggle has been trying to get a child to rest.’

The baby was sleeping peacefully on his back in a small wooden crib by the door to the balcony. His small fingers moved, and the infant’s tiny lip sucked a few times before returning to a blissful slumber. It was impossible to tell if the child resembled Cullen or Jowan, or even Leliana, for the infant appeared like any other newborn.

Jowan looked upon the baby as one would look upon a tombstone. Was he to feel affection or indifference? Was this his flesh and blood? And would he ever truly know?

‘How was the wedding?’ asked Leliana disinterestedly, retiring to her study seat. She sighed restlessly, observing the stack of letters before her. ‘No one gave you any trouble did they? My guards informed me you departed the city in a brief manner.’

‘Must they inform you of every inconsequential action that I do.’ asked Jowan stiffly ‘Does me leaving Denerim early warrant an update to the Divine? One would think I am a prisoner.’

‘At least they don’t guard your bedroom like a dungeon.’ replied Leliana with a grin ‘And follow you to the privy. And taste all your food for poison, including your tea!’. Grabbing a letter from the top of the pile, she perused it rather idly before rolling her eyes. ‘Congratulations from the Emperor of Orlais.’ she mused ‘He intends to gift a marble statue of the Divine and her child in the gardens at the Grand Cathedral. Just what we need, more marble statues.’

‘Leliana we need to talk.’

The mage cast his troubled eyes to the woman and she lowered her letter in surprise.

‘There are things that I must know.’ Jowan informed crisply ‘Whatever your reasons, I ask that you do me the courtesy of telling me the truth.’

Leliana shook her head, not understanding his meaning. ‘The truth about what?’

‘We spent a night together in Orlais. I would ask you now whether there is a chance, even in the slightest, that I may be the father to that child there?’ asked Jowan directly, his arms folding across his chest.

An amused titter came from Leliana as her face brightened in amusement. ‘You think you are the father?’ she remarked. Standing up from the desk, an entertained smile now covered her face. ‘Jowan why would you ask that question when you know there is no possible way that you could be?’

The mage appeared unconvinced. ‘There is always a chance when you look at when our union occurred.’

Leliana shook her head. ‘Do not burden yourself with such unnecessary worries. Cullen is the father and there is no doubt about it. You forget that I was already pregnant with this child when we lay together?’

Of course she would say that. The mage clenched his jaw, a short nod of acknowledgement. ‘Yes but that would have made you over ten months pregnant at the time you had Valahorn. A little late, wouldn’t you say?’

The Spymaster’s lip curled even wider. ‘Someone has been worrying about this a little too much, hasn’t he?’. Leliana shrugged, approaching the crib. ‘Valahorn arrived late, there is no secret reason behind it. Babies come into the world when they are ready.’. She lifted the baby in her arms, placing a kiss on it’s forehead. ‘The main thing is he arrived healthy and strong, just like his father.’. Her eyes looked up to Jowan seriously. ‘Which is Cullen. Of that you have my word.’

Jowan silently cursed himself. Could he have expected anything else but this reply? He knew all too well who he was dealing with here. A master of lies and deception. Leliana’s word held no reassurance and no truth. If anything, he felt her sincerity served as a warning horn in his foggy mind. Her composure at such a question gave cause to doubt. His accusation had brought out no usual reaction that one would reveal. Leliana was not shocked, or angry or even uncomfortable. Indeed she was acting as if she had practiced for this conversation many times before and was now simply performing.

‘The child appears small.’ observed Jowan, looking at the infant in her arms. ‘Smaller than the usual baby. Significantly smaller than a child that has arrived later than normal.’

Leliana grinned at the mage. ‘I didn’t realise a hermit in the woods came across so many children?’

‘You forget that I was raised in the Chantry.’ reminded Jowan ‘Many unmarried women who found themselves with child stayed with the Sisters until the babies were born. Indeed my life has been surrounded by many babies. Enough to know without a doubt that this child is particularly small for one that arrived so late.’

The Spymaster raised her brows. ‘Well that is good to know.’. Placing the baby back in the crib, Leliana looked seriously at the mage. ‘Jowan I’m sorry if for some unintended reason I have placed doubt in your mind. But rest assure this child is Cullen’s. I would never lie to you about something like that.’

His heart sank at those words, filled with so much sincerity that it chilled him to the bones. I would never lie to you about something like that. How was he to outplay a deceiver? Nothing he could say would ever work. No, he had to do something else…..

Stepping towards the child, Jowan moved a gentle hand to the baby’s cheek. His eyes looked down at the crib, but he could see Leliana’s posture tighten as she witnessed him touch the child.

‘Valahorn is very precious. May I hold him?’ asked Jowan politely ‘As you can imagine I do love babies.’

‘Perhaps another time, he is sleeping now.’ replied Leliana a little too hastily. ‘What’s that old saying? Let sleeping babies lie’.

‘Isn’t that let sleeping dogs lie?’ quipped Jowan, appreciating the irony of such a comment at such a time.

‘Is it? Oh well, you know what I mean.’ she dismissed ‘Thank you for visiting us all the same.’

‘My pleasure.’ replied Jowan, stepping away from the crib. His eyes pressed hard on the woman, who smiled back a little nervously. So subtle a reaction, but there it was. Fear. Perhaps Jowan had been naïve in trusting Leliana in days gone by but not now. He was exceptionally good at reading people and he knew an anxious pair of eyes hidden behind a brilliant smile. He could see behind the mask easily for he had lived his entire life behind one. 

‘Well if that is all, I think I will have a little rest now.’ informed Leliana casually ‘Oh and Jowan, between you and me it would be unwise to bring up such accusations in front of Cullen. Or anyone else for that matter. I do not think the Commander will take kindly to your previous involvement with me. He has a jealous nature, and given you are to be working with him in the future I would strongly encourage a good relationship is nurtured. It was right of you to come talk to me about this though. Now we shall put it to rest.’

‘On that note I shall take my leave.’ replied Jowan, now eager to escape. With a small bow, he departed the room, casting a dark expression at the Chantry guards standing at the door. Entering into the main hall, the mage’s breathing began to grow frantic. The room was spinning and he could not control it. Panic swept over him. His hands were clammy and a sweat trickled down his brow as his chest pounded hard. Shakily the mage collapsed into a chair, clutching his head in his hands.

‘What foul fortune has fallen upon me?’ he whispered in terror ‘Her deception is my undoing and there is nothing to be done.’

****

Fiddling with the reins, he yanked and twisted them until his horse started to get very annoyed and snorted angrily. At this point the king would ease up for a while, only to start pulling on the reins once more, each time his horse getting more and more irritated. Alistair slouched in a worn leather saddle, dressed in the armour of the Ferelden guard with a metal helmet disguising his royal features. A cunning disguise that would fool any scouts who returned to Skyhold to advise that guests from Denerim Palace were on their way.

‘Don’t fret.’ I whispered, throwing Alistair a smile.

‘I feel like my heart is about to jump out of my eyeballs,’ he confessed ‘and my ears, mouth, nose and other unmentionables.’

‘It’s good to see you not nervous about this.’ I teased ‘Taking it in your stride without a care in the world?’

Lifting one hand off the reins, Alistair proceeded to chew at his nails. ‘How is it that I can ride into battle calmly but the idea of meeting a child renders me slightly terrified and crying on the inside?’

Laughing at the king, I lifted my attention ahead. We had finally reached the upper part of Gherlen’s Pass, and the tip of Skyhold’s mage’s tower could be seen in the distance. Biting my lip, I looked away. To be honest, Alistair wasn’t the only one feeling a little uneasy at the moment. I could empathise with the man for my own heart was beating hard in its chest, knowing soon I was to return to the keep. After all this time being away I wondered how much had changed? 

‘You’ll be fine.’ I reassured ‘Anyone who has met you knows that you’re a good person. Children are smarter than adults, they see through people.’

Alistair groaned. ‘Great. Just great.’

‘You’ll be fine.’

‘What if he doesn’t like me?’ frowned Alistair ‘Or is completely different to me? What if he is like Morrigan?’. The man shuddered, as if that was the worst possibility of them all.

I shrugged. ‘Kieran’s your child. You’ll love him no matter what.’

Suddenly Alistair’s shoulders relaxed a little and he breathed out deeply. He threw me a smile as he loosened his grip on the reins. ‘You’re right, you know? Nothing else matters aside from that.’

‘Think of when you were eleven?’ I continued ‘Imagine meeting the King of Ferelden and finding out that he was your father.’

Alistair chuckled. ‘You mean like me meeting my father King Marric? You know I don’t really have to imagine that scenario.’

‘Okay,’ I muttered ‘bad example. To the common folk though that would be an incredible thing. And to know that your father slayed the arch demon during the blight! Who wouldn’t be amazed by that?’

‘The arch demon for one.’ joked Alistair ‘Possibly the darkspawn.’

‘Oh haha you’re so hilarious.’ I groaned ‘Look at me trying to hold on to my reins out of fear of falling into hysterics.’

The king grinned. ‘I do my best.’

‘Well it’s been wonderful chatting to you guardsman Alistair, but you need to get back to the other soldiers now.’ I teased ‘Remember helmet on, head down. And look sharp, we’re almost at Skyhold.’


	96. It’s Good To Be Home!

_‘How I hate this droll place!’ cried the young man in tears,_

_as he wallowed away his begrudged childhood short years,_

_then one day now grown up, he left with coin in his hand,_

_and set out to find fortune and greener pastures of land._

_The coin he soon spent, yet it was never enough,_

_and life, he soon learned, could be awfully rough,_

_so turning his heel that man wistfully roamed,_

_dreaming of better lived days when he was happy at home._

There was excessive shouting and cheering as I rode in through the gates to Skyhold, leading the entourage of Ferelden soldiers behind me. The party had been instructed to be silent to the fact that their king rode alongside us, and as we dismounted at the stables I was pleased to see no one paid any attention to the disguised Alistair. The king dismounted quickly and managed to escape unnoticed with several other guards, heading to the lower herb garden.

With a grin on my face I silently wished Alistair well. Leaving my horse with a disenchanted stable hand who didn’t appear to recognise or remember me, I set off across the lower courtyard and greeted the men and women gathering close. Mages and soldiers clasped hands, warmly welcoming me back and congratulating my marriage to King Alistair. They were happy, more so than in previous days, and casting my eyes around Skyhold the plave felt a great deal more at ease. These folk before me were finally living their lives without the fear of Corypheus, and their faces revealed what a relief that was. I couldn’t help but smile as I greeted the residents, relieved that they were finally able to live in peace.

‘Eh, watch it! Make way! Coming through.’ yelled out a voice that I recognised all too well. Varric was skipping through the crowd, elbowing his way through a bunch of soldiers who grumbled as he pushed them aside. ‘Well knock me over with a feather, you’re back!’ Varric cried out, approaching me with welcoming arms. The rogue roughly embraced me, slapping me on the back enthusiastically. ‘Shit sparrow, what are you doing here?’. Chuckling he pointed to my head ‘And she’s wearing a gold crown. Nice props kid.’

‘Varric I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you.’ I chuckled ‘What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!!! I thought you’d be back at Kirkwall living it up at The Hanged Man?’.

‘Bah.’ dismissed Varric ‘You think I want to see Corff’s ugly mug day in day out? The bastard won’t sell me the place and I’ll be damned if I line his coffers with any more of my coin. Besides, Skyhold needs a good tavern and The Cock and Bull is the finest establishment south of Thedas.’

‘Horseshit!’ yelled out of the soldiers ‘I found a cockroach in my ale the other night.’

‘And I didn’t charge you extra.’ replied Varric, punching his fist into palm ‘This here is also free if you keep on going on about it.’

In my periphery I could see my guards pressing closer towards me, obviously suspicious of the dwarf. They glared at him with stern faces, apparently displeased that he was being so casual with their queen. Varric appeared amused, pointing at the guards before him. ‘Who’s the gloomy gang you run with these days?’

‘Beats me, we picked them up on the road.’ I joked ‘They said they were just looking for a good time.’

‘Well shit they came to the wrong place!’ laughed Varric. Grabbing my arm, he threw the guards a nod. ‘Sorry gang she’s coming with me to The Cock and Bull. I won’t take no for an answer. You better have your drinking boots on Sparrow, it’s going to be big celebration.’

‘Just try and stop me!’ I replied enthusiastically. Unfortunately there were a few loose ends I needed to address first. ‘Actually Varric hold that thought. Hate to be a killjoy but I have some matters to attend before we crack open a barrel.’

‘Pfft worst excuse ever.’ dismissed the rogue ‘You’ve got a crown now, you can do what you want.’

‘I’ll be there soon.’ I promised.

Varric slapped his knee in approval. ‘Damn straight! Alright you hear that crew? The Inquisitor is our honoured guest tonight at The Cock and Bull. That means a free round on me!’

Cheers and whistles came from several enthusiastic soldiers, with several men and women already heading off to make their way to the tavern despite it only being midday.

Poking a stubby finger at me, Varric grinned. ‘Don’t be too late,’ he warned playfully ‘we gotta lot to talk about.’

That brief moment of being relieved to be back at Skyhold was soon quashed as I marched up to the main courtyard. Between the waves and handshakes I felt a cold shadow come over me. Lifting my eyes to the sky above there was not a cloud to be seen, yet that chill lingered and I soon realised why. Two stern individuals peered down from the entrance of the main hall as I chatted with a group of mages. Like a wicked king and queen, Leliana with a baby in her arms, and Cullen, watched on from afar. Waiting and watching.

Why did they have to be there? I wasn’t ready for this.

Drawing a deep breath, I braced myself as I waved goodbye to the mages and ascended step after step towards them.

Maker if you exist, give me the strength not to cast a fireball into Leliana’s face.

The spymaster smiled at me with shark teeth, placing the baby in Cullen’s arms before suddenly embracing me as one would a dear sister. My body froze rigid as the foul creature held me close before releasing her claws. Sickened by the gesture, I remained deathly quiet and stared straight ahead.

‘Ophelia it is so wonderful to see you after all this time!’ oozed Leliana ‘We were so surprised to find out you were coming all this way to see us. And with no notice? It is generally good manners to let us know of these things, but let us forgive and forget just this once, no?’

Feeling the presence of the Commander looking at me with painful scrutiny, my eyes were too afraid to look over at him. In fact all I felt capable of doing was staring sternly at Leliana and ignoring the man, my brow furrowed and my jaw tight as I secretly ground my teeth.

With all the merriment in the world she turned to Cullen, running an affectionate hand along his arm. ‘And this is our new addition to Skyhold. Ophelia may I introduce our son, Valahorn Rutherford. Isn’t he beautiful?’

The spymaster was watching me intensely with a look on her face that suggested she was taking a great pleasure in tormenting me. What a delight for her to show off her child to me of all people. My eyes moved to Cullen’s arms, still avoiding his gaze. There was the baby that had caused me so much grief. Valahorn. Half Cullen, half Leliana. Clenching my jaw, I nodded and turned back to the Spymaster with an emotionless face. She would not have the joy of seeing my pain. That burning abyssal in my soul that wailed and screamed. No. My depression was buried deep inside and I would do everything in my power for it to remain there unnoticed.

‘Congratulations to you both.’ I replied coldly.

‘Thank you.’ replied Cullen in a more gentle tone than his companion.

My eyes continued to glare at Leliana. Let me face hate rather than the pain of a lost love. Let my attention focus on the foul creature before me for I couldn’t speak to Cullen, and I certainly couldn’t look at him in the eye.

‘So what brings you to us at Skyhold?’ Leliana asked, adding a little spitefully ‘Did you come to congratulate us on the birth of our child?’

Clenching my fists, my nails dug painfully into my palms. ‘Unfortunately no.’ I replied crisply ‘I’ve come here to collect my belongings and discuss some matters with Jowan about the Mage Order.’

‘Well then you must dine with us this evening?’ suggested Leliana, a smirk growing on her face. She was taking great delight now in taunting me and was not doing a good job at hiding it.

Cullen shifted beside her in annoyance. ‘Leliana I’m certain Ophelia has better things to do.’ he replied sternly.

Leliana raised her brows in surprise. ‘Better things than to catch up with old friends? We haven’t yet been able to congratulate the newlywed. I’m sure Ophelia would love to tell us about her wonderful royal wedding?’

I didn’t have to look at Cullen to know he was silently seething at the comment. I felt the same way.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t been wed yourself.’ I remarked casually, taking delight at the sour reaction from Leliana. Looking between the stern pair, I felt my confidence grow once more. My eyes locked with Cullen’s for a moment before turning back to the droll woman before me. ‘Thank you for the dinner invitation but I have a very important meeting scheduled for tonight. Now if that is all, I should be off to collect my belongings.’

Leliana bit her lip. ‘Oh my.’ she lamented, although it was evident she was feeling anything but sad. ‘This is awkward.’

Raising my brow, I failed to see what was. ‘What’s awkward?’ I asked suspiciously.

The spymaster tossed her red hair casually with her hand, a simpering smile on her lips. ‘Well after you left Skyhold, Cullen and I moved into your chambers.’ informed Leliana sweetly ‘And your chest was there at the end of our bed. I confess I didn’t know what to do with it….so I had it burned.’

Cullen turned to Leliana in surprise. ‘You did what?’

Delicately taking the baby from Cullen into her arms once more, the woman nodded slowly. ‘Well we were under the impression that Ophelia would never return to Skyhold so there was little choice but to destroy the items.’

‘You didn’t think to send them to her?’ he replied sternly, not believing what he was hearing.

Neither Cullen nor I could fathom the logic of Leliana. We both looked at her in disbelief, questioning her sanity. Cullen’s amber eyes looked to me apologetically, as if silently saying this was not my doing.

‘I hope there was nothing in there of importance?’ asked Cullen gently.

Before I could answer, Leliana interjected. ‘No there was nothing that I saw that was of any value. Besides I didn’t think she wanted the memories. Ophelia you must remember how you left here so angry? It’s not good for your health to hang onto that negativity. So I gave the chest to Harritt to throw in the furnace in the undercroft. I think that it was for the best.’

Shaking my head in disbelief, I was speechless. ‘Well then, thank you for riffling through my possessions and then burning all my stuff.’ I replied coldly ‘I really appreciate the gesture. And on that note, I’m off to see Jowan.’

Not waiting for another word to come out of her horrid lips, I descended the stairs once more.

Maker grant me strength not to murder that woman in her sleep.

Maybe Sierra wasn’t as horrible as she was made out to be? Maybe Sierra saw Leliana for who she truly was. A whey-faced harpy that deserved a knife in her gullet.

Cursing her under my breath I left the pair standing on the platform, no doubt both pleased that they had once again left me feeling utterly humiliated.

****

James Carter had served as a soldier under Commander Cullen’s army at Skyhold until the Inquisition victoriously had defeated Corypheus. After that he had returned to his wife and two daughters in Denerim, returning to his original post as royal guard at the palace. Having escorted the royal couple to Redcliffe in recent days, James was surprised to be called aside by the queen on a special quest. Queen Ophelia remembered James from their days at the keep, and she asked that he escort King Alistair to Skyhold’s herb garden the moment they arrived at the keep. Although curious at such an odd request, James was happy to serve his king and did not press the matter further.

That midday on their arrival to Skyhold, James swiftly led the king to the herb garden, as requested. Ophelia had asked him to keep an eye out for the child Kieran, the son of Morrigan. Although James did not know many of the children in the keep, he was very aware of the mysterious witch who wore strange clothes and spent all her time in the herb garden. A child was always with her, and that is how James knew of the boy Kieran.

‘There he is, Your Majesty.’ pointed out James, directing Alistair’s attention to the gazebo ‘That’s him there, reading on that bench.’

‘Thank you James.’ replied Alistair, his face a little peaky as he looked into the distance where the child was. ‘You and the guards may return to the stables, I am fine here by myself.’

Uncertainly the king stepped into a pleasant landscape brimming with elfroot, dragonthorn, witherstalk, spindleweed and deathroot. Rashvine nettle crept down the columns of the keep, and there were several planter boxes full of wild felandaris. A weathered stone gazebo sat by the wall of the keep, and lying across a bench in the centre of it lay a young boy reading a book. He seemed to be lost in the pages, his concentration so drawn to the words that he failed to notice Alistair approach until the man was standing directly over him.

‘Uh…hello.’ greeted Alistair nervously.

Startled by the man, Kieran dropped his book and sat himself up quickly. ‘Are you looking for mother?’

Alistair smiled, not knowing what to say. It was uncanny how much the boy reminded him of himself as a child. They shared same coloured hair that spiked a little at the front, and even the same square shaped face.

‘Uh yes I suppose I am looking for your mother.’ replied Alistair cheerfully, picking up the book and handing it back to its owner. ‘Is she around? I’m a friend of hers. I used to travel with her many years ago before you were born.’

‘She went to get some books in our room.’ informed Kieran shyly ‘She promised she'd teach me how to cast a ring of ice.’

‘Is that so?’ remarked Alistair with a smile ‘Then you know magic?’

Kieran stood a little taller, appearing proud of the fact. ‘Of course! Mother is a great mage. I’m going to be just like her one day. She said that I would be the greatest of all mages.’

Alistair grinned at the boy’s enthusiasm, something that reminded him of his own self at that age. ‘My name is Alistair by the way.’ he added, extending a hand.

The boy extended his hand politely in order to shake it. ‘I’m Kieran. It is a pleasure to meet you Alistair.’. Placing his book on the bench, the boy looked up at Alistair. ‘I’ll go tell her you are here.’

‘Let me come with you.’ suggested Alistair, fearing Kieran may not return otherwise ‘Perhaps you can show me some of your favourite books while I talk to your mother? I would love to see them.’

Kieran nodded, looking pleased. ‘Come on then, this way!’

The boy cheerfully led the way through the keep’s stone corridors, bounding up a flight of stairs and skipping down the hall to the last door. Without knocking, he swung the door open. Morrigan was sitting by the window, leafing through a particularly aged tome. Her eyes flashed to the door, spotting Kieran and Alistair, and her momentary smile transformed into a stone cold stare. Slamming the book shut, she instantly stood up from her seat.

‘Mother I met this man in the garden.’ informed Kieran cheerily ‘He said he was a friend of yours. He also asked to see some my favourite books. Can I show him the ones we got from Orlais?’

Morrigan’s demeanour was calm yet it was apparent she was on high alert. She refused to tear her gaze from Alistair, watching him almost fearfully. ‘Kieran my love, go play in the other room while I talk to my friend for a moment.’ 

‘I’ll go find some books.’ remarked Kieran, eagerly leaving the pair to find his collection.

Alistair raised his hands slowly, as if to placate a frightened horse. ‘Morrigan I come here with no ill intent.’ he informed in a soft voice ‘I only wished to meet him.’

The woman pursed her lips in annoyance. ‘We had an agreement that you would allow me to walk away. And that you would not follow. Yet here you are.’

‘All I wanted was to see him with my own eyes.’ replied Alistair ‘Maker knows I wasn’t even certain he existed until Michel de Chevin mentioned you and he were here at Skyhold.’

The witch’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘And pray tell why that golden haired cliché takes an interest in us?’

‘He doesn’t.’ reassured Alistair ‘You came up in conversation when I was talking about my travels during the Blight. Michel mentioned you were staying at Skyhold and that you had a son. I came to the only logical conclusion. That Kieran is the child we conceived all those years ago.’

Coldly she glared at the man, her hands raising to her hips. ‘And what of it? Do you wish to take him now? Now that you are king are you are here to claim your heir? Yes?’

Alistair shook his head. ‘Not at all. I just wanted to see my son. Is that such a strange request? He is half me, after all. Does he know…I mean, did you ever tell him about me?’

Realising her reaction may have been a little defensive, Morrigan lowered her hands from her hips. ‘I told him his father was a good man…I thought you deserved that much’ 

The king looked at her in surprise. ‘He’s changed you.’ observed Alistair kindly.

‘Don’t be absurd.’ replied Morrigan with a small smile.

Alistair chuckled, running a bashful hand across his jaw. ‘He has your eyes.’

‘And his father’s features.’ remarked Morrigan. Hesitating, she added quietly ‘Kieran is a handsome boy.’

‘Very.’ grinned Alistair, causing the witch to roll her eyes. ‘The most handsome of all.’

‘You’ve not changed much I see.’ observed Morrigan.

Growing serious, Alistair looked upon the woman with concern. ‘Have the years treated you well Morrigan? Where did you go after we parted?’

Her face drew long, and whether she wished to say it or not Alistair could tell Morrigan had struggled over the years.

‘We have lived in many places.’ she answered quietly ‘Some pleasant, some not quite so.’. Looking to the king, her tone softened. ‘I was sorry to hear about the death of Sierra. She was a brave woman.’

‘Thank you.’ nodded Alistair sadly ‘Sierra always admired you. She said you were the only one she could never outsmart.’

Morrigan smiled at the comment, decidedly pleased at the observation. She sighed, looking over to the next room where Kieran was piling books onto the floor. ‘Fine.’ she muttered ‘Kieran my love, come here for a moment.’

The boy returned to the room with several red volumes under his arm. ‘What is it mother?’

Morrigan extended her hand to Alistair. ‘Kieran, I have something important to tell you. This man here is your father, Alistair Theirin.’

The boy looked up at Alistair in surprise. ‘But I thought you said you were mother’s friend?’

Alistair and Morrigan exchanged a brief smile, remembering of a time perhaps when that was not entirely the truth.

‘Yes your mother and I were friends, and I am your father also.’ clarified Alistair politely ‘It’s an honour to finally meet you Kieran.’

The boy curiously looked upon the man, growing suddenly bashful of being before someone that claimed to be his father.

‘You have brought me some of your books I see?’ observed Alistair pleasantly, pointing to the ones Kieran was holding. ‘Which ones are they?’

Pleased with the distraction, Kieran sat on the ground and began to hold up the various volumes he had selected. Alistair threw Morrigan a nod, silently mouthing the words thank you. The witch nodded back with a pursed lips, a small smile concealed yet very much there. Sitting down she recommenced reading her tome as Alistair joined Kieran on the floor, eager to learn about the boy’s favourite books on magic.

****

The mages tower was empty when I crashed into the room, kicking table legs and pushing chairs in sheer frustration. However it appeared perhaps that I was not the first to rough up the place. With loose parchment scattered across the tables, candle stubs melted into their holders, and dried elfroot and deep mushroom spilled across the floor, the place looked a little lacklustre than in previous days.

Rolling up my sleeves, I grabbed a cloth and began to clean out the charred remnants in a glass beaker on the alchemists table. Rubbing and rubbing, the black would not budge and I ended up cursing the item before casting it aside next to the others. Some careless mage had obviously left some potions to burn out and had cooked the concoction into the very glass itself. A hint of putrid burnt sulphur lingered and I roughly opened the latch window to bring some air into the stale room. In my distraction I failed to notice the Commander at the door, who silently watched me from afar. His reflection caught my attention in the glass of the window and I felt my heart drop into my stomach. Catching my breath, I turned back to the alchemists table and with shaky hands grabbed another glass beaker and commenced to clean it.

‘May I come in?’ called out Cullen in a gentle voice, stepping into the room.

He looked about the place, searching for any other mages who might otherwise interrupt our privacy. To my dismay we were alone, and now I was regretting ever coming to this blasted keep. Alistair had been right, all that remained here were unpleasant memories of a time I’d rather now forget. 

‘I’m sorry for what happened before.’ apologised Cullen ‘Leliana’s insensitivity was uncalled for.’

Lifting a shaking hand to my hair, I pulled it behind my ear. Why after all that this man had done to me was I quivering like a sheep before a wolf? Feeling ashamed, I pretended to be even more preoccupied with the cloth and glass in my hand, rubbing it harder and harder.

‘Something you’re only becoming aware of just now?’ I muttered.

‘No.’ replied Cullen wearily ‘I’ve been well aware of that from the beginning. It doesn’t make it right however. Leliana considers you a threat and that is why she behaves the way she does.’. The Commander walked closer to the alchemist table, picking up a greenstone lying on the wooden surface. He fiddled with the rock, as if weighing up what to say. ‘For whatever reason you decided to come back here to Skyhold, I’m glad that you did.’ he added softly.

‘It was strictly for the purpose of meeting up with Jowan,’ I replied, adding coldly ‘and to collect my possessions. Nothing more.’

The man nodded, appearing unsurprised by my answer. Silently Cullen continued to twirl the stone in his palm, every now and then looking up to me. His expression was calm, yet his eyes lingered intensely as if he had missed looking at me. I knew that catching his eye would be my undoing, so I continued to focus on my beaker.

‘I hear I am to congratulate you on your recent marriage?’ observed Cullen ‘Jowan tells me it was a magnificent celebration.’

Placing my flask on the table with a loud thud, I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Is this how it is to be now? False civilities? You congratulating me on marrying Alistair?’

Cullen frowned. ‘What do you expect me to say to that?’

‘The truth would be a good place to start.’ I replied shortly ‘Or do you wish to pretend we are mere acquaintances? Are we to pretend now that we weren’t to be married not too long ago? You seem to be excellent at sweeping these things under the rug.’

Cullen placed the greenstone loudly on the table. ‘Do you wish me to say what I really think? You may not like it Ophelia, I never was good at honeyed words.’

‘Say it.’ I demanded, daring him to speak his mind ‘Just don’t waste my time with this nonsense.’

The Commander sighed, stepping away from the table. He walked across the room, running his hand across the desks as he moved. Finally he turned to me, serious and solemn. ‘Your marriage to Alistair revolts me. When I think about what has happened it physically hurts right here.’. With a strong fist, Cullen hit his breast. ‘Yet that is the reality of it. Whether I like it or not you are married to the King of Ferelden.’. Cullen cursed under his breath, laughing bitterly as he turned away. ‘I do not like it.’ he added angrily ‘Indeed I hate it. I loathe it. My love for you is as strong as it ever was, despite fortune being determined at tearing us apart at every turn. That is the truth.’

‘Tell me why I should believe anything that comes out of your mouth?’ I muttered darkly.

The Commander returned to the table, his fingers running across the wood. ‘Because you love me,’ acknowledged Cullen gently ‘and you never stopped. Neither of us did.’

‘Wrong Cullen, you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.’ I scorned ‘You sent me away, too preoccupied with your warmongering to see that I was scared and alone. I was desperate for someone to tell me I would not be forced into the humiliation of marrying someone I did not want to marry. You all sent me packing, more concerned with your own necks than whatever fate waited for me. I hate you for what you did. I wish you were dead.’

The Commander stood unwaivered in front of me, bearing into my soul with his amber eyes. ‘Do you want me dead for what happened?’ he asked sternly ‘Is that what you want? Do you think I am deserving of death for choosing to stay here and honouring the agreement between the Inquisition and your husband? The one that ensured our soldiers were not slaughtered by the red templars right before the Inquisition fell and Thedas was consumed by evil? Would it have been better if I defied Alistair’s ultimatum and whisked you away, leaving our army to disband before our very eyes. Would that have satisfied you when the realm was coated in blood, and death was the only hope on the horizon? We would be together, so let the rest of the realm hang? Is that the message I should have sent out?’

The dismal reality was laid out so perfectly by the man. It was perfectly clear what could have happened had Alistair pulled his men and women from the Inquisition at that dire time. It made me feel angry at the king, such a stupid threat to be made at such a time. Alistair was wrong to have done what he did, but so were the Inquisition for accepting his decision so readily.

Shaking my head, I refused to accept Cullen’s answer. ‘You made a promise to come for me after the battle was over. You never came for me.’

‘I wanted to.’ Cullen replied in low voice ‘Did you think the moment you left Skyhold I simply moved on and forgot you existed? The very thought almost drove me insane!’. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword. ‘This was what got me through those days and nights. I fought and I fought and I fought. Body after body fell and none of it mattered, because I was already drowning. But I knew….I knew that if I were to defeat the final encampment of Red Templars in the Arbor Wilds that the marriage would be forgotten. Alistair would forsake his false threats and you would be free to come back to Skyhold. When I returned after the victory I waited for you Ophelia. But you never came back. You returned to Alistair in Denerim. So I waited and hoped and prayed to the Maker that soon you would return. The months passed by and I was certain there was a reason you had not yet wed. I was certain you would not marry…and then you did.’

‘So this is my fault?’ I laughed.

Tiredly the man ran his hand through his wavy hair. ‘Of course not. The fault lies with neither of us. You were forced into a marriage and there was nothing either of us could do. I led you to believe there was because I knew I wouldn’t have gone on without that false hope. But there wasn’t any hope. And so I stayed here and took care of the mother of my child. And now my son.’

Repulsed by the matter of fact way Cullen explained his actions I rolled my eyes. ‘So you went back to the woman you so fervently declared to me that you were not in love with? Leliana?! Do you realise how that makes me feel?’

‘People are complicated creatures,’ observed Cullen sternly ‘sometimes we do things we know are wrong for the purpose of achieving some good from it. Plain and simple I wanted to be apart of my child’s life and I knew with Leliana there was no other way but to be by her side. So yes I went back to her. Whether you believe it or not, my affections never changed. What I did was purely done for Valahorn. Leliana bore my child and for that I will always share a bond, but there is nothing more to it than that.’

Brushing my hands of soot and ash, I stood back from the table. ‘Well I wish you and your family all the very best. Send Leliana my sincerest apologies that I can’t dine with you both tonight and toast to my wedding.’

The Commander stepped towards me, his voice growing lower into a growl. ‘Ophelia-’

A small cough distracted us both, and we turned to see Jowan at the door.

‘Am I interrupting something here?’ the mage with a smirk.

‘No come in Jowan, please.’ I replied hastily, glaring at Cullen.

The Commander remained close, leaning towards my ear so that Jowan could not hear. ‘We both are wounded by the people we now with.’ he whispered ‘I love Leliana as much as you do Alistair, of that I would swear my life on. But know this, I love you. No matter what, I will never stop loving you.’

Cullen’s intense amber eyes held mine and I felt the air disappear from my lungs. Helpless in that moment, I felt completely under the Commander’s control. Wilfully he held my attention until there nothing left except me and him. Cullen had this power over me that was frightening. I feared it and yet I desperately yearned for it. Something inside me wanted him to grab my arm and pull me away to wherever he wanted. To bend me to his will. To punish me no matter who was to blame. I wanted to fall to my knees and do whatever he wanted. How could someone hold such power over another? My submission stemmed from the hardship I had endured my entire life. At the mercy of so much cruelty now I was lost without someone to serve. Cullen was my master and all I wanted to do was serve him. How could looking into his eyes stir so many feelings? Feelings I had shut out and moved on from. I was thankful when he finally turned away, and once again I could breathe.

The Commander passed Jowan, the pair exchanging a curt greeting in passing. As Cullen left, Jowan turned back to throw me a smirk. He said nothing about the exchange, knowing better than to inquire. 

‘You’re back.’ Jowan observed with an amused expression. ‘Or perhaps you’re about to run away? From the look on your face I’m certain I arrived just at the right moment.’

My only reply was a heavy sigh. ‘Jowan can I give you a word of advice? Never get involved with Leliana or Cullen. Steer clear of the pair of them. If you don’t they will drag you down into their murky sea of chaos and you will find yourself unable to swim.’

The mage looked down at his sleeves, brushing them briskly. ‘Sound advice to be sure.’ he observed quietly.

‘Come here.’ I grinned, moving in for a hug. The tall mage towered over me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders as I held on around his chest. ‘Admit it, you missed me?’

‘As the moon misses the sun.’ quipped Jowan ‘You cannot imagine the drivel I’ve had to deal with here on a day to day basis.’

‘Is that why the tower is in such a shambles?’ I asked, looking around the room. ‘I thought you ran a tight ship?’

‘I’ve been away.’ he muttered, casting me a sheepish look ‘I attended some royal wedding and hid in the shadows like a galley rat.’. With a guilty smile, he bit his lip. ‘Sorry I never got to see you face to face.’

Patting him on the arm, I knew there was nothing to forgive. ‘Forget about it, I didn’t want to be there either. Given the choice I wouldn’t have shown up at all.’

The mage chuckled at my reply. ‘Would it be a foolish hope to think you are staying here at Skyhold for a while? Although be warned the atmosphere around here is about to change and not for the better. Did you know what your husband was planning to do? With the templars and mages?’

‘Ugh,’ I grimaced ‘of course not. Not until it was too late and the decision had been made. Worst decision Alistair ever made. Actually I came here to talk to you about that.’

‘Did the king send you here to butter me up with false reassurance that the mages won’t be prisoners once more?’ sighed Jowan ‘You can save your breath, I already know what is going to happen. I suppose this is my problem now.’

Looking like the cat that got the cream, I shook my head. ‘You suppose wrong. Guess who is come back to aid you in running The Mage Order?’

His dark eyes lighting up, Jowan appeared more than pleased. Clapping his hands several times in delight, he beamed in approval. ‘Splendid. Most splendid!’. Sweeping over to the bookshelf, the mage procured two small glasses and a soft flask from behind an old book. ‘We need to toast this moment.’ he announced, pouring a strange red liquid into the thimble sized glasses. ‘This is Nevarren Dragonsblood. Extremely rare.’

‘Is that why you’re hiding it behind that copy of The Practical Handbook of Chantry Magic?’ I grinned.

‘No mage in their right mind would care to read it.’ sneered Jowan. He sighed, lifting his glass. ‘To new beginnings. May tomorrow be a better day than today.’

Shrugging I drank, wincing in the aftermath. ‘Three sheets to the wind! That was like drinking fire!’

Jowan chuckled. ‘Hence the name.’

‘May tomorrow be a better day than today.’ I repeated curiously. ‘Well I was forced into a royal marriage, so what’s your gripe at present?’

Jowan’s demeanour grew dark very fast. Quietly he picked at his sleeve for a minute or two, only to look up and force a smile on his face once more. ‘Oh nothing, pay no attention to a grumbling mage. Just my past having a knack of always catching up with me. Guess I shouldn’t have called Madame Ruthie the worst cook in Thedas so many times, eh? I haven’t had a warm supper delivered to my door in over a fortnight.’

‘She’s the worst.’ I agreed, sitting down by the fire. ‘Jowan I know how this news will affect all us mages. Things in life are never perfect, but I can use my position as Queen to ensure the templars don’t take advantage of the mages here. There is hope we may see better days.’

Crouching down to pick up a log by the fire grate, Jowan grew quiet. ‘Have you ever felt like you’re about to sail into a storm?’ he murmured, staring into the flames ‘You’ve come to terms that you cannot avoid it, so all you can do is hang on for dear life and hope that you remain on your ship by the end.’

‘The mages and templars will argue but this doesn’t have to turn into a storm.’ I observed gently ‘Have faith Jowan, we may see a way around it yet.’

The mage turned to me, stirring from his thoughts. ‘Of course, the mages and templars.’ he replied, obviously distracted by something else. Throwing the log onto the flames, the mage grew quiet once more as he stared intensely into the crackling fire. He looked troubled. Extremely troubled.

Uneasily I sipped at the Dragonsblood, suspecting there were more problems at Skyhold than met the eye….and suddenly for the first time since I arrived back at the keep I felt like I was truly home.


	97. The Deceived Leader

The thud of eager wooden spoons scraping against the side of bowls and loud slurping of stew filled the main hall that late afternoon. Tired soldiers, weary from a sun drenched day of duties, had spread out across the hall. They sat at the long wooden tables as the cooks dished out an early supper.

Wild wispy haired and red cheeked, Madame Ruthie was barking orders at a few kitchen hands who were slow to hand out the loaves of bread, snapping her fingers furiously at the wide eyed apprentices. Her old cooks had returned to their homes in South Reach and she was now left with the time consuming task of having to oversee dinner in the hall until her new staff understood what needed to be done.

‘Sean get those potatoes to the table over there.’ she ordered briskly ‘And take that pot o’ stew to the table in the corner. Nelly stop gawking at them sell swords and hand out the bannocks. Hurry up girl, we haven’t got all day!’. Pacing the hall, Madame Ruthie’s underskirts swished along the wooden floor, sweeping crumbs and dirt along with it. She spotted the Commander sitting at a barren table with a few of his officers, chatting amongst themselves. ‘Goodness me, why hasn’t Commander Cullen’s table got any food on it?!’ she barked at a timid girl standing in the shadows. ‘That pot o’ stew over there isn’t going to serve itself girl, go get it!’

The girl quickly rushed over to ladle the hot stew into the empty bowls, while Madame Ruthie turned once more. Her attention was now drawn to the end of the hall where a group of Ferelden soldiers from the royal guard had just appeared. Madame Ruthie threw her hands in the air as she stomped towards them.

‘Maker help me, I s’pose you men are expectin’ supper aswell?!’ she cried ‘Don’t mind that there be no word sent to me that we were expectin’ guests this evening. No one tells me a thing! Barely got enough food for this lot, and now strangers arrive at my hall wanting to be fed.’

‘Come off it Ruthie, you know half of us from when we were at the Inquisition.’ replied one of the guardsmen, kicking his boots against the wall ‘Just get us a table and serve us some of that watery muck.’

She crossed her arms in annoyance, watching the mud from his boots scatter on the floor. ‘Watery muck is it? Well you can all bugger off and spend the night with empty guts for all I care. If that’s the tone you’re havin’ with me you can all be hanged!’

The guards laughed, turning to each other in amusement. ‘Daft woman, is that how you welcome the King of Ferelden? Telling him to bugger off at his own keep, eh?’

Her eyes flashed angrily across the group, stopping fearfully as she spotted one man at the back of the group. Tall and handsome in plate armour different from the rest of the guards, Alistair smiled politely at the woman. Dropping into a desperate curtsy, Madame Ruthie lowered her head. ‘Forgive me Your Majesty, I did not know you were with these men.’

The guards chuckled, and Alistair nodded graciously at the woman. ‘It’s fine, please don’t worry about it. In fact I’d probably turn away this ungrateful lot if they called my stew watery muck.’

‘Let me get you a table. Come right this way.’ replied Madame Ruthie hastily, bustling past the groups of soldiers as she led the way. ‘If I’d known his majesty was at Skyhold I’d have had supper sent to your chambers. I’d have made something better than tonight’s stew.’. Shaking her head, she cursed silently to herself ‘Maker forgive me, this meal ain’t meant for royalty.’

Beckoning the men forward to follow her, she led the king and his guards to the head table where Cullen and his officers sat. ‘There’s room enough for you all here at the Commander’s table. Help yourself to the ale, it’s not all for Willie over there despite what it may look like.’

A few soldiers seated at the table cackled, throwing scraps of bread at a drunk soldier sitting in the corner cradling a jug of ale. Even Cullen was chuckling, appearing happy that evening. He was momentarily distracted by the banter amongst his men before looking up towards the king’s guards behind Madame Ruthie.

‘Commander Cullen, you got proper company this evenin’.’ informed Madame Ruthie, standing aside for the king. ‘His majesty King Alistair will be dining. ‘Tis a great honour to be sure.’

Cullen’s merriment faded fast as he caught the eye of the king, a king who had also just noticed the Commander. Their faces grew icy, knowing they were last people in Thedas that should be dining together. Slowly Cullen stood from his seat and Alistair stood on the opposite side of the table, solemn and serious.

‘King Alistair, what an unexpected surprise.’ observed Cullen with as much politeness as he could muster. His soldiers also rose out of respect, equally shocked to see the King of Ferelden before them when all they were expecting was supper. ‘You are welcome to Skyhold.’

‘Knight-Commander Cullen.’ nodded Alistair, sitting down at the table. His guardsmen followed and sat with the soldiers, all blissfully unaware of the hatred that the king and Commander felt for each other.

The serving staff frantically brought out plate after plate of food, piling as much as they could on the table before the king. Alistair politely thanked the staff and proceeded to eat, tearing chunks of bread and munching away in silence. Cullen watched the king as he slurped away at his stew, as if waiting for something to happen. Yet nothing did and finally the Commander returned to his own meal, exchanging a few civil words with a soldier beside him. However the conversation soon lagged and unable to remain quiet, the Commander decided to finally address the king.

‘Ophelia failed to mention that you accompanied her to the keep. In fact, no one seemed any the wiser that you were here at all?’ observed Cullen suspiciously ‘That is a little strange?’

Taking several more slurps of stew, Alistair was in no great hurry to justify his actions to the templar. ‘There is nothing strange. I arrived a little later, having had some business to attend to first.’ he finally answered, refusing to reveal anything else. ‘Now that is sorted, here I am.’

‘Here you are.’ replied Cullen flatly, throwing his bread onto the plate before him.

Alistair dropped his spoon into the empty bowl, his attention falling hard on the Commander. ‘Do you have a problem with me being here?’ he asked sternly ‘Considering this is my keep on my land, I don’t see any issue in coming here.’

‘Should I have a problem?’ asked Cullen dryly ‘Ownership aside, your reasons for being here seemed obscure. Tradition dictates where a king visits, the household he intends to visit is usually given notice. Or are you simply here to extend the olive branch? 

Indifferent to the smirking of the Commander before him, Alistair ladled more stew into his bowl. ‘You disappoint me Cullen. Here I’ve come all the way from Denerim and you press me on etiquette.’ Looking at the Commander with a small smile, Alistair decided to annoy the man a little more. ‘Actually I’m more insulted that you haven’t congratulated me on my recent wedding.’

‘You wish me to offer felicitations on your marriage to my fiancé?’ replied Cullen cynically ‘I didn’t realise that was the protocol in Ferelden these days? Must we be civil to thieves?’

Alistair flickered a dark pair of eyes at the templar. ‘As civil as we are to murderers. I didn’t realise killing a woman in cold blood was the protocol of the Commander of the Inquisition…yet here we are.’

‘Yes here we are?’ repeated Cullen coldly ‘Enough of this dancing about. Is this a call of vengeance then? Or have you simply come here to crow?’

‘I came here to eat.’ replied Alistair with a fake smile, commencing to chow down on his second bowl of potatoes and gravy.

‘I can understand your bitterness.’ Cullen shrugged, taking a sip of his flagon. ‘Ophelia is your wife, but she loves me. I imagine it’s not the first time you’ve experienced that predicament?’

Infuriated by the comment, Alistair shoved his bowl forcefully at Cullen. The contents splashed onto the Commander, but he was too entertained to care. Instead he chuckled, seemingly pleased to have finally acquired the reaction he was after.

‘Spilled your bowl there, my king?’

‘I will cut you from nose to navel if you ever dare insult Sierra’s memory in front of me again.’ Alistair threatened, casting his eyes to the uneasy soldiers sitting beside him. ‘I don’t care how many of your adoring soldiers watch on. You don’t even hint at her memory in front of me. Do I make myself clear?’

Cullen nodded, grabbing the bowl and calmly placing it back before Alistair. ‘Naturally we are never going to be the most amicable of dinner companions.’ he observed, looking to the uneasy soldiers. Nodding at them in reassurance, they recommenced to eat and drink once more, throwing the occasional strange look towards king and Commander.

‘I was unable to protect Sierra from you in the end, but I will make sure I do everything in my power to protect Ophelia.’ warned Alistair in a deathly whisper ‘I’m going to enjoy making sure you never get your hands on her again.’

‘That may prove difficult considering her feelings towards me.’ replied Cullen, not appearing too concerned at the king’s proclamation. ‘The irony of imprisoning a person is while you own their body, you can never claim their mind so easily.’

‘Do you truly believe that?’ asked Alistair in disgust ‘Is your ego that inflated to think Ophelia secretly pines after you after everything that you have done? I’ve learnt a great deal about you in the last few months than I care to know. I know her feelings better than anyone.’

Appearing amused at the statement, the Commander tilted his head curiously. ‘You and her had a lot to talk about I suppose? It must be hard for you having to hear your wife talk about me. Especially during this honeymoon phase, I’m flattered I even got a mention.’. The templar smirked, taking pleasure in taunting the king. ‘So how is the honeymoon going? Are you both in love yet? Or is there something standing in the way? Someone? Let me give you some advice Alistair. You and Michel both stole her from me. Michel learned the hard way, but he learned. In the end Ophelia will always love me. She belongs to me. She’s mine.’

‘Are you that foolish to speak about the Queen of Ferelden, to me of all people, as if she was your common property?’ replied Alistair in disgust ‘Are you that delusional? Do you think after she had to witness you have a child with Leliana that she would feel anything but hate for you?’

Cullen eyed the man up and down, the smirk ever present on his face. ‘She was my fiancé Alistair, and you took her away from the life she wanted. King or not, your actions were not as regal as your new title. Ophelia may be your wife, but don’t be disappointed to learn that you cannot have what she has already given to me. You stole her and used her to gain favour in your kingdom. She knows it. I know it. We all know it.’

‘Yet she didn’t seem all that upset marrying me Cullen.’ observed Alistair in amusement ‘In fact she took her duties on board rather well.’

The Commander shifted in agitation, finally taking the bait as it was dangled before him. ‘So the king uses his position to get what he wants? Fuck what he wants? And you have the nerve to judge me?’

‘Unlike you, I respect Ophelia Theirin.’ replied Alistair ‘She is a loyal friend, as was another in your service that appeared to have similar qualms with you. I think I’m seeing a pattern here? The good ones don’t get along with you, do they?’

Cullen appeared confused, only to suddenly realise who Alistair was talking about. The Commander’s stern face broke out into a wide smile, apparently highly entertained as his deep laugh resonated across the loud chatter of the room. ‘Maker, oh that is brilliant.’ he chuckled ‘You speak of Michel? Ser Michel de Chevin! I had assumed that pompous fool had returned to his frills in Orlais?’

‘He is a loyal servant to the crown and serves the kingdom of Ferelden,’ affirmed Alistair ‘and has done so ever since leaving this place.’

‘Loyal servant.’. Cullen echoed, tapping his lips in playful contemplation ‘I have many names for Ser Michel, but loyal servant has never been one of them. Oh Alistair, I did not think there would be a day that I would find common ground with you, but here it is. Perhaps you and I will get along yet?’

Alistair cast a bored look at the man. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

‘Well then let me be the first one to offer you my condolences.’ smirked Cullen ‘For if Michel de Chevin is at your Palace you can rest assure that he is balls deep in your beloved Queen and has been for quite some time.’

Alistair stood up angrily at the table. ‘You cross the line again and again. Are you that stupid?’

Pushing back his chair, Cullen stood up abruptly to join the angry king. ‘No but it appears that you are.’ he replied darkly ‘You’ll learn the hard way and I look forward to immensely.’

‘Get out of my sight,’ ordered Alistair angrily ‘lest I change my mind and execute you here and now on the spot.’

The main hall grew deathly quiet as the men and women drew their attention to the men standing face to face on opposite sides of the table. Not a spoon, knife or fork clattered, all held precariously still in anticipation of what was to come.

Cullen drained his flagon, gulping down the frothy ale before throwing it on the table loudly before him. ‘It’s been a pleasure as always Your Majesty, but I think I’m done.’ he announced coldly, marching out of the hall as the crowd fearfully watched on.

****

That evening Jowan and I gathered the mages at Skyhold to discuss the new terms that the King of Ferelden had laid out for our Order. Not surprisingly there were few pleased faces around the battlements, and a fair bit of anxiety at the prospect of being under the watchful eye of the templars once more. All the reassuring in the world wasn’t going to change the fact that the templars would be living with the mages, and sadly Jowan and I suspected the meeting would reveal itself to be pointless. Nevertheless we waited patiently until the mages had arrived, and talked them through the proposal. After half an hour or so of unsuccessfully trying to rally the spirits of the despondent men and women I was beginning to wish Jowan and I had continued drinking his secret stash of Dragonsblood rather than be here. From the look on Jowan’s face I suspected he felt the same.

Jowan stood on the battlements from the higher platform beside the mage tower, looking down at the hundreds of gathered mages that spilled out across the walls of the keep. His tall stature, dark hair and black robes gave him a rather portentous appearance, casting his ominous presence before the masses. There was a reason that Jowan led the mages. Anyone that had met him knew that he was a man wise beyond his years and strong enough to carry it. He was sage, kind and fearsome all at once. His knowledge of the arcane lore was unmatched, and his determination to fight for the rights of the mages was strong. Indeed he was an impressive mage that many looked up to.

‘This isn’t like before, we need to remember that.’ called out Jowan ‘The Templar Order may be moving here, and I know you think we will lose what footing we have here, but you need to remind yourselves that this isn’t so.’

‘What’s to be gained?’ scoffed one of the mages close to the platform.

‘We gain more of Skyhold than ever before.’ pointed out Jowan. His hand pointed to the tower. ‘Look at this pitiful structure that we stand upon now. The mage tower. It squeezes in thirty mages at best if you’re all pressed together, so poky and cramped you can barely extended a staff let alone conduct any real business in the place. But now we can branch out and move into the main keep. We can claim entire rooms and set up alchemist labs. We can have training quarters for spells. And storage rooms!’

‘Yeah they get the barracks and we get shoved in the dungeon.’ called out a disgruntled mage.

‘Half the dungeon is ours.’ corrected Jowan with a smirk ‘As is half the barracks.’. Brushing his hand at the chuckles from the crowd, the mage continued. ‘Look I don’t profess to be a fortune teller, but if I had to guess I would say the barracks would serve the templars better, as would the training circles in the courtyard. What do we care for grubby rooms with weapon racks? The library in the main keep and towers, even the main keep itself would better serve the mages for the many rooms it provides. Naturally there is going to have to be a bit of give and take on some of the areas in Skyhold such as the main hall, stables and the under croft. We all need a place to eat and craft weapons, whether it be mage or templar.’

‘Yes but are they willing to work with us?’ asked one of the senior mages ‘In order to share you must have two parties willing to share.’

Jowan nodded at the man. ‘Soon I will sit down with the Templar Order, with Knight-Commander Cullen and Rylen, and write up a proper agreement on the usage of the keep. We will not suffer the indignity of a poorly run Order just because we are forced to share our residence with another group.’

An older Ferelden man pointed heatedly at the grand enchanter who was standing to the side of Jowan. ‘Fiona you promised us liberation from the templars. We followed you because of this. How can you stand by and allow this to happen?’

‘It’s hardly Fiona’s fault that this has happened.’ defended Jowan, rolling his eyes at the comment.

The elvish woman stepped closer to the edge, placing a thanking hand on Jowan’s arm. ‘It’s fine, let me answer this.’ she murmured, moving to address the crowd below. ‘Now is the time to face facts and not dwell in ideology. We have little choice as to where the Order goes, as you were well aware of when you rebelled. That made us vulnerable, and we know now that people take advantage when you are vulnerable. Being at Skyhold provides us with stability. I am not blind to the mistakes I have made but at least we know we can trust the King of Ferelden better than former alliances we have made. If trouble arises here at Skyhold we have a monarch to petition to. We have a monarch that isn’t connected to the bias of the Chantry. I for one feel at ease with this situation.’

The crowd of mages murmured amongst each other, with more nods of agreement than not.

‘Yeah we have a monarch that was a templar.’ yelled out another mage ‘Who’s to say the king isn’t still loyal to the Chantry?’

‘You might want to add to that.’ whispered Jowan, looking over to me with a grimace ‘It’s a fair point.’. Sighing I nodded, moving to the edge of the platform. ‘Yes King Alistair was once a templar,' I answered 'but his ties with the Templar Order came to an end when he became a Grey Warden. And his ties the Grey Warden’s came to an end when he claimed the throne of Ferelden. We can trust the King of Ferelden to look out for our best interests. As you can trust me to ensure the mages are not bullied back into another form of Circle Tower. My role here will be to keep a watchful eye that nothing like that ever happens again.’

‘Are there any other questions?’ asked Fiona, looking into a crowd of shifting eyes and shakes of heads.

‘Then I think this meeting is over.’ Jowan observed, sounding relieved. ‘Night is upon us and dinner will be served in the tower for any who want to further discuss any concerns.’

The mages began to shuffle away, and Jowan, Fiona and I watched them silently. 

Turning to me, Jowan lifted a cynical brow. ‘Well that went better than I thought.’

‘You were half expecting to be stoned to death up there, admit it.’ I joked, patting him on the back. ‘Good job, they really look up to you. I don’t know how you manage it, but you have a way with them.’

‘They’re fearful.’ frowned Jowan ‘My words fell onto deaf ears. I can feel nothing but their fear and it makes me rather apprehensive.’

‘Fear comes from the unknown.’ observed Fiona, casting her green eyes across the dispersing crowd. ‘These people recall a time when the templars abused their trust. What they don’t realise is this is not the same time, place or situation of days gone by. It will take some getting used to but I believe they will begin to see their new path before too long.’

Jowan crossed his arms across his chest, turning towards the mountains. ‘It still doesn’t sit well with me that your husband came to this decision without consulting anyone from the Mage Order.’ he observed, casting me a dry look. ‘We can tell our people you will ensure their freedom is kept, but if Alistair didn’t even involve you in this decision surely that says something?’

I was frustrated that this was being brought up again, as if it were somehow my fault. ‘What do you want me to say?’ I replied irritably ‘He’s the king and he made a decision that affects his kingdom. Am I annoyed that he didn’t think to ask me? Sure. But then again, why would he really care what I thought? We’re not lovers Jowan, surely you see that any decisions he makes are based on the benefit of the kingdom and what is best for his people. My opinion falls far down the ladder of concern these days.’

‘So nothing has changed since you were the Inquisitor then?’ teased Jowan.

‘I get a crown these days,’ I replied with a grin ‘and a key to the prison at Denerim Palace where I enjoy prodding smug little mages called Jowan.’

The mage grimaced. ‘Have I told you how magnificent you look today, your Majesty?’ he observed jokingly ‘That black top really brings out the darkness in your soul.’

Fiona cast a frown towards us, her manner growing a little colder. ‘You both acting like children over this arrangement does our Order little credit. Alistair has done a great deal for us and we should be grateful. It is more than Anora was willing to offer us, which if you recall was exile from Ferelden?’

‘Be exiled from Ferelden or be joined at the hip with the Templar Order. Tough decision.’ I replied dryly.

‘I need a cup of tea.’ sighed Jowan, turning for the stairs. ‘There’s nothing a cup of tea won’t solve.’

‘Unless there is some solution to hundreds of years of hostility between mages and templars floating at the bottom of your chamomile I think you’re wrong there.’ I muttered.

With an amused shake of his head, Jowan left Fiona and I alone on the platform. 

Strange as it was, I couldn’t help but feel a pair of intense green eyes upon me. Looking up in surprise, Fiona was carefully examining at me as one would a spider in a jar. 

‘Congratulations on your marriage.’ she remarked quietly ‘They say Denerim was filled with joy and celebration. I heard…’. She appeared a little unsettled, revealing that same crease of the brow that Cassandra sported when carrying a worry.

‘Fiona?’ I replied uncertainly.

The elf turned to me with pursed lips. ‘…I heard that you had a beautiful ceremony in the Cathedral and that Alistair wore the ceremonial armour of his father, Maric Theirin.’

Confused as to why Fiona cared to know about such things, I resided to believe she was a secret stickler for royal weddings. ‘Ah no not exactly. Alistair wore Maric’s armour at the wedding banquet, not the ceremony. His grooms coat was made by some well-known Orlesian tailor.’. Frowning, I couldn’t remember the name. ‘Jasper-Claude or something that like. Honestly I have no idea.’

‘Does Alistair enjoy the popular fashions then?’ asked Fiona with a small smile.

Grinning, I realised she was being seriously. ‘Far from it. He’s your typical soldier really, would be happier wearing a tarnished steel breastplate each and every day. Including on his wedding I suspect.’

‘So what did he wear at the wedding?’ asked Fiona.

Why did she care what Alistair wore? ‘He wore a deep royal blue tunic with a white frilled undershirt. It looked a lot nicer than it sounds, trust me. Although he really looked the part of a King at the wedding banquet. That gold armour and crown was spectacular. Everyone kept on saying he looked exactly like Maric. I mean I don’t know, all I had to go by was those oil paintings of Maric in the grand hall of the palace…and well, I couldn’t really say whether there was a similarity or not.’. Grinning at the woman, I raised a brow. ‘You’ve seen one king posing beside a hound with a sword in his hand, you’ve seen them all. Am I right?’

Fiona did not appeared amused in the slightest.

‘Ah,’ I continued with frown ‘but yes many people said he was the spitting image of Maric. Eamon and Teagan saw it. It kind of became a bit of a running joke when one of the elder lords accidentally addressed Alistair as Maric at the banquet.’

The grand enchanter smiled. ‘Thank you.’ she replied warmly. Placing a hand on my forearm, Fiona revealed a serious look. ‘Ophelia, may I offer some advice?’

‘Of course?’ I replied, uncertain as to why Fiona was acting so odd. Most likely she was furious at the new arrangement of templars and mages relocating to Skyhold. Perhaps she wasn’t interested in the wedding but was merely being polite, waiting to blast me for my husband’s decision. Anticipating the sharp words, I decided to put her mind at ease. ‘Fiona I know this situation with the templars is far from ideal but I want you to know I will do everything I can to ensure the liberties of the mages are respected.’

The grand enchanter nodded, accepting my words but evidently not being interested in them. ‘Being a Grey Warden and a mage, my work has always come first.’ she observed solemnly ‘Marriage was not something I ever considered an option.’. She frowned, appearing troubled by her unspoken thoughts. ‘Duty has a way of pushing aside everything that the heart desires. I’m certain you understand that all too well?’

Nodding at her observation, I was completely at a loss as to what Fiona was pertaining to.

‘I have experienced the same disappointment of lost love, but for me I knew there was no other way.’ continued Fiona ‘The plight of the Grey Wardens and the mages required such sacrifice, as you and Jowan have grown to learn. And there are some causes that are more important than our own affections. But had I…’. She paused again uncertainly, her green eyes looking seriously into mine. ‘…had I considered my options again, perhaps I would have chosen differently. Let me appeal to you not to follow in my footsteps. Ophelia, you have a chance at living a life few mages could ever hope for. Your marriage to Alistair Theirin is an honour and privilege that should be embraced.’

‘Fiona…’ I replied uncomfortably, unable to fathom what the mage was implying. ‘If you fear I’m going to neglect the Mage Order because of my duty to Ferelden I can assure you-‘

She frowned, shaking her head. ‘No I am saying the opposite of that. Let me speak plainly. Jowan and I are more than capable of running this Order. Overly capable. You know the boy has taken to this position like a duck to water. So there is no reason for you to be here. You should stay in Denerim with Alistair and learn to be his Queen.’

I chuckled in confusion. There had to something I was missing and yet I couldn’t for the life of me know what that was. ‘Learn to be his Queen?’ I grinned ‘Fiona is everything….okay?’

Her expression was solemn, if not a little apprehensive. ‘There are things that I have left unsaid for so long now that it seems a lost cause to even mention them. I would not bring them to light if not a stronger urge propelled me to intervene and urge you to leave your history behind you. I know what keeps you here, we all do.’

‘You question my motives at being here?’ I replied a little angrily ‘Have I given reason to suggest my actions have never been faithful to the cause?’

Fiona shook her head. ‘You and I are strong women who have led men into battle. We know who we are. We know who they are. However like me, I fear you have a weakness to certain men of authority.’

‘Cullen.’ I stated flatly.

Fiona nodded. ‘Yes.’

At a loss, I shrugged. ‘Why do you care?’

The mage looked irritated at the question. ‘Who if not I should care? All I’ve ever wanted was the best for him, no matter how lacking I was to fill that role.’

‘You wanted the best for Cullen?’ I frowned.

‘No.’ she replied impatiently. Noticing my confusion, Fiona sighed. ‘There are things I must say to you and you alone. This is a secret I have kept for a long time and it is not something I reveal to you lightly.’. Fiona appeared to be silently examining me, as if weighing up a decision whether to tell me this secret or not. ‘There are some truths best left forgotten, for nearly all that know the real story have now fallen from this realm.’. Conflicted with herself, she turned. ‘Everything in my heart tells me to walk away and yet…I know all too well what it is like to be infatuated with a man that you cannot be with.’

‘I’m not infatuated with anyone.’ I replied defensively.

The elf did not believe me in the slightest, merely pursing her lips tighter as she looked upon me. ‘I was a Grey Warden when I met Maric. He had already been wed to Rowan but it was a loveless marriage. He and I, however, shared a love more intense than anything either of us had ever imagined. A once in a lifetime kind of love.’

Disbelieving what I had heard, I stared at the woman in surprise. “Wait a moment – Maric? The Maric? As in Maric Theirin? You were having a love affair with the King of Ferelden?’

Fiona nodded curtly. ‘Yes. So believe me when I say I know a thing or two about loving a man that I can never be with.’

Perhaps Fiona did know how I felt? Despite her empathy being a little strange, I appreciated the gesture. ‘I’m sorry, that must have been hard for you Fiona.’

‘It wasn’t hard until…I found myself with child.’ replied the grand enchanter quietly. Noticing my surprise at her confession, she nodded in affirmation.

‘You had a child with Maric?’ I whispered ‘Truly? What happened to the child? Did you have the baby?’

Tilting her head curiously, Fiona appeared confused at the question. ‘Alistair is my son.’ she replied ‘Alistair is the child I had with Maric.’

Feeling as if a red templar had just knocked the wind out of me and kicked me off the side of the Frostback Mountains, to say I was stunned by her confession would have been an understatement. ‘But....I don’t understand? Fiona, were you a kitchen maid at the castle all those years ago?’

‘Of course not!’ replied Fiona in disgust ‘That was a lie made up to prevent anyone knowing the truth. My pregnancy was a secret hidden out of desperation, for obvious reasons. An illegitimate child, even one belonging to the king, was considered a child born out of disgrace. And a potential threat to Cailan’s claim to the throne.’. Her face grew dark as she added a little coldly ‘Alistair being half elvish, well, no one would ever acknowledge such a child. Maric and I both knew that. And I did not want Alistair having to grow up with that further burden. I pleaded with Maric to hide Alistair’s elven heritage from him, so he could live a life without that burden. After I gave birth to Alistair I handed him over to Maric, and he promised to care for his son as best he could. That was the best thing I could have done for our child and I do not regret doing so.’

Alistair was half-elf. I couldn’t believe it. It was....so unexpected. Yet I knew how much this would mean to Alistair. It would change so much. He would find out his mother was not dead, but alive.

‘Alistair is here at the keep, you need to tell him.’ I blurted out in a fast sentence. Frantically I pointed to the courtyard. ‘Please I can’t tell you how much he needs to know this. I can get him right now. Let me run and get him!’

The mage looked shocked at the suggestion, as if that was the last thing she wanted to do. ‘Alistair is here?’ she repeated uncertainly.

‘He is, he is!’ I chimed in, a reassuring nod that turned into a frantic series of nods. ‘He snuck in with the guards when I arrived at Skyhold. It’s a long story, I’m certain you’d love hearing about it from him. My goodness he has a lot to talk to you about!’

Fiona remained silent as I desperately clasped her hands.

‘Please Fiona, I am begging you. Please let Alistair hear this. You are his mother and you are alive. He deserves to know. You have no idea how important this would be for him.’. Grinning, I shook my head in disbelief. ‘He is going to be so thrilled.’

Appearing agitated by my enthusiasm, Fiona pulled her hands away. ‘That is completely out of the question. I am not going to tell him about this, and neither are you.’

‘If you told me then you know on some level Alistair would find out.’ I protested ‘Let him hear this from you, not me.’

‘I told you in secrecy.’ Fiona replied sternly ‘There’s no point telling Alistair, not now. Not after all this time. I only told you to appeal to your senses and start acting like the wife my son deserves. You need to be with Alistair and be the Queen he deserves to have by his side.’

‘But he’s your son!’ I appealed, unable to fathom how she could be so determined not to tell him.

‘It is not your place to inform him of what occurred. I would warn you to stop and think of the consequences.’ cautioned Fiona, suddenly turning away from me. She held her hand to stop me from saying another word. ‘If anyone knows this secret it would cause more trouble than good. I regret saying anything now, and I pray I have not sealed his fate for doing so. I only wanted to ensure his future days would be happier. His…father had such hopes for him.’. Her eyes were filled with sadness as she turned away and left.

A cold wind scattered across the battlements, the light of the sunset fading into a muddy reddish glow in the sky. What was left of a dying royal bloodline was becoming more and more complex. I was beginning to see that now.

‘I can’t believe it.’ I murmured to myself. Alistair’s mother was Grand Enchanter Fiona. An Orlesian elvish Grey Warden. I could imagine Alistair's reaction upon learning his own mother was a warden! All I wanted to do was find him and tell him the joyous news, and yet some part of me understood why I couldn’t. I didn’t need to be well educated in Ferelden politics to understand that the king of Ferelden being half Orlesian and a half elf was something that would never be accepted. And if anyone knew the truth the outcome could be dire, and Alistair’s crown most likely would fall from his head before too long.


	98. Affection Conceded

It was already dark when I retreated from the mages tower, walking across the battlements that were scattered with flickering torches and flapping Inquisition banners. The watchmen were already posted for the night, peering across the isolated ranges from their positions on the wall. Recalling many a night making the lonely walk along the walls of the keep, I wondered why that desperate feeling of hopelessness still remained even now after victory? A coldness deep within. A lurking sense of foreboding doom. Once upon a time it was the despair of having the role of Inquisitor and questioning the actions of the Inquisition. Of feeling trapped. Of craving a man who appeared indifferent towards me. Trivial matters in hindsight. Now I was facing a new set of circumstances that seemed impossible to navigate.

Wandering down into the courtyard, and further into the shadowy depths of the garden, I finally located my guest quarters. Number 14. Two doors down from where Michel de Chevin used to live. There was a time when the chevalier and I had lived openly as a couple there, without fear of being caught out for treason. Anora was still alive and ruling Ferelden, Alistair had still been a Grey Warden and living with Sierra in Adamant Fortress, and Cullen and Leliana did not share a child. It was a time when I wasn’t being pulled aside by the king of Ferelden’s mother and being told off for not being a good wife.

The nerve of the woman. What did she know of me?

‘It appears she knows me all too well.’ I muttered, kicking a pile of leaves across the pathway.

On some level, as a wife, I had been good for Alistair. I was a friend that had tried to help him through whatever troubles concerned him, and even shared a joke or two along the way. But I knew there were other aspects of a marriage neither of us delivered all too well on. And our pasts didn’t help the matter. The fact that both Alistair and I had been happy in our previous relationships made for a hopeless start. He with Sierra and I with Cullen, how could we simply forget that? Perhaps Cullen and Sierra had their many flaws, but we were content. And now things had changed, and Alistair and I struggled to move on. Our bed remained cold and our lack of affection was evident. Plain and simple we were friends, not lovers.

Drawing my coat tight, I remained outside the door and bided my time. Some foolish sentimentality stirred within me as I looked up at the stars and wondered whether Michel was also watching the night sky. In my dreams the chevalier often whisked me away from Denerim Palace and spared me the loveless life at court, and we lived as runaway lovers happy for a while until destiny inevitably turned to tragedy. Sometimes if felt like a premonition, other times just a nightmare.

Shaking my head, I scolded my stupid thoughts. The door creaked loudly as I entered the guest chambers and my gloomy mind was soon distracted as I stepped into a room bright with candles and a well stoked fire.

Alistair was sitting at the small desk by the bed, writing a letter as I entered. In large strokes of a white feathered quill, he wrote graciously in ornate cursive. An apparent sign of noble birth, only those born into privilege were taught to write in such an elegant style. Even my parents had not afforded specialist tutorage to teach me formal calligraphy, having been satisfied that the common styled script was efficient. Perhaps as a child Alistair had been none the wiser as to who his father had been, but it was apparent that those around him were well aware that he was to be educated as the son of a king. I wondered whether Maric had told anyone as to whom Alistair’s real mother was? Or did everyone truly believe Alistair was the result of a tryst with a kitchen maid? Surely Eamon had to have known Alistair was part elf and part Orlesian? And if that was so, why had he never mentioned it to Alistair? Or even mentioned Fiona was alive?

Poor Alistair. He was the victim of so many terrible secrets. And as much as I could reproach Fiona, I was also guilty…

I felt so ashamed as Alistair turned to me, a wide grin on his face. He looked extremely joyous.

‘Oh you’re back! I was just writing to The Wonders of Thedas in Denerim.’ he informed merrily ‘Have you ever been there? They have this remarkable collection of arcane books and magical supplies. Floor to ceiling high with the most obscure and exotic titbits you’ll ever hope to find. Sierra was obsessed with the place. Anyway I thought Kieran would appreciate a large box of books and trinkets from there. And really, who doesn’t like presents? Maker knows I have eleven years’ worth of missed presents to make up for.’

Throwing him a forced smile, I tiredly threw my coat onto the hat rack by the door. ‘So? It went well I’m guessing?’

‘He is everything I could have ever hoped for.’ replied Alistair excitedly. ‘Ophelia you have no idea how happy I am.’. Dropping the quill, he rubbed his jaw. ‘I’m actually sore from smiling. I’ve been beaming all afternoon.’

‘By the look on your face I can believe it.’ I chuckled.

Alistair laughed, shaking his head. ‘Maker help me it is the strangest thing to meet someone that you have created. My own flesh and blood. My son. I’ve never been so proud in all my life. And you wouldn’t believe how bright the lad is. Oh he is so smart! Smarter than I was at that age, that’s for sure. Makes me look like a right old block head! Kieran reads such advanced texts, and-‘, Alistair clicked his fingers at me. ‘-he’s a mage. Can you believe it? My son turned out to be a mage.’. The man chuckled to himself as if he was still in disbelief. ‘Being a templar seems even more ironic now. The Maker certainly has a sense of humour.’

‘Well considering who his mother is I don’t think you could be too surprised?’ I pointed out.

‘I didn’t know what to expect.’ he shrugged ‘I half expected Kieran to be a small version of the annoying Morrigan that I travelled with all those years ago. How stupid I was to think that. The moment I saw him it was like…’. Alistair grew quiet, a wide smile growing on his face. ‘…it was like finding a piece of me that I had lost along the way. A part of me that I never knew I had lost until I found it once more. Meeting my son has made me whole again.’

I wanted to be as thrilled as Alistair was in the moment but I couldn’t erase what I had learnt earlier that evening. Here Alistair was confiding to me, in earnest, as to how he felt complete after meeting his son. So why was Fiona intent on remaining a stranger to hers? Yes it was her secret to keep, but at the same time I felt it was a selfish one. What sort of mother refuses to meet with her own flesh and blood even once? Alistair was such a good man. A great man. I knew if I had a child that turned out to be like him I would have been proud.

He deserved to know the truth.

Alistair deserved to know about his connection to the elvish bloodline, something that Michel held so dearly to his own identity. Maker knows Alistair deserved so much more than that, and yet here he was still with no answers and no real notion of the truth.

‘You seem distracted.’ observed Alistair curiously. Frowning, he looked upon me apologetically. ‘Here I am going on about Kieran and forgetting how terrible it must have been for you to be back here. I’m so sorry. Did something happen?’

‘No.’ I replied a little hastily, which only gave reason to suspect that something had happened.

Alistair appeared unconvinced, continuing to look upon me with concern.

‘It’s nothing Alistair, I just bumped into Cullen and Leliana before. And their child.’

‘Oh.’ he replied gently ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m great.’ I dismissed, putting on my best happy face. ‘Anyway let’s focus on the good that has happened here. You have finally met your son. And I for one couldn’t be more delighted for you and Kieran. I’m so glad it turned out well for you both.’

Alistair chuckled. ‘Me too! I had myself convinced that Morrigan would freak out and summon some scary giant birds with sharp talons to swoop down on me. But she’s changed. I’d even go so far to say she was…kind? It’s as if raising Kieran has taught her a compassion that was sorely lacking before that. We spent all afternoon talking, I mean genuinely talking, and it was the first time I could ever say that I enjoyed Morrigan’s company. We were a family. It was nice.’

Unable to appreciate the sentiment, having always found Morrigan to be the smirking and snide sort that enjoyed making people uncomfortable, I nodded quietly. All that mattered was that Alistair was happy. And he was.

‘So what did Leliana and Cullen have to say?’ asked Alistair dubiously ‘Made you feel like a right royal pile of cow dung, am I right?’

Sighing at the question, I plonked myself onto the bed and flopped back onto the cushions. ‘Something like that. There was an awful lot of gloating and rubbing salt in my wounds by Leliana. She took a great deal of delight in showing off the baby. Oh and apparently she burned my belongings when I left for Denerim.’

Alistair’s mouth dropped open, his brows raised in disbelief.

‘Yes you heard me.’ I confirmed, rolling my eyes. ‘She got Harritt to throw my entire chest into the furnace….as you do.’

‘Does she hate you that much?’ scoffed Alistair, unable to comprehend the actions of the Spymaster ‘I can’t believe she actually burned your possessions??!!’

Groaning, I closed my eyes. ‘Are you seeing the type of crazy I am dealing with here?’

The king threw me a sad look, as if I had lost someone dear to me. ‘I’m sorry you never got your coins back.’

Rolling onto my side, I closed my eyes. ‘They were just coins, Alistair. Easily replaced with more junk in the coming years.’. Perhaps the years had hardened me and what little sentiment I had for possessions was now fading away. In the end what did any of it matter? I was beginning not to care about much anymore. 

Alistair arose from his seat at the desk and came to sit beside me. Placing a hand on the cover, looked down at me with sincerity. ‘You know I would give you anything that you wanted.’ he observed quietly ‘All you need is ask and I will do whatever I can to make your life better.’. His eyes lowered, appearing uncomfortable. ‘I know this is not how you wanted your life to end up. I can see that on your face every time we are together. You have no idea how sorry I am.’

Looking towards him in surprise, I sat up to face him. ‘Honestly Alistair, I understand why you did what you did.’

Alistair pointed at me in accusation. ‘Ah-hah! I see what you’re doing.’

‘What?’ I smirked.

‘You know, being completely nice and understanding to please everyone else.’ he replied ‘I’m guilty of being a people pleaser myself so I can see when someone else is doing it from a mile away.’

His apt observation caused me to grin. ‘What do you want me to do? Be angry? I can yell and rant and rave if you wish?’

‘If you feel like doing that…then yes, I suppose I do.’ replied Alistair seriously ‘How else will I know how you truly feel?’

Casting him a playful angry face, the king rolled his eyes.

‘Sorry to disappoint you but I meant what I said.’ I chuckled ‘I understand the logic behind marrying the King of Ferelden to the Inquisitor. Let’s face it, my stupid title of Inquisitor always promoted grandeur and delusion among the masses.’

‘With responsibility comes stupid titles and expectations.’ agreed Alistair ‘I suppose neither of us stood much of a chance? You’ve seen how the people react knowing I'm Maric’s son. I'm the bloodline descendant of King Calenhad, and at every turn I am made to remember it.’

‘Calenhad?’ I pondered, not knowing my history all too well.

‘He was the first king of Ferelden.’ replied Alistair ‘United the Alamarri tribes into a single nation. Went by the name of Calenhad the Great.’

‘Guess you’ve got some big shoes to fill.’ I chuckled.

‘Well I thought marrying the The Herald of Andraste would get me off the hook there.’ teased Alistair. Frowning, he shrugged. ‘There is a lot of expectations of greatness with my bloodline, I’ve been made well aware of that for a long time now. My grandmother, Moira Theirin, was called the Rebel Queen. She was a fearsome warrior and responsible for inspiring the rebellion against the Orlesian occupation in Ferelden. My father Maric finally freed Ferelden from the rule of the Orlesian Empire and restored the Theirin family back onto their Ferelden throne. No small feat there. Perhaps Cailan never got a proper chance to show Ferelden how great he could be as a ruler, but even he was trying to secure an alliance with Empress Celene to secure ties with Ferelden and Orlais.’. Alistair smiled, waving his hands in the air. ‘And now here I am, taking my turn at centre stage.’

Smiling at the man, I could see what obviously he couldn’t. ‘You’re a godsend to Ferelden, Alistair. You’ll come to see that soon enough.’

‘As are you.’ mused Alistair.

Scoffing, I rolled back and pretended I was sleeping again. ‘Unlike you I’ve no heroic bloodline running through my veins, and my title of Inquisitor was entirely forged on smoke and mirrors. Divine Justinia saved my life. I walked out alive from that conclave because of her sacrifice. It wasn’t the Maker, or any other mystical reason behind it. Yet from the moment I emerged unscathed my fate was sealed. The people thought I was the Herald of Andraste, and well as Varric says…mud sticks. Simple fools luck ensured I escaped from Haven, but again….the people believed the Maker was watching out for me. He wasn’t. It was the strong architecture of the village that protected me from the avalanche. A few well-placed beams and I walked out alive. Done and dusted.’

Alistair nodded. ‘So you’re luckier than a four leaf clover found on Chantry land on Sunday. Still, luck or not, you fought against Corypheus and his enemies and defeated them.’

‘Not single handedly.’ I dismissed ‘Far from it in fact. The unbeatable Inquisitor always had a lot of skilled warriors and mages surrounding her. Anyway all that aside, what I was saying was I understand why your council considered you and I a favourable match.’

The man groaned. ‘Still it doesn’t mean you have to pretend to smile and say you understand being forced into matrimony. You don’t need to keep me happy by lying to my face.’

My stomach lurched at the comment, knowing those words held more truth that he could possibly know.

Frowning, I was determined to ignore that observation. ‘I know what the people thought about me.’ I continued ‘Your people. They believed in the Inquisition because of me. They thought I was guided by the Maker’s hand. They sacrificed everything to ensure that we stood a chance. So if this union gives them something back, I suppose some good came of it in the end. That is why I don’t complain.’

‘You are very diplomatic.’ observed Alistair ‘Most wouldn’t be so understanding.’

‘Life is a game of chance, I’m just glad I’m still playing.’ I replied, feeling a little disillusioned.

Alistair’s expression grew dark. ‘I bumped into Cullen before. Or should I say we clashed horns? Or was it more of a pissing contest? He marked his territory like a Mabari. I’m not sure what you would call it but it was unpleasant.’

‘Ah,’ I winced ‘he has a way of doing that with people.’

‘Does he ever?’ muttered the king ‘Ophelia I know that you love him but you must know that his arrogance unmasks his true nature. I loathe to repeat what he said.’

My interest was piqued. ‘What did he say?’

The king appeared unsettled to repeat the conversation. ‘Cullen speaks of you as his possession. Can you believe that? That is not love, that is some unnatural dominance that I can’t even begin to comprehend.’

Turning away a little uneasily, I pretending to be indifferent. If only Alistair knew what unnatural and delightful bond Cullen and I used to share.

The king rubbed his neck uneasily. ‘I know you’ve lived a hard life so I can only imagine that comes with certain skewed beliefs about how people should and should not treat you-’

‘So you think I’m damaged goods?’ I mused ‘And I don’t know any better?’

‘No that wasn’t what I meant.’ defended Alistair ‘Look….no matter how we came about it, you are now my wife.’. Running a hand through his choppy hair uneasily, Alistair appeared to be tiptoeing around something. ‘Perhaps it is only natural when two people are in close quarters with each other all the time? Perhaps you don’t feel the same way? But…I care about you. More than I thought I did. And today when Cullen was goading me all I could feel was this fury building up, feeling that I needed to protect you from him. Yes I have a duty to do that as your husband, but that didn’t explain the emotions I was feeling. It doesn’t explain…it doesn’t explain how I am feeling now.’

Alistair grew quiet, and suddenly leant over and kissed me.

Surprised at my own feelings, I didn’t pull away. His hand gently cradled the nape of my neck, pulling me towards his friendly lips. The kiss was tender and Alistair caught me by surprise as he tilted his head and I suddenly felt his tongue against mine. A soft plunge of pink, his lips tasting sweet with the lingering hint of peppermint tea. After a few delicate puckers he pulled away, running his fingers along my arm with a fond smile.

‘Was that completely uncalled for?’ Alistair asked softly, his brown eyes looking deeply into mine. Drawing a hand to my hair, he ran his fingers through it affectionately. ‘Maker, you are so beautiful. But…you can tell me to sod off. I won’t cry. Well I might, but only into my handkerchief when no one is looking.’

My cheeks were flushed with heat as I looked to him with a foolish stare. I wasn’t the best at dealing with my emotions, and it felt like Alistair had just opened that terrible box and let them spill out. Sitting here before him, I was trying to figure out why I had felt excited when he kissed me just then? We were friends. Friends. But did friends secretly enjoy being kissed liked that? Did friends enjoy the way Alistair was running his hand through my hair, or the way he was looking at me right now? Ineloquence was taking over and there was no going back. ‘Alistair you are…I mean what I’m trying to say is…well….ugh bilge rats!’

My answer was painfully foolish and the king grinned back at me in amusement.

‘Brilliant, just brilliant! Can I use that in my next speech to the council?’ teased Alistair ‘It’s exactly how I feel when listening to them.’. Playfully he pinched my cheek before growing a little more serious. ‘I’m sorry for assuming I could just…well I’m sorry. You shouldn’t need to be worrying about me coming at you for a kiss when you have so much on your mind at the moment. I won’t try that again…well, without your permission at the very least.’

Rubbing his chiselled jaw, the king was so polite even when he thought he was being rejected. His brown eyes looked kindly at me and he smiled gently as if to reassure me that he was not offended. Everything about this son of Maric was so…beautiful, and before I knew what I was doing my lips were reaching across to connect to his once more.

Alistair received the gesture hungrily, surprised but nevertheless excited by the reception, and wrapped his arms tight around my waist. My body fell on top of his, so firm, warm and welcoming as it was, and he lay back on the bed as we continued the kiss. A soft moan came from his throat as we connected, his hands running along my spine and up into my hair. Clenching soft fists, Alistair pulled me tight against his chest and began to kiss my neck, his lips falling to my shoulder to where his teeth playfully grazed me. More kisses followed, passionately bestowed with the enthusiasm of a new experience of intimacy.

‘So bilge rats are a good thing?’ mused Alistair ‘Good to know.’

‘Always.’ I grinned, unable to stop the flighty excitement I was feeling. It felt so good being in Alistair’s arms. His touch and taste were incredibly arousing, and his affection was intoxicating. The king’s fingers lightly traced along my clothed thighs, mischievously skimming across my arse before wrapping around my waist. I sensed he wanted to take this further for it was also going through my mind.

Without another word the king rolled me over onto my back, his body now climbing over mine. I gasped at the concealed strength Alistair held, effortlessly moving me to where he wanted without a second thought. Not being accustomed to Alistair behaving in such a way just made me crave him even more. Desperately. I took delight in seeing him transform into that dominant role of a king, a descendant of Calenhad, that claimed what he desired. Alistair began to kiss me again and I knew there was no turning back as I surrendered to the man.

‘What are we doing?’ I whispered, the arousal consuming my mind and sending me into a foggy dreamlike state.

‘Well at the moment I think I am kissing you...’ murmured Alistair, lowering his head to my breasts and kissing them through the material of my shirt. His hands untucked my shirt and ran up under my top, his warm fingers melting into my skin. ‘...and touching you….’. His palms cupped my chest, his forefingers playfully grazing over my nipples as his lips fell to my neck again, his tongue licking playfully across my skin. ‘…and tasting you.’

His mouth fell onto mine once more, hungrily kissing me with carnal intent. I felt his hardness against my leg, pressing through his trousers, and panic suddenly struck. What of Michel? What in the blazes was I doing?! And how could I possibly get out of this situation? Alistair was after all my husband? Part of me desperately wanted this and another part knew I shouldn’t be, and when the uneasiness of uncertainty reared its head I did the only thing I was guilty of doing so many times before. The only response I seemed shamefully capable of doing.

Succumbing to desire.

Running my hands through his brown hair, I tried to approach this topic as casually as I could between ravenous kisses. ‘Alistair is this really what you want? I mean, I didn’t think you were…interested in me like this?’

Alistair appeared amused at my observation, pulling away from my lips with a wide grin. ‘Really, is that what you thought?’ he chuckled ‘Oh I don’t know? I’ll guess I’ll have to think on it for a while.’

He pretended to ponder the situation, rubbing his hand along his chin with a grin before lowering his mouth to continue kissing my flushed lips. Melting into his mouth, I surrendered to his teasing tongue, my hand subconsciously placing itself on the back of his head, pulling him towards me. His fingers trailed to my top once more, now slowing undoing the buttons.

‘I have to be honest with you.’ he finally answered between kisses and pulling off my shirt. ‘Do you remember that day we got caught in the dust storm on the way to Redcliffe Castle?’

‘Riding on horseback through a red plains dust storm, how could I forget?’ I groaned, recalling the trip ‘Although it wasn’t that long ago, I’m not that senile. It was only a month or so back.’

‘I pulled you onto my saddle because your horse had become unsettled.’ recalled Alistair, smiling as he started pulling off his blue shirt. Lifting the shirt over his head, the man revealed his bare broad Ferelden chest, tanned, muscular and peppered with light reddish brown tufts of hair. A body of king. His strong raw arms ran to my thighs, his hands running fondly up and down my legs. ‘My thighs were straddled around your firm arse…’ he reminisced with a cheeky smile ‘and your body was flat against my chest. I held you close to me and this incredible scent from your neck filled my nostrils. Made the ride a little stiff.’

Blushing at the comment, I felt embarrassed. ‘Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.’

Alistair gently eased my pants off, his eyes taking in my bare legs and quinny with great interest as he threw the garment aside. ‘Well I’m feeling the same sensation at the moment, can you guess?’ he added mischievously, running his hands along my bare stomach. Lowering his lips, Alistair kissed my belly button softly and continued a trail up my chest to finally meet my hungry mouth. ‘I’ve never been intimate with anyone except Sierra.’ he confessed ‘I didn’t think I ever would. And even after she died the thought of being with someone else seemed foreign and something I did not wish to entertain.’. Alistair looked a little ashamed as he stared into my eyes. ‘That has changed now. After you and I were married the idea grew on me and I began to…yearn for that connection once more. And I know you desire Cullen and I’m not him, but-‘

Placing a finger on his lips, I shook my head. ‘-you don’t need to be.’ I replied softly ‘I’m not Sierra, does that bother you?’

Alistair shook his head with a small smile. ‘Of course not.’ he replied gently ‘I am glad that you are you. You need to know that I am so happy to be married to you, Ophelia.’. His brown eyes drew me in seriously. ‘Will you let me love you?’ he asked.

‘I…want to.’ I replied uncertainly ‘It’s just a little surprising because I never thought you and I would be-’

‘-all touchy feely? Yessss it is a little surprising considering all things. Let me think though, is this going to be a problem for me?’. The man lowered his head and kissed me slowly on the lips, teasing my bottom lip before finally drawing back with a grin. ‘Nope I’m good!’ he remarked.

Laughing at him, I shook my head.

‘Although we only seemed to meet under the most strained of circumstances over the last few years, didn’t we?’ observed Alistair ‘Makes kissing you now even more surreal.’. He drew me into another kiss. ‘The first time we ever met I was hiding out in a smuggler’s cave in Crestwood. I drew a sword at you, when you and Hawke entered, ready to defend myself to the death before I realised who you were. Do you remember? I can’t imagine how that must have looked.’

Narrowing my eyes, I shook my head playfully. ‘No, I’m not going to tell you what I actually thought on that day. You’ll get a big head.’

Alistair placed his hands over his ears. ‘Nope, already big.’ he joked ‘Go on, you have to tell me now.’

Feeling sheepish, I sniffed in a casual manner. ‘You forget how much of a hero you’ve become in the realm. I was a mage from Ostwick, who never left the tower and never did anything spectacular except mess up the potions and spells. I was just a nobody in the greater scheme of things. And then there you were, Alistair Theirin.’

Alistair grinned. ‘You thought that I was a hero?’

‘Are you serious? You saved Thedas from the Blight!’ I chortled, wrapping my fingers between his. ‘It didn’t help that you were cute either.’

‘Cute!’ beamed Alistair ‘You think I’m cute, do you? I thought the same thing about you.’

‘It was more than that.’ I added ‘You were so…elegantly heroic. Humble, yet you had this greatness about you. A greatness that needed no bravado or bards songs to sing your praise.’

‘Now you’re just saying that to get into my pants.’ teased Alistair ‘It’s working. Hang on, is that what elegant heroes are supposed to say?’

‘Perhaps the very naughty ones.’ I jested.

‘Perhaps I made a good impression,’ shrugged Alistair ‘but it was your actions when we were in the fade that struck a chord with me. Faced with the horror of being trapped in that nightmarish place, perhaps forever, you took it in your stride and made a few lame jokes and then went on your way doing what needed to be done.’

‘You think my jokes are lame?’. I pinched the skin at his waist, and Alistair jumped in amusement. ‘Thanks a lot.’

‘Well I am the king of lame jokes.’ grinned Alistair. Kissing me again, I could feel him growing more serious as he tasted me deeply now, crushing his mouth hard against mine. ‘You saved my life that day, you know?’ he whispered ‘I never properly thanked you for that.’

Shaking my head, I cradled his head in my hands, looking into his large brown eyes. ‘Hawke sacrificed his life that day, not me.’

‘We both stood there before you, wanting to stay and sacrifice our lives, and you made the call as to who would make the final stand.’ replied Alistair seriously ‘I’m alive because of you, and because of Hawke. And I know how that affected you and Varric. When we returned from the fade you were both devastated. Yet instead of showing anger you gave me another chance, and the wardens. You allowed us to live in Adamant and make up for the wrong that had occurred. You didn’t have to, but you did. I will always be grateful for that.’

Alistair drew me into another passionate kiss, moaning as my hands made the journey into unexplored territory, down the front of his trousers to where his hot concealed pikestaff stood ready.

‘Goodness…’ I murmured, easing his black cotton trousers down his defined hips. My fingers traced along the bones of his pelvis, following down the trail to where a patch of curly reddish brown hair and a thick cock resided. Alistair drew in his breath as he felt my hand wrap around his dick, teasing it with slow strokes, up and down his length, pulling back his foreskin to where his shiny purple head bulged out.

‘Goodness good or goodness bad?’ mused Alistair ‘Hang on, maybe I don’t want to know.’

‘Goodness very very good.’ I replied wickedly, bending down to lightly kiss the tip of his surging cock. Smooth and warm, my lips soon tasted the slightest hint of moisture from a little pre-cum that spilled forth. My eyes notice his abs on his stomach tense, an impressive sight from where I was kneeling on the bed.

Alistair drew a quick breath as his dick twinged, sensitive to my lips. ‘Ahhh from someone who hasn’t had coitus in over a year I think you need to stop that.’ he warned, encouraging me to lay back on the bed ‘I fear I am a little eager at the moment. You know, volcano could erupt if you even look at it, let alone try and lick it.’

Laughing, I lay back and opened my naked legs to welcome his hard dick. ‘Ready when you are?’ I replied, enjoying watching Alistair’s eyes fall between my legs. His breathing grew heavier as he slowly stroked his manhood before me.

‘That’s not helping either, you know?’ observed the king, raising a brow.

‘What should I do then? Do you want me to beg?’ I replied mischievously ‘Tell you how badly I want your kingly cock buried deep in me, fucking me hard in this honeypot right here.’. My middle finger traced between my lips, spreading the glistening wetness across before I plunged it deep into me.

‘Ophelia I would never have guessed you to be such a tease.’ smiled Alistair, stroking his hardness ‘Not that I’m complaining. In fact, carry on.’

‘Less talk more action.’ I quipped.

Falling on top of me and with a firm hand, Alistair glided his cock to my cunt, easing his way past my labia and into me without much warning. One firm thrust in he pushed, forcing me to take his cock rather than ease it in. With a stifled cry, I accepted the hard dick with pleasure. I was already aroused and ready, and secretly enjoyed a more forceful entrance.

‘Maker.’ Alistair moaned, sinking his cock deep and holding it. His meaty twinge caused me to tighten with pleasure, further causing the man to moan even louder at the sensation. Alistair began to move his hips, thrusting in and out, in and out, enjoying the plunge of his tortured cock that was feeling every stroke with intensity. The drought had come to an end but that volcano was already teetering on erupting.

Already I felt myself drowning in that blissful state of euphoria. ‘Your cock feels incredible.’ I murmured, my hands grabbing his arse to pull him deeper.

Painfully trying to stave off the inevitable, he slowed his thrusts but to no avail he jolted and in turn I tightened. ‘Tell me what you like.’ he asked in a husky voice drenched with lust. Hearing Alistair speak to me in that voice was enough to get me off, but I knew there was another way.

‘Tell me what you like?’ I asked with a smirk.

Alistair thrust his hips a little stronger into me before groaning in ecstatic agony. ‘At this point I just need to come hard and fast.’ he replied a little desperately.

‘Sounds perfect.’ I grinned.

‘Brace yourself.’ he teased, planting his arms firmly beside my shoulders as his hips started to thrust hard. The bed began to shake violently as Alistair started to pound away, thrusting his cock quite roughly and causing the furniture to shudder every time he sheathed himself to the hilt. My hands gripped the material of the bed above me as I desperately held on, a delighted pant under my breath as I relished the chaotic frenzy of his rutting and the way his hair tickled my face as he fell over me.

I’m coming.’ he warned, looking to me as if he wasn’t sure whether he should pull out or not. Building up to my own orgasm, I didn’t want him to do anything except continue what he was doing.

‘It’s fine, keep on going.’ I encouraged, pulling his hips towards me.

The last final few thrusts he pushed a little deeper, whether intentional of not that caused me to clench tight on his member as I came in a series of desperate cries, pulling him deeper and causing him to release. Alistair moaned loudly like a wounded beast, breathlessly laughing as he spurted his seed deeply.

My hands held tight on his back as he held himself inside of me, panting into my hair as his dick finally drained itself. Alistair nuzzled his head to mine, exhaling deeply. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered ‘I know this is going to sound incredibly clichéd but I feel so much closer to you after that.’

Perhaps there was an opportunity to laugh at that comment, but I didn’t. Sharing intimacy like that formed a bond, or so I had experienced in the past, and for my part I feared it. I had seen the way Cullen and Michel had stolen a piece of my heart. Was Alistair on the same path? Making love to Alistair had been so enjoyable and left me feeling so secure. Safe. It was unlike the turbulence that I often experienced with Cullen, and at times with Michel. And that feeling made me all the more uneasy. And incredible as it had been, now I faced the aftermath of guilt. How was I going to tell Michel about this, and how was he ever going to understand?

‘I should get cleaned up.’ I replied awkwardly, moving off the bed to dash behind the curtained area where a basin and chamber pot resided. Grabbing a wash cloth I hastily wiped the large deposit of sticky semen that was now oozing out. The aftermath of romance was never so romantic. Silently I cursed myself having left all my herbal poultices back at the castle, the ones that prevented me from falling pregnant. With Michel away I had thought there was no need to travel with such precautions. I would have to wait until I returned to Denerim before I could access them.

‘Is everything alright over there?’ called out Alistair ‘I wasn’t too rough, was I?’

‘No just cleaning up.’ I called back, feeling uncomfortable as could be.

‘Do you want me to call for a bath to be brought in?’ he asked, adding playfully. ‘I happen to be a very good sponge bather.’

Retreating from my hiding place, I grinned at the man. ‘Now there’s a promising prospect.’. Hastily I drew to my wardrobe and flung on another top and pants. ‘But I promised Varric I’d have a few drinks with him tonight. We should go, he’ll be expecting us at his dingy little establishment.’

Alistair rested his head behind his arms, lying comfortably naked on the bed. I couldn’t quite explain why but there was something incredibly erotic about a raw soldier in the buff with a recently deflated pikestaff, sweat beading off his skin and a flush in his cheeks. Exerted and exhausted, yet exquisite nevertheless.

‘And ruin a perfectly wonderful night?’ reproached Alistair in jest ‘Never!’

‘It’ll be fun.’ I promised.

The man grinned ‘No I think anything from here on will pale in comparison to what just happened on this bed. And to be perfectly honest I can’t think of worse place to end up tonight than a tavern that Cullen owns.’

‘Don’t let Varric hear you say that!’ I grinned ‘Cullen owns a share in The Cock and Bull, but Varric claims full ownership, rights and running of the joint. You have to come for one drink at least? You know the wine and ale are going to be good because it was most likely stolen from some finer tavern in Thedas.’

‘Yes but I’ll throttle the Commander if I see him again.’ frowned Alistair, rubbing his damp hair ‘I nearly had him thrown into the dungeons at supper. No, there is nothing there that could tempt me. I’m sorry.’

Feeling a little downcast, I pulled on my boots silently. Alistair grinned, watching me from the bed. ‘Is it that important that I go?’ he asked ‘We were having so much fun here. Stay and we’ll drink red wine under the covers where it’s nice and warm and without any drunken soldiers slurring their way through Roome For a Lusty Lively Lad, Dery Dery Downe.’

‘I quite like that song.’ I grinned.

‘Come to think of it, so do I.’ agreed Alistair.

Throwing him a sad smile, I shrugged. ‘Please? After today I don’t think I want to walk into a tavern where Cullen and Leliana could be lingering in the shadows, smirking at me. Come for one drink. For me?’

Sighing, Alistair threw me a fond smile. ‘For you, of course.’ he replied warmly, grabbing his blue shirt from the edge of the bed. ‘Alrighty then! Let’s go make royal idiots of ourselves, shall we?’


	99. The Night Unfurls

Walking along the quiet corridors of the keep, both Alistair and I had grown uncomfortably silent in the aftermath of what had just happened. What had just happened? A moment of carnal lust had now left me with the niggling doubt one experiences after doing something they know they shouldn’t have done. Like stealing cake from the larder at midnight. Indulging in carnal acts weren’t the issue here, the act itself wasn’t the source of shame, least of all with someone I was married to. And Alistair was an extremely attractive man with a physique that was exquisitely mesmeric. I found the enticement easy to sample, and now I was ashamed for doing so. I was ashamed of the ramifications of my actions. Michel de Chevin would never understand and in all fairness, why should he have to? I felt myself spiralling out of control, entertaining the pleasure of the flesh to ease the pain of my psyche. Did it matter if I slept with one, two, seven or even seventy men if I couldn’t be with the one I actually wanted to be with? What was the point of being true to love if I couldn’t be with the one I truly loved? If there was nothing that I could do to achieve that then why shouldn’t I do as I pleased?

Frowning to myself, I knew I was being selfish. Even I couldn’t fool my heart with that callow logic. Perhaps I’d been able to distract myself with Michel and Alistair, but at the end of the day my mind kept on wandering back to the one that got away. The one that I wanted and could now never have. The one that remained here, faithful to his son and his responsibilities to the Templar Order. 

The scuffing of leather boots against the stone ground brought my attention back to the present moment, and casting my eyes to Alistair I could see he was also lost deep in thought and his face appeared a little crestfallen. Behind us marched our escorts, five heavily armoured kings guards who seemed very stern faced and alert at all times. They never spoke a word, just marched heavily, with long swords that rustled in their sheaths. Their presence didn’t help the unsettled atmosphere, and if anything magnified it.

Alistair glanced over, as if trying to read my thoughts. He fumbled with his hands, perhaps contemplating whether he should hold my hand or not as we made our way to The Cock and Bull. Quickly placing my hands in the pockets of my coat, I relieved him of any further grievances on the matter.

Clearing his throat with a rough ahem, the king ran an uncertain hand across his hair. ‘It’s warm tonight.’ he observed, trying to break the uneasy silence. ‘Is it usually this warm up here in spring?’

‘Umm, I suppose not.’ I replied, hastening my pace a little.

Of course Alistair didn’t know what the weather was like up here during a springtime night. All Alistair ever did was gallop into Skyhold, demand I forgo my fiancé and any life I wished to live, and then ride back down into Redcliffe. Digging my hands deeper in my pockets, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger. Why was I feeling this resentment right now?

‘It’s amazing how many stars you can see up here.’ added Alistair, gazing up above. ‘There must be thousands, if not more. I bet you see a lot of shooting ones, they’re my favourite you know? You don’t see this many stars in Denerim. In fact I don’t recall seeing this many since I was out in the desert in the Western Approach.’

‘There’s a lot of stars up there.’ I replied candidly, as if informing a group of tourists that had come to see the keep. ‘Solas once told me their brilliance diminishes to the eye when drowned by the man-made lights of the cities. That is why we can see them so well up here.’

Although idle chatter about the sky was a distraction, it wasn’t enough to draw my thoughts away from what just happen. Alistair and I had been as physically intimate as two people could, and yet now we were talking to each other like merchants passing by the crossroads at midmorning. This wasn’t love, this was something entirely foreign and I’d never experienced such a disconnected sensation. Even in my early days with Cullen, when he would often grow cold towards me, that feeling of unbridled desire never left. If anything it was heightened. I craved him and desperately yearned for him, my heart and mind battling each other to make sense of such an infatuation. We loved and fought and fucked and grew together as people. Such a dysfunctional relationship, as unhealthy as it was, seemed a lot healthier than what I was experiencing now. This was a passionless relationship with amicable sex. The Iron Bull’s voice came into my head, chuckling in his deep booming voice; boss you gotta face it, you and the king are fuck buddies.

Alistair’s hand fell into my pocket and he squeezed it warmly. ‘I’m glad you came with me to Skyhold.’ he observed, moving closer to me ‘This turned out to be such a wonderful day.’

‘It was the least I could do, considering everything.’ I replied, trying to avoid his eyes.

‘Are you a bit happier now?’ Alistair asked ‘I know you were pretty down before, but don’t let Leliana and Cullen get to you. They are no longer in your life and shouldn’t affect you anymore. We are together now.’

A chill came over me as I heard the breathing of one of the guards close behind me. I was surrounded by those loyal to the king. It didn’t matter if I were happy or scared or desperately depressed. Everyone had one role and one role alone; be it guard, servant, cook or soldier. To serve their king and make him happy.

‘Of course, you’re right.’ I replied, throwing him an enigmatic smile. Pretending to distracted by something up ahead, I pointed beyond. ‘There’s the stairs leading down to the tavern. Come on, we’re almost there.’

To my relief we arrived at The Cock and Bull before any more mindless chatter could be exchanged. Looking down into the crowded den of the keep, the room was packed with soldiers, mages, workmen, wenches, merchants, travellers and a few stragglers in-between. The candelabras from the roof swung with glowing oil lanterns, encased in beautiful coloured glass of green, orange, red and blue, and a sweet amber incense lingered in the air, amongst the traditional heady aroma of ale, wine and smoking pipes. Ornate red carpets covered the cold floors, and a rich mahogany polished bar stood proudly along one side of the room, lined with every bottle of liquor imaginable. The once barren stone storage room had now been transformed into a luxurious alehouse with Antivan decors that enticed the senses.

With cups of festive cheer in fists, the patrons raised their drinks up high as the room joined in to sing a song it appeared they all knew very well.

_Roome for a lusty lively lad,_   
_dery dery downe,_   
_a shrew has gone an’ broke his heart,_   
_dery dery downe._   
  
_His mule is old and weary,_   
_his family poor and dreary,_   
_his wife is big an’ burly,_   
_and his manhood short and surly._   
  
_Oh dery dery downe._   
  
_No cheer nor good has he to say,_   
_nor fortunes hand to come his way,_   
_he drinks more than his purse will weigh,_   
_and folds poor luck ‘til the break of day,_   
  
_Oh dery dery downe._   
  
_Roome for a lusty lively lad,_   
_dery dery down, _   
_He needs a drink ‘til sommers day,_   
_dery dery downe!_

Alistair chuckled, throwing me a raised brow as we descended the stairs.

‘I still stand by what I said, it’s a good song.’ I observed, causing the king to laugh.

A few stable hands and a farrier squabbling over some coin at the entrance noticed our arrival and started clapping their hands in cheer. This in turn diverted the attention of a group of mages playing cards to turn in surprise, their mouths slightly agape upon seeing the King of Ferelden before them. Soon the entire room was made aware of our appearance, growing quiet for several moments before breaking out into a ruckus of applause and whistles.

‘Praise be to the king an’ queen!’ they shouted cheerfully, keeling over in wonky bows and stumbling curtsies as we passed them.

A red faced Varric was behind the bar, busily pouring mug after mug of ale from a deep brown barrel on the counter. One hand grabbed coin while the other poured faster than I’d ever witnessed any bar tender work his trade. He lifted a mug upon seeing us, grinning widely and nudging his head to beckon us forth.

‘Oi Varric, another round.’ slurred a drunk soldier, lifting his half full mug high above his head. The ale sloshed over and spilled onto several of the patrons, who cursed at the inebriated man.

‘Do I look like a bar wench?’ snorted Varric, waving his hand. ‘Bugger off back to your table and I’ll send a jug your way soon. Now beat it.’

As Varric busied himself with more orders from the thirsty patrons, my eyes searched the room for Cullen. Never could I explain how I could do it but I could feel his presence. I just knew he was here. And lo and behold as I continued to search the crowd there he was, sitting at a table in the back corner surrounded by several men in templar armour. Cullen must have sensed me also, for his amber eyes looked directly up and into mine, a polite nod thrown my way from across the room. Unable to look away, Alistair soon noticed where my attention was turned.

‘Ophelia will you promise me something?’ Alistair asked quietly, his voice painfully courteous. ‘There is a need to be honest with you, so I will just say it. I never want you talking to Cullen. In fact I don’t want Cullen anywhere near you ever again.’

I turned to the king in surprise, not knowing how to respond correctly. ‘Alistair…I’

‘Ophelia we are married now, and after everything he has done, I wish him out of our lives.’ continued Alistair seriously ‘And that only works if you also agree not to converse with him.’

‘Yes but it’s hardly going to happen if I’m here at Skyhold?’ I pointed out a little bluntly ‘We’re going to bump into each other and there is not avoiding it. Like now in a tavern. I’m not going to leave just because Cullen is here.’

Cursing myself for the rather foolhardy observation, I knew it was too late. Alistair looked extremely irritated at my refusal to agree.

‘You are working in the Mage Order, not with the Templars.’ pointed out Alistair ‘Now I’ve agreed that you can come up here and work with the mages, but not to consort with that murderer. This is very important to me Ophelia, I would ask that you respect the wishes of your husband on this matter.’

Somewhat taken aback at his sudden assertiveness, I nodded but refused to say anything more. Of course Alistair hated Cullen and wanted him far away from me. But there was something more to it. It felt almost like Alistair was reacting with…jealousy? His usual jovial and superfluous politeness had somewhat diminished after we had slept with each other, and now there was something a little more forthright in his demeanour.

‘Finally you come to have a drink with your Uncle Varric!’ called out the rogue, interrupting Alistair and I as he barged in-between us. He handed a foamy mug to each of us, and clashed his own against ours, spilling the contents onto the sticky wooden floor below. ‘To king and country!’ he toasted, hesitating before taking a sip ‘…oh and to Queen Sparrow, of course.’

‘Thanks, I think?’ I replied, taking a sip.

I was thankful Varric had interrupted us when he had. My eyes darted to Alistair, who appeared distracted by some soldiers appearing at his side eager to chat.

Looking about the tavern, I threw the dwarf a grin. ‘I’m impressed, Varric. I’d wager you’d give the finest whorehouse in Antiva a run for their money with this set up.’

The rogue chuckled. ‘Who’s to say I didn’t clear one out to furnish this magnificent place?’. Rolling his eyes, he pointed to a group of drunk patrons slumped over several large Antivan cushions by the fire. ‘Look at them, spilling wine and ash all over my furniture. Spent a fortune securing those, and now grubby Molly Baker and her crew are covering them in filth. Perhaps Corff had the right idea in only providing your basic wooden tables and chairs at the tavern. Bah, I guess this handsome dwarf had to learn the hard way.’

A large group of templars descended into the tavern, at least twenty or so, and another group already drinking rowdily roared at their arrival. Cullen arose with the men and greeted the newcomers, exchanging warm handshakes and enthusiastic banter between them.

‘Just my luck I offer free rounds on the day the templars start arriving at Skyhold.’ muttered Varric ‘Still, in the long run it’s more coin in my saddlebag, I’ll drink to that.’

‘The Templars are here?’ I remarked in surprise ‘Already?’

‘And so it begins.’ grimaced Varric ‘Mages and Templars together once more. Now why does that remind me of a time I’d rather forget?’. The rogue sighed, draining his mug. ‘Sparrow you gotta promise me that you and Curly will make a pact not to end up like Orsino and Meredith. I’m not standing by to see my tavern being blown up by one of you guys.’

‘I’m sure Jowan and Cullen will make this work.’ observed Alistair, returning by my side.

Varric shrugged. ‘Hats go off to your optimism but we all know it’s going to take a lot more than Riddles and Curly being buddies to make this work.’

Spotting an empty table, the rogue jumped at the seats before they were taken. I sat beside the dwarf whilst Alistair was pulled aside once again by several patrons all eager to have a chinwag with the king.

My eyes fell miserably to the ale and I swirled the liquid in my cup, forgetting there was a curious rogue beside me taking in my dreary disposition. Being back in Skyhold had turned out to be harder than I had ever imagined. Here was Varric and Cullen and everyone else ready to start their new and exciting lives, and I was still trapped to a cause I never wanted to be apart of. It was a sombre thought to grapple with.

‘How’s palace life treatin’ you Sparrow?’ Varric asked tentatively, as if he realised something was amiss.

‘Oh, it’s great, Varric.’ I replied rather unconvincingly, continuing to stare blankly into my cup of ale.

‘Must be getting a little easier now being married to Alistair, yeah? He’s a good guy.’ added Varric with an encouraging nod.

‘Yeah he’s great.’ I replied miserably, only half listening to the question.

‘And life in general?’ frowned Varric ‘Starting to go a bit better now?’

‘Really great.’ I replied dejectedly.

‘That great, huh?’ he frowned. The rogue pursed his lips, and deep creases grew heavy on his forehead. ‘Sparrow, did I ever tell you about the story of Lady Salvia?’ he asked, pouring more ale into my cup.

‘No.’ I replied unenthusiastically. Taking a sip of mead, my eyes drifted over to Cullen and then back to the dwarf. ‘I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.’ I added half-heartedly.

‘Well heck you’re in for a treat, listen up!’. Varric rolled up his sleeves and got ready to recount the tale. ‘Once upon a time there was a man named Lord Cernnus and he was a knight and nephew to the king. Now the king was very fond of Cernnus and was determined to find his nephew a wonderful bride. The king searched far and wide and finally found the most beautiful and graceful woman in all the lands, Lady Salvia. It was said that Lady Salvia had long brown hair the colour of a wren’s feather, and her eyes were almond shaped and as blue as calm northern lakes. Every suitor across the land admired her, although none had been able to win her hand. Cernnus was extremely happy with the king’s choice of his bride, but Lady Salvia was not so keen on the marriage. For you see, she was already in love with a poet named Ryante and the pair had pledged their undying love to one another. However as the king himself desired the union to take place, Salvia was obliged by duty to do the right thing, despite her wishes. She left Ryante and set out to marry Cernnus at the palace. On the day of the wedding a powerful enchanter named Galius came to the celebrations at court. The enchanter was in awe of Salvia’s beauty and fell deeply in love the moment he laid eyes on her. Galius decided he wanted Salvia for himself, and in his obsession he could not fathom that she would have a child to another man, namely Cernnus. No, Galius wanted Salvia to have his child. So on the wedding night he casts a spell on Cernnus to fall into a deep sleep while Galius took the physical form of Cernnus and lay with Salvia.’

‘Sounds like a top notch guy.’ I mused.

‘I reckon there’s half a dozen of them on any night of the week down at The Hanged Man.’ grinned Varric. ‘Anyway where was I? Ah yes, so Galius casts a spell and pretends to be Cernnus in order to sleep with Salvia. Galius continued to do this night after night until Salvia finally fell pregnant. And then the enchanter leaves court, and both Salvia and Cernnus are none the wiser as to what has taken place. Months later Salvia gives birth to a boy, Wilheim, who grows to be strong, tall, handsome, and exceptionally smart. As Wilheim grows up he is encouraged by Cernnus to live at court and Wilheim spends more and more time with the king, almost looking upon the ruler as his own father. And the king, who has no children of his own, loves Wilheim as a son and involves him in the daily ruling of his kingdom, in the hope that one day he will take his place on the throne.’

‘Hang on, why wouldn’t Cernnus be next in line to the throne?’ I frowned ‘He was the nephew of the king, wasn’t he?’

Varric waved his hand. ‘Irrelevant Sparrow, the fact was Wilheim was favoured by the king to be the next in line. And Wilheim had the royal bloodline, or so everyone thought, for his father was Cernnus. On Wilheim’s nineteenth birthday, the king decided to throw a large celebration for Wilheim. There were festivities and everyone from across the lands came to celebrate. It was on that day that the enchanter Galius returned to court. He pulled Wilheim and Cernnus aside, informing them of the terrible truth that he in fact was Wilheim’s real father. This meant that Wilheim held no royal bloodline and would therefore hold no standing to claim the throne when the king died.’

‘Nice birthday surprise eh?’ I grinned, eager to hear more.

‘Oh I dunno, I’ve had worse.’ chuckled Varric ‘Anyway, upon hearing this news Cernnus became furious and so did Wilheim, but more so for the loss of opportunity to take the throne rather than the deception of the act itself. Cernnus makes an offer to pay the enchanter all the gold in his treasury if he keeps quiet about what has happened, but Galius refuses. Instead Galius promises to only keep the secret hidden if he can take Salvia with him. So what do you think Cernnus did? Without hesitation Cernnus accepts the offer, more concerned about his title and prospects than his own wife. Wilheim was also unmoved, more concerned about the crown than his own mother. Despite her tears and pleas for mercy, Salvia was taken against her will from her home. She curses her husband for abandoning her, despite her sacrificing everything for him. She curses Wilheim for forsaking his own mother in order to secure his position as next in line to the throne. But it doesn’t make a jot of difference. Galius takes Salvia back to his fortress and there she was held as his captive wife.’

Feeling a little disheartened, I waited for the happy part of the story to come. ‘Annnd? Then what happened? Did her first love finally come and rescue her? Ryante came and rescued her, am I right?’

Varric took a swig of his ale, shaking his head. ‘No, Ryante never came. No one did. Wilheim eventually took the throne, and Cernnus remarried not too long after. Salvia was kept prisoner by Galius for the rest of her life until she died a grief stricken old woman.’. The dwarf grew serious, drawing closer to me. ‘Sparrow, the moral of the story is simple; even when you try and do the right thing you can still get screwed over. Being honourable counts for shit all when you’re the only one suffering for it. You might as well be true to yourself before you have everything robbed from you, including your freewill.’

‘It’s already been taken.’ I muttered. Throwing the dwarf a dry look, I reached for the jug and poured generously. ‘Okay then, for the sake of curiosity. What would you have advised Salvia to have done instead?’

The dwarf leaned in even closer, nudging me firmly with his stubby finger. ‘I’d have told her not to have sacrificed herself for a king, or lord or even the bloody Maker himself!’. Varric frowned, not knowing whether he and I were on the same page. ‘Sparrow, I’m saying if you’re unhappy then don’t sit around waiting for someone else to rescue you. Not Curly, or Goldilocks or whoever else you have lined up in that head of yours. And don’t sit around expecting things to get better when we all know they can get a heck of a lot worse. Corypheus is dead and the Inquisition has done its job, you’re not obligated anymore to keep the peace. So get the hell outta Ferelden. Get out and never look back’. His eyes darted around, making sure no one was listening. ‘Pack your bags kid and leave Denerim, and start living your life again.’

‘And where would I go?’ I scoffed, half believing the rogue. Most likely he was joking, and yet the expression on his face told me he wasn’t. And some part of me knew I was asking him where to go because I desperately needed a place to go to.

‘Does it matter where?’ shrugged Varric ‘Just go somewhere quiet, you get me? Lay low, like you did in Kirkwall. Get a hood and shadowy trade to earn you some clink. Not too shadowy, I mean don’t take up any jobs involving giant rats or blood mages. Look, it’s obvious you don’t want to be the queen, there’s a no brainer. And I don’t blame you, who the heck would want that thrown on them after all the shit we’ve been through. So this is what you do, your majesty. Smile, escape when no one’s watching, and get the hell out of Ferelden while you still can.’

‘What do you mean, while I still can?’ I frowned, eyeing up and down the uneasy dwarf. I had the sneaky suspicion Varric wasn’t telling me the entire story.

Varric appeared troubled, rubbing the reddish brown hair on his chest. ‘Look I might of heard something the other week when I was down in the village. A friend of a friend knows a guy who is close to Arl Eamon.’

Feeling more than a little uneasy, my attention held fast. ‘And? What has he got to do with anything?’

‘Well let’s put it this way – The Arl of Denerim isn’t the man with the heart of gold that we all thought he was.’ explained Varric ‘Look I didn’t want to say anything, but I felt you oughta know.’

Laughing at the observation, I was convinced Varric was merely trying to be funny. It was no secret that Eamon was behind my arranged marriage, and that the Arl was more than a little determined to rule from afar. He was the ever annoying presence in the palace that always made his concerns well heard by anyone unfortunate to be around him. And to top it off he appeared to hold a great influence over Alistair to which he used to his advantage to steer Ferelden into the direction he saw most fitting.

‘So your friend of a friend told you Eamon is an opinionated and annoying old geezer?’ I mused ‘Really Varric, I could have told you that myself. He also has a fondness for mushroom quiche if you must know?’

‘Shut up and listen.’ continued Varric seriously ‘When Cailan was king, he and Anora were together for six years, and Anora didn’t fall pregnant once. Apparently Eamon was convinced Anora was barren, and was urging Cailan to reconsider another wife. But Cailan flat out refused and said he’d never divorce Anora. So Eamon decided to take matters into his own hands.’

Frowning, I shook my head. ‘Meaning what exactly?’

‘Eamon had made arrangements to have Anora murdered when Cailan was away, fighting the battle at Ostagar.’ whispered Varric urgently.

‘Bullshit.’ I replied in disbelief ‘Says who? Some town drunk in the village.’

Varric crossed his fingers, as if silently making a pact. ‘Sparrow, this guy who told me is as honest as they come. I swear it on my ancestors. He told me this friend of a friend is close to Eamon and swears black and blue that he was asked by the Arl himself to poison Anora with damsel root, in her tea at night. Eamon advised him it would take a few weeks but she’d eventually weaken from the poison and die, and no one would be any the wiser. This guy even gave her several doses of the stuff in her tea, but then received a letter from Eamon saying to halt the plan when it was learned that King Cailan was dead.’

I was shocked. Could Eamon really have been that calculating? That heartless? ‘I can’t believe it.’ I murmured, sinking into my seat ‘If it’s true then I’m going to be sleeping a little more lightly back at the palace.’

Varric stood up from the table, seeing Alistair approach from afar. ‘Believe it or not Sparrow, but if I were you I wouldn’t want to stick around for the main act.’. The dwarf clapped his hands at Alistair, beaming with a welcoming smile. ‘Another drink, Your Majestic Majesty? I was just about to crack open the old vineyard 44, you won’t taste a finer drop this side of Ferelden.’

Alistair nodded pleasantly. ‘Sounds very nice, Varric.’. Sitting down beside me, the king raised a brow. ‘Someone’s been chewing your ear off I see? You look bored witless.’

It wasn’t boredom that Alistair saw on my face. It was concern, agitation, fear and disbelief, mixed together to reveal an expression of misinterpreted disinterest. The king leant over and kiss me lightly on the mouth, his lips lingering as if wanting more.

‘Smile.’ he whispered, running a reassuring hand along my back. ‘You have a lot to be happy about. We both do.’

I watched as Varric lingered by the bar, his words still ringing in my head as his eyes darted uneasily to mine. We both knew I was in trouble. Turning my attention back to Alistair, I smiled politely.

‘Of course, there’s much to look forward to in future days.’ I replied. Although as easy as it was to assume the worst, I knew I had to give Alistair a chance before I jumped to any murky conclusions. ‘Alistair, tell me something. What would happen if I told you that I never wanted to have children?’

His brown eyes betrayed him where his casual smile didn’t. It was a moment of hesitation, knowing there was no easy way to answer truthfully without completely crushing my spirit.

‘We don’t need to worry about that at the moment, surely?’ he dismissed pleasantly ‘Let’s just enjoy the night, shall we? There’s plenty of time to discuss such matters.’

‘Well no, I’m discussing it now.’ I replied shortly ‘You said on our wedding night you’d never forced me to have children with you. And I’m asking you now, are you willing to honour that?’

Alistair sighed, looking at me as if I were some pitiable orphan in the streets of Halamshiral. ‘Ophelia there is no easy way to say this.’

My stomach lurched at his response. ‘To say what? There is nothing to say. You already told me there would be no pressure.’

The man placed a gentle hand on mine. ‘My love, I’m the king of Ferelden. You’re the queen. Unless we can find a way to live forever we’re going to need someone to sit on the throne when we’ve passed on.’

‘What about Kieran?’ I suggested, feeling a little hopeful ‘He is your first born.’

Alistair shook his head. ‘No, he’s a bastard.’

‘You’re a bastard.’ I pointed out, grinning as Alistair glared at me with a playful pretend look of annoyance.

‘Thanks,’ he replied ‘and from I recall it took an exceptional set of circumstances to finally place me on the throne. No it would never work with Kieran, no matter how much I am fond of the boy. Since I’m married to you, the kingdom expects a child from you.’. Alistair sighed heavily as he noticed the colour draining from my face. ‘Look I don’t want you to think you will be forced into this. It’s just, I had hoped one day you would come to see that it’s the only solution we have on the table.’

‘And if I refuse?’ I asked quietly.

‘Ophelia’. Alistair held my hand and placed a kiss on it. ‘We don’t need to worry about such things right now. We have time on our side, you and I are not that old yet.’

Feeling completely betrayed, I stared off in the distance to where Cullen was. He was standing by the entrance of the tavern, exchanging a few words with a soldier. Throwing one small glance my way, he began to ascend the stairs and departed the tavern.

‘You lied to me.’ I replied in dismay ‘You knew that sooner or later I would have to have your child, even if it were against my wishes. You knew that all along, even before we were married.’

Alistair shook his head sadly. ‘You know that was never my intention.’

‘But your council can force that on me and it’s fine?’ I replied angrily ‘Let them do the dirty work and you sit back and wash your hands of any blame? You’re still condoning it, Alistair.’

‘We’re all forced to do things that we don’t want to do.’ replied Alistair sternly ‘Surely you realised the kingdom expects you to produce an heir? That was not something I wanted, but I’m not doing all this for my own selfish needs. Did you think it was ever my desire to marry so soon after the death of my wife? Of course not. But I had a duty so I did it.’

‘So as abhorrent as it was to marry me, fucking me was completely fine?’ I scorned ‘Or was that you merely doing your duty as well?’

Alistair looked angry at the comment. ‘That is not what I meant and you know it.’

‘It’s hard to know these days what you actually do mean.’ I frowned ‘You say one thing and do another. Sometimes I wonder who you really are, and what you actually feel.’

‘Ask me anything.’ remarked Alistair in annoyance ‘I’ll tell you the truth.’

‘Will you and the council respect my wishes that I never sire an heir?’ I asked flat out.

‘No.’ replied Alistair quietly, unable to look me in the eye ‘One way or the other, you will have to bear my child eventually’.

‘Or what?’ I asked a little fearfully.

Alistair shook his head, not wanting to answer the question. ‘Ophelia stop this, I do not wish to argue in public about this any longer. This is a private matter better left to be discussed behind closed doors.’

Reaching for my hand, he tried to calm me but I was too furious to stay seated and be placated.

‘Ophelia wait.’ appealed Alistair.

‘No.’ I whispered angrily ‘I’ve had enough lies from you and your kingdom.’

Abruptly I stood up and made my way towards the entrance, wondering how in the blazes I was ever going to get out of the mess I had now found myself in.


	100. Fare Thee Well

_Lovely lamb go to sleep,_

_dream to the stars up high._

_hush now love, do not cry,_

_I’ll sing you a lullaby._

The infant wailed loudly in her arms as Leliana paced her chambers, gently patting and singing to the coddled child in her arms. Nothing she had been doing for the last hour had been able to calm the child and the stress of no sleep and responsibilities of motherhood were taking their toll.

‘Shhhh,’ she whispered as the baby screamed louder ‘you’ve slept and been fed and been changed and rocked and sung to. What more is there?’

A sharp knock on the door distracted the Spymaster, and she hastily opened it. ‘Cullen it’s about time-’ Leliana scolded, only to realise it was not the templar at the door. ‘Oh. It’s you.’

Morrigan stood still as a statue, arms crossed tight as she look at the Divine with contempt. ‘Yes it’s me.’ she replied dryly ‘May I come in?’

Valahorn began to wail loudly and Leliana sighed in frustration. ‘Morrigan now’s not the best time to talk, as you can see. Why don’t you arrange to see me tomorrow, you can arrange a time with my personal assistant.’

Displeased at Leliana’s attempt to dismiss her, the witch remained where she was. Morrigan ran her eyes over the child curiously. A small tuft of dark hair was growing on the boy’s head, a mere shadow but nevertheless there it was. ‘He doesn’t take after you,’ Morrigan observed ‘and I can’t see a resemblance to Cullen in the slightest. Although I must say he does remind me of someone at the keep.’

Growing angry at the taunting observation, Leliana grabbed the door, ready to slam it in Morrigan’s face. ‘As I said, you can arrange a meeting with my personal assistant. Goodni-.’

‘I can settle him if you like?’ interjected Morrigan. The baby continued to cry, and pursing her lips in irritation she watched Leliana unsuccessfully pat the infant to settle. ‘Here.’ the witch encouraged, extending her hands towards Valahorn.

Distrustful of everyone, especially Morrigan, Leliana held the child closer.

Rolling her eyes, Morrigan continued to stand with her hands extended. ‘Leliana I’m not my mother, you needn’t fear the child will never be seen again the moment he is in my arms. Give him to me, I’ve settled Kieran enough times to know a colicky baby when I see one.’

‘Colicky?’ frowned Leliana.

Morrigan gently took Valahorn from Leliana, rocking the child as she held the baby a little more upright in her arms. The child continued to cry but after several minutes of swaying and gravity, Valahorn settled and his eyes drifted shut into a blissful sleep.

‘Unbelievable.’ exclaimed Leliana in disbelief. Rubbing her messy ginger tresses, she appeared completely stumped. ‘I couldn’t have got him to sleep like that if you’d given me another hundred hours to try.’

‘Kieran was a fussy baby also.’ recalled Morrigan ‘He always wanted me to hold him. For the first eighteen months of his life I had him strapped to my chest with a cloth, it was the only way he’d settle. The moment I dared place him in a crib he would wail louder than a banshee.’. Rocking the baby, the child was now sleeping contently.

Placing the baby back in Leliana’s arms, the witch nodded promptly. ‘There. You are welcome.’

The Spymaster held the child close once more, her eyes darting suspiciously to the woman. ‘Why are you here Morrigan?’

Upon being reminded of her purpose, the witch of the wilds nodded seriously. ‘I had an unexpected visitor today. Can you guess who it was?’

‘I haven’t exactly been mingling with guests, have I?’ replied Leliana tiredly ‘I’ve been here with Valahorn, constantly trying to settle, feed, sleep, settle, feed, sleep. It never ends, and in between work and this child do you really think I have time to know who is coming and going from this keep?’

Morrigan continued to glare at Leliana, unconvinced that she was none the wiser.

‘Fine.’ sighed Leliana, ‘I may have heard that he was here. Not that I knew about it until he had already arrived.’

‘By he, I’m assuming you mean the King of Ferelden.’ observed Morrigan crisply ‘King Alistair Theirin, who took it upon himself to find my son and introduce himself when I was elsewhere. What happened to our agreement?’

Leliana smirked at the woman. ‘Did I agree to stop Alistair from introducing himself to your son? I must have missed that conversation.’

Morrigan was not to be trifled with and she threw her signature hostile glare. ‘You extended an offer for me and my son to come to Skyhold, and a promise of protection. I relayed my concerns of Kieran’s father coming for him one day and you reassured me that if I helped you conceive that child with Jowan then you would protect us.’

‘Lower your voice.’ warned Leliana, looking very agitated at the brazenness of her companion daring to speak so openly. ‘There are eyes and ears everywhere these days. Do not speak of such things out loud ever again.’. Placing Valahorn in his crib, the Spymaster turned back to Morrigan with a steely glare. ‘I said I would protect you if Alistair came for the child. Nothing has changed. He merely came to visit, not to take Kieran. You’re overreacting. ’

Morrigan scoffed. ‘Do you really think that Alistair was ever going to ride in on his white horse and simply pluck my son from Skyhold?’ asked the witch crisply ‘No. These things are done in a delicate manner by royalty. With kindness and familiarity Alistair will pry what is half his, and unless there are measures put in place to secure Kieran’s protection I will lose my son to the kingdom of Ferelden before too long. And let me be clear with you Leliana, I will not lose my son.’

‘Well then it seems you have no cause for concern.’ retorted Leliana, rolling her eyes. Valahorn began to fuss again and Leliana groaned, picking up the baby once more. ‘Was Alistair threatening? Did he do anything to make you as uneasy as you appear to be now?’

‘It’s hard to raise a child alone.’ acknowledged Morrigan pensively ‘In the early days you are quite isolated, dedicating all your time to this one tiny helpless being. You would do anything for them, and you do, at the sacrifice of all else. That is what you do when you raise a child. As they grow you desperately want to do everything in your power to keep them safe. To teach them right from wrong. To warn of the hidden dangers of the world, for there are many as we both are well aware. These lessons take time, patience and commitment.’. Morrigan placed her hands sharply on her hips. ‘To see a stranger now walk into my son’s life after eleven years of hard work and claim a kinship to him is a bitter brew to swallow. Yet Alistair has come and done that. Finally he has come. And my son Kieran couldn’t be more delighted. Have I reason to be concerned about that? What do you think?’. The witch pointed sharply at the woman. ‘I need your reassurance that you will keep Alistair away from Skyhold from now on.’

‘He is the king of Ferelden.’ protested Leliana ‘I can hardly stop him from coming onto his own lands. The title of Skyhold falls under crown land.’

‘Do not try and weasel your way out of a promise by using Ferelden land ownership laws with me.’ warned Morrigan ‘I can already foresee what will happen here. Alistair will come to visit more and more, and that security for Kieran and I that you promised will grow weaker and weaker. What will you do come the day when Alistair requests Kieran join him permanently at Denerim Palace? Do you have a plan if he tries? Or were your reassurances the mere lies of a delusional woman desperate to secure her own interests at any cost?’

Valahorn began to wail louder, his shrill cry filling the chamber.

‘What can I do?’ snapped Leliana, growing more and more frustrated as she failed to settle her child. ‘The Chantry has no power here if Alistair chooses to come to Skyhold. Do you wish me to start a war over a father wanting to see his son?’

Morrigan tilted her head, a sly smile on her face. ‘You tell me? Perhaps we should invite Jowan here also? Has the real father seen his son yet?’

Leliana turned to the woman furiously. ‘If you tell anyone about what happened that night, or your involvement, you won’t need to fear Alistair Theirin. I will ensure the Chantry hunt you down and kill you and your son. Do I make myself clear?’

Morrigan held the green eyes of the spymaster, her face growing deathly serious. ‘My my, how the sheep reveals to be the wolf.’ she observed darkly ‘Is that how it’s going to be from now on?’

The baby wailed louder, and Leliana clenched her teeth in frustration.

‘Get out of my chambers.’ she hissed ‘We will discuss this later.’

Morrigan did not wait for any more lies, threats or excuses to spill from the Spymaster’s mouth. She turned swiftly and departed, knowing now she and her son were no longer safe at Skyhold.

****

Too excited to sleep, Kieran tossed and turned in his bed by the window. His mother had left their chambers some time before, promising to return soon. She had told Kieran she had needed to speak with someone in the keep and that it would not take long. The boy didn’t mind, he wanted to stay up for a while longer and think upon the day. After all these years he had finally met his real father. And yet it was better than that. His father was a king. A king! And even though his mother had strictly warned him not to entertain such thoughts, Kieran knew that meant he was a prince!

A smile grew wide on Kieran’s face, unable to supress the excitement at such a discovery. He wondered when he could see his father next, or even when he could go visit him in his castle. Kieran had read many stories about kings and queens living in large stone castles, with turrets and bright blue flags flapping in the sun. They were unlike the Orlesian palaces of the Empress, which looked more like large Orlesian manors rather that actual castles. He imagined a Ferelden castle was more impressive and he was determined to see one as soon as possible.

Climbing out of bed, Kieran hastily dressed himself in his warm woollen day clothes and pulled on his rabbit skin boots. His father had apologised to him that afternoon, saying on this occasion his visit to Skyhold would have to be a short one and he would be returning to Denerim in the morning. There was not much time, but Kieran knew that he needed to give something to his father before he left. A keepsake to take back to Denerim, and something that was very special to Kieran. It was silver locket that he had found in a drain at Skyhold. He planned to put a strand of his hair in it and wanted his father to have it for he was determined to ensure that Alistair did not forget about him once he left. A king would know many important people, so Kieran knew he had to make a good impression. And kings always liked gifts, especially silver ones, or so he had read in his stories.

Such possessions that he found he kept secret and away from his mother, who was very sharp and often cleaned their chambers excessively well. He knew that his mother would have made him hand in the silver locket to Madame Ruthie, so he kept it away from his chambers. There was a small grove of trees by the river just outside of Skyhold, a secret hiding place that Kieran had discovered with some of the other children during the winter. They often liked to visit there and keep treasures in their shops. They pretended to be merchants who sold their wares in the city. Gretel had a large collection of pinecones and river pebbles in her part of the grove, while Rendon kept speckled feathers in his, and the twins Lauchie and Bailey had several swords and a shield that they had stolen from the armoury when no one was looking. In Kieran’s shop he kept several books, an empty potion bottle and of course, the silver locket.

Quietly Kieran snuck out of his chambers, scampering along the lonely corridor until he reached the garden courtyard. Spotting several guards walking along the pathway, he hid in the shadows until they passed and then continued along to the main gates of Skyhold. To his dismay the gates were shut closed, but he knew of another way to escape. His friend Rendon had showed him a secret escape from the mages tower through a concealed door in the stone wall of the lower level. Apparently before it had been the mages tower, the tower served as an archery tower to defend the castle, and a secret door had ensured a secret escape if the keep fell under siege.

Skipping up the stairs to the battlements, Kieran was forced to hide several times in the shadows of the parapet to avoid being seen. Two watchman spotted him as he passed through an isolated room, where they were involved in an intense game of Wicked Grace. Being more interested in their cards, they merely nodded at the child as he passed and left him to his own devices. When Kieran finally arrived at the mages tower he discovered the main door to the tower was still open, and inside he could see several mages still working within. It would be hard to sneak by, but he was determined and so he silently watched on, waiting for the moment he could enter and approach the secret door unseen.

****

As I bustled out of the tavern, the warm spring night air hit me and finally I could breathe once more. Panic fell over me, for I was beginning to realise this arranged marriage was going to cause more problems than I had initially thought. As hard as I tried I couldn’t shake that feeling of being trapped and I knew there was nowhere to escape to. I couldn’t even return to my chambers, for now they were Alistair’s chambers also.

The smell of smoke distracted me, and my heart skipped a beat as I noticed Cullen a small distance ahead.

Lighting a pipe by a crumbling stone column in the gardens, the templar’s face was illuminated in a flash of fire as he struck a match on a small tin in his cupped hands. Serene as the late evening that had settled upon Skyhold, he looked out onto the dark greenery in silence. So lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear me approach, turning only when he heard my footsteps close by.

‘I didn’t know you smoked a pipe?’ I remarked, desperately thankful that he was here to talk to.

Puffing a plume of smoke, the Commander turned to me in slight surprise. ‘I took a liking to the Esalthas when I was in the Arbour Wilds. It helps clear my mind. Maker knows I can’t see the logic of anything, especially on nights like tonight.’

‘Tell me about it.’ I muttered.

Cullen looked at me curiously. ‘After our last conversation I was convinced I was the last person you would be wanting to talk to right now.’

‘Things have changed.’ I muttered.

Grabbing the pipe from him I threw him a faint smile as I took a puff, coughing violently as I handed it back. It tasted like tobacco and dirt. Cullen chuckled, shaking his head as he took another puff.

‘Goodness! That is like smoking one of Blackwall’s fire pits!’ I rasped ‘You’re playing with fire there. Literally.’

The Commander face grew long as he turned back to look upon the garden before him once more. ‘And you are playing with fire back in Denerim.’ he observed quietly.

‘What are you talking about?’ I frowned.

Tapping his pipe against the stone, a little ash drifted from the bowl of the pipe. Cullen appeared to be delaying his answer as he drew a deep breath, exhaling a cloudy puff of smoke. ‘Alistair mentioned that Michel de Chevin has been at the palace this entire time.’ he finally responded. Cullen paused to throw me a disapproving glance. ‘Naturally I know what that means all too well.’

Rolling my eyes, I was beginning to regret pursuing the Commander out here. ‘I suppose it means Michel is at Denerim Palace then?’

The Commander scoffed at the comment, shaking his head. ‘You always had this arrogance of being above reprisal. I don’t know whether it is some irritating trait of the noble birth line, or the result of being coddled for that many years in the circle tower. Either way, it needs to stop. You need to open your eyes, Ophelia. You are married to a king. You are not the king himself.’

‘Meaning what?’ I replied shortly, growing more agitated at the man and his obvious observations. ‘That I’m not a king? Well observed, Cullen. I’m a queen. Okay? I’m a fucking queen. I’m reminded of it again and again from every person that I meet, like I’m some idiot who didn’t realise that. I’m the fucking queen of Ferelden and wife to King Alistair. Fine.’

Cullen raised his brows at my heated response. Suspecting there was more to my outburst, he made the decision not to pursue it when there were other more pressing matters that needed to be addressed.

‘Take care to remember it.’ he warned ‘Your actions will be scrutinised by standards far above the average man, and there will be no leniency for mistakes. A king can misbehave, but a queen cannot. So be careful, Ophelia. Alistair may appear a kind man, but he has been wounded in the past. It is unwise to prod a wounded beast.’

‘Is that what I’m doing, is it?’ I chortled ‘May I ask who was the person that wounded him in the first place? You stand there warning me when it is you that murdered Sierra. If anyone has to be careful I’d say it was you.’

‘Yes, I’m well aware of the tension surrounding that matter.’ replied Cullen flatly ‘But there were problems with Alistair and Sierra’s union long before she died. Did you forget that Sierra and I were together? Alistair knows she loved me.’

‘Yet she ran off with Alistair?’ I replied dryly ‘Isn’t love a fickle game?’

Cullen frowned, shaking his head. ‘Not exactly. At the Kinloch Hold she was desperate for her freedom and had been for some time, as you could well relate. When Duncan came to the circle tower, she came to me and asked whether I thought there was a chance they would take recruits from the mages tower.’. The Commander shrugged. ‘I told her if there was an impending Blight it was possible but if she left we would most likely never see each other again. Sierra did not want to leave me and left it at that. She dismissed her curiosity and decided to stay at the tower. Don't you see? The sad reality was she loved me more than her freedom. When she made the unfortunate decision to help Jowan and Lily escape, she was caught and forced to go with Duncan to become a Grey Warden. From what Leliana told me later of what happened during that time, Sierra experienced some horrific things and shared those experiences with Alistair. By the time she returned to the Kinloch Hold she was a changed person, as was I. We were not the innocent secret lovers of former days. We were damaged. We were different.’. Cullen shook his head, turning to me. ‘Tragedy may change the mind, but not the heart. Sierra had loved me and there was nothing that Alistair could do about that. When it comes to Alistair Theirin’s wives, he has always unfortunately lived in another man’s shadow. Namely mine. But now you are fucking Michel behind his back, and that is never a good idea. Your adultery will be your undoing.’

‘Concern noted.’ I replied a little coldly. There was something about being reminded about Sierra and Cullen that displeased me as much as it did Alistair. ‘Perhaps you should save your energy for Leliana and Valahorn, and less so on gossip that is founded on nothing but your own insecurities.’

The Commander laughed bitterly at my words, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Words laced with such spitefulness. You and Leliana may have more in common that you realise. Childish gibes aside, need I point out again to you that he’s the fucking king of Ferelden? Ophelia this isn’t like the days back in Skyhold. What you’re doing with Michel-

‘is none of your business.’ I hissed.

‘No,’ scowled Cullen ‘it is treason. And it will land you both six feet under if you’re not careful. Not that I give a damn about the Maister of Blades, but you?’. The templar cast a shadowy look at me, his face haunted by predictions that had not yet come to pass. ‘You will die if you continue this deceit. Did you never read your history books? Queen Geraldine’s head was cut clean off her shoulders by King Richard himself when it was discovered she was sleeping with his cousin, The Earl of Bannorn. King Teridan buried his third wife alive with the court minstrel that she was intimately involved with. That is the way of the Fereldens. They don’t take kindly to royal adultery and do not approve of divorce. So you must put an end to this. If Michel cared for you he would have never allow this. Maker save him for if I ever see him again I’ll throttle the bastard for putting you in such jeopardy.’

Scoffing at the comment, I knew Cullen was missing the main point. ‘Alistair is not in love with me. He put me on throne because of my title and it would be foolish to kill off the queen he needs to feather his kingdom. He’s not about to execute me because I cheated on our love. And trust me, we all know this is a marriage for show. No one’s cutting my head off or burying me or doing anything. Besides, everyone thinks I am guided by the Maker.’

‘Oh yes because Andraste was clearly safe playing that card.’ replied Cullen dismissively. ‘Do you think the people will still adore you when they learn you’ve been sleeping with a chevalier from Orlais, and in doing so betrayed their beloved king? You’re not even Ferelden born! Did you ever think that they already suffer a small insult from the fact that their queen comes from the Free Marches? The uncivilised north. What do you think the people will say when they find out the Maker’s chosen is nothing more than a harlot foreigner with a crown on her head? They’ll be calling for your head on a pike at the crossroads before dawn.’

In disbelief at his crude assessment, I threw him a filthy look. ‘Harlot am I? You’re a prick, Cullen.’

‘Because I don’t sugar coat the facts?’ observed Cullen cynically ‘If I don’t, who will? You’re the Queen of Ferelden and you’re committing adultery. It’s better you know now that you’re playing with fire before you get horrendously burned.’

‘You’re not listening.’ I cried out ‘This is an arranged marriage. It has nothing to do with love. Alistair has all but told me. In fact just before in the tavern he admitted the last thing that he wanted was to be married to me so soon after his wife’s death.’

Cullen cursed under his breath, kicking the wall in anger. ‘Maker are you that fucking naïve?!! Were we not in the same tavern just then? The King of Ferelden couldn’t keep his fucking hands off you and you think he’s not going to care when he finds out you are sleeping with another man behind his back?!! Wake up Ophelia, this isn’t a game.’

Furious at Cullen, I began to walk away. I was beyond arguing my personal decisions with this man. ‘This conversation is over.’ I shouted ‘I’m sorry I ever came to this fucking keep.’

‘Come back here, I’m not finished talking to you.’ ordered Cullen angrily, chasing after me as I hastened my pace.

His arms wrapped around my hips, turning me roughly to face him.

‘Stop!’ I yelled, furiously trying to pry myself from him ‘I don’t have to do what you say!’

‘Oh yes you do.’ growled Cullen, tightening his grip. His eyes flashed furiously into mine. ‘Maker help me I’ll do what I have to but you will hear me out. I am not going to stand by and watch you throw your life away like this for that conceited and misconstrued independence you are flaunting. It’s one thing to lose you to Alistair, it’s another to see you die so recklessly. That’s not something I will be able to live with. So I am telling you now - let Michel go.’

In frustration I tried to pull myself from his hold. Cullen’s strong hands moved to my arms, gripping them tighter.

‘Cullen you don’t understand. Without Michel I am alone and defenceless in that palace. I need protection. I have lost you and your protection, so let me have Michel.’

The fury on Cullen’s face softened, a weary sigh escaping from his lips as he loosened his grip. ‘Do you really think you have lost me?’ he asked seriously ‘You haven’t. I love you. I would do anything for you Ophelia, including protect you. That is the reason I am here now pleading with you to stop this before it gets you killed.’

Angrily I tried to pull away once more. ‘So if I tried to fuck you behind Alistair’s back, would that be received any differently? Oh no, I’m sure that would be fine. But with Michel? Oh no that’s treason.’

Painfully serious, Cullen held my arms firm. ‘I would not entertain the thought, let alone act on such a deed.’ he replied with deep sincerity. ‘With Alistair after my own neck why would I make it easier for him to justify coming after you? I desperately regret killing Sierra knowing how much at risk it puts you now. My blood was up and I failed to see the price it would cost me.’

‘You honestly think that I am that price?’ I asked precariously.

The Commander’s face told me he did. ‘Maker how I wish it were not so, but Alistair knows my weakness. He knows that I love you. And he knows that I took away someone that he loved. Do you not see how easy it would be for him to turn on you if you give him the opportunity? He wants retaliation and is yet to have it. If he finds out that you are betraying him, what cause does he have to keep you? He can hurt me in the best way possible – by taking your life. That would give some grieving men a great satisfaction’

There was a chill in the air as Cullen spoke those words. I couldn’t help but feel extremely uneasy. ‘Yes but…you…you said it yourself,’ I replied uncertainly, fumbling with my words ‘Alistair is fond of me. He’s not about to execute me.’

Cullen sighed. ‘Let me be clear with you. Most Ferelden men are not like your gushing Orlesian, full of sickening poetry and love-struck intrigues. Fereldens are proud and hardy folk that uphold a very traditional sense of marriage. A wife’s duty is to raise a family and be true to her husband. If you bruise Alistair’s ego he will not show mercy. No man with any self-respect, let alone a king, will stand aside to watch his queen fuck another man in his service. Give the man a little credit here.’

I was running out of arguments and we both knew it. Cullen pointed at me sharply, knowing he had finally got through.

‘Alistair likes you.’ observed the Commander seriously ‘You don’t have to be a chevalier to see it. I saw the intimacy between you both in the tavern. I saw the way he responded to you. Those aren’t the actions of man that doesn’t feel something for you. So you need to be careful.’

‘You’re right.’ I frowned, thanking the gods that what had happened between Michel and I had not gone on any longer than it had. ‘The moment I return to Denerim I will tell Michel to leave for Orlais. He is not safe at the palace, I see that now.’

Cullen shook his head ‘This isn’t about Michel, hang him for all I care. Send him away for your own safety.’

‘For his safety, and my own, he cannot stay there.’ I replied with an understanding nod. ‘For what it’s worth I appreciate your concern, Cullen. Perhaps I’ve been naïve to think this would have played out unnoticed. You didn’t need to warn me but you did, and I feel a little ashamed standing here acknowledging that, but nevertheless…thank you. I will tell Michel to leave Denerim immediately.’

‘Finally some sense.’ breathed Cullen in relief. He rubbed his neck achingly, trying to relieve some of the built up tension.

‘And then I am going to escape Ferelden.’ I added quietly.

His hand dropped in surprise. ‘You’re what?’ Cullen asked, looking as if he had misheard me.

I was determined and serious, and he could see it. ‘Cullen I’m not interested in playing the role of the imprisoned queen, precariously tiptoeing around the court and Alistair’s pleasure. I mean it, I’m going to leave Ferelden. I’m going to leave behind this life that I never chose to be apart of.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ chided Cullen, shifting a little agitatedly in his footing. He pointed his pipe at me. ‘You’ll go back to Denerim, tell Michel to leave and after that just keep in Alistair’s good graces. Then you’ll be safe once more and there’ll be no cause for concern.’

Bitterly laughing at his plan, I knew it was never going to be that simple. ‘Safe until when, Cullen? Until I birth an heir for the kingdom? Will I be safe then? What if I can’t? Or don’t want to? Because I don’t want to. I told Alistair that just before. Do you know what he said? He said I didn’t have a choice.’

Cullen’s face grew dark upon hearing that. ‘And what was he suggesting? That he rape you if you protest? Maker’s breath, the nerve of that fucking bastard.’

‘Not in so many words, but how else do you make someone have your child?’ I replied bitterly. ‘I don’t want to be queen let alone sire an heir. What if I want to simply disappear? What if I am still in love with the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order and don’t want to live a life without him?’

‘You and Rylen have a thing going on now?’ mocked Cullen, throwing me a smirk. Noticing my frown, he sighed. ‘You’re already living a life without me. And you’ll continue to do so and put any foolish notion of becoming a stowaway out of that head of yours.’

‘You’re not listening to me Cullen! I’ve tried playing this new life and I don’t like it. So I’m jumping ship.’

Cullen tapped his pipe solemnly. ‘None of us get to choose the hand we play. You need to make do with what you have and live to see another day.’

‘No I don’t think I want to play the game that way.’ I replied darkly, looking out to a clouded night sky above ‘People tell me it is my duty to smile and serve my king. Well fuck that. This isn’t how I wanted it to be for me. So I’m going to go. And I’m not telling you this to cause more drama, or in the secret hope that you’ll follow. I’m telling you this because it’s likely you won’t see me again after tonight. We leave for the palace tomorrow and I know that I won’t return to Skyhold again. I won’t stay in Ferelden either.’

‘You’re being ludicrous.’ dismissed Cullen ‘You’re the Queen of Ferelden. You cannot escape to Kirkwall like in the old days and think no one will notice you. You will be hunted down, and that is a life not worth living. Being a mage, I would have thought you would try to avoid such an outcome.’

Considering my options, I knew there was one chevalier that could ensure I was not without hope. ‘Michel has many connections in Orlais, and is in high favour with the Emperor.’ I pointed out quietly ‘I can escape there and hope to live a relatively normal existence. Perhaps I will be forced to live in hiding, but he has many connections. At least I won’t go hungry or find myself completely penniless on the streets. You may not like Michel but I have no doubt that he will do everything in his power to protect me when I escape.’

The templar was concerned that I was being serious. Gently he reached for my fingers, turning me to face him as he his hands held mine.

‘Ophelia I beg you, stay in Denerim and enjoy a life without worry and danger.’ appealed Cullen gently ‘Alistair will never mistreat you if you stay loyal to him. You stand to live a life of privilege and comfort that I could never have offered you.’

My hand lifted up and fondly ran to his sandy hair, my fingers running through the messy waves. ‘Give me an old hut with a dirt floor and I would have been happy if that meant we could be together.’ I replied sadly. 

Cullen sighed, nodding his head. ‘I know Ophelia, that is how I feel also.’

Pulling me towards his chest, the Commander wrapped his arms tightly around me in an affectionate embrace. His heart beat strong against my ear and in that moment I knew I never wanted to be anywhere else so desperately than here in his arms.

‘I miss you so much.’ he murmured into my hair, gently kissing my head. ‘It’s unbearable how much I miss you.’.

My lips ran across his exposed collar bone and stroked the soft skin of his broad neck. Unable to stop myself, my face drew up to Cullen’s, and standing on my toes I rose to meet his mouth. Gently our lips touched. His taste was the sweetest thing I could remember as we connected. Cullen’s hands clutched my hair, pulling me deeper onto his mouth as he lost control and desperately kissed me, unleashing his longing and desire. All the memories of us being together flooded back and I wanted him fiercely. His rugged stubble scratched me as we connected, and his arms pulled me to him as if he never wanted to let me go.

But I knew that he had to…

‘Good bye, Cullen.’ I murmured, pulling away sadly. ‘There are many things I regret since leaving the Ostwick tower, but you were never one of them. I love you. I love you more than anyone I've ever known. If I had the chance I would have been by your side until the very end.’. Cupping his strong jaw, I held his head and looked deeply into his moreish amber eyes. ‘Don’t let your demons dictate your future any longer. You are a strong man, a good man, tell yourself that every morning no matter rain or shine. I want you to live a beautiful life with Valahorn and raise him to be the good man that his father is.’. Blinking back tears, I nodded to him in encouragement ‘Find your own happiness, wherever that is. Promise me you’ll do that.’

‘Ophelia whatever you are thinking of doing, you need to stop.’ replied Cullen fearfully. His hand drew to my cheek, desperately concerned. The sound of armoured men approaching came from beside us, and Cullen hastily stepped away from me.

‘Her Majesty, Queen Ophelia?’ called out one of the men ‘Are you here?’

Spotting the guards walking towards us, I threw Cullen a sad smile. ‘That’s my cue.’. Waving my hand to men, I affirmed that I was. ‘Yes I’m here.’

‘Queen Ophelia.’ called out the head kings guard, approaching us rather abruptly. ‘The king has sent us to find you. You are required back at your chambers immediately. Come with us.’

‘Ordering her about like one of the recruits?’ observed Cullen in disgust ‘She can do whatever she damn well pleases. We’re speaking at present, so kindly leave.’

‘Can you give us a moment?’ I asked the guard ‘I won’t be long. Tell the king I will return shortly.’

The guards stepped forward, hands on their hilts. ‘We have our orders that you are not to speak to Knight-Commander Cullen. You would do well to step back, my Queen.’

‘Oh so Alistair is forbidding me to speak with Ophelia now?’ chortled Cullen, his hand moving to his own sword ‘This is brilliant.’

‘To the queen of Ferelden, yes.’ replied the guard, standing firm in front of the templar ‘You’ll address her properly, you fucking lout.’

‘Since when?’ I asked angrily, half thinking this was all some sort of joke. Of course the sterner their faces held the more I knew that it wasn’t. ‘Did the king instruct you just now, when he was in the tavern?’

‘Aye just before, when his Majesty saw Knight-Commander Cullen and Her Majesty leave together from The Cock and Bull.’ retorted the guard, throwing a disapproving eye at me.

‘I stepped out for some air. I didn’t leave with the Knight-Commander.’ I snapped back, feeling furious that I was being accused of something I hadn’t done. ‘I’m not going to stand here and be falsely accused and ordered about like this. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

Cullen ran an amused eye up and down the guard before him. ‘It’s fine Ophelia, my sword has missed the taint of blood. Are you ready men?’

The head guard spat at his feet. ‘Come on then you scrubby templar, I’m make pig oat mash outta you.’

‘No, stop this.’ I intervened hastily, knowing it was a capital offence to fight with a guardsman of the king. ‘It’s fine, I’m coming. Let’s go.’

Cullen looked over to me, shocked and angered that this was happening. ‘So your husband is now telling you who you can and cannot speak to? I did not realise this was the way things were headed with you both?’

‘Well obviously Alistair’s overreacting.’ I replied in annoyance ‘Considering I work with the Mage Order and you with the Templars, we’re going to have to communicate. I told him that already. Alistair asked me not to talk to you, but I didn’t think it meant he would send guards after me.’

‘He told you not to talk to me.’ chortled Cullen, rolling his eyes ‘Of course he did.’

‘King Alistair was very clear on his instructions.’ informed the guard ‘You and the Knight-Commander are not to speak to each other, especially not alone in each other’s company.’

‘Aye it his majesty’s orders.’ added another guard gruffly ‘Perhaps you’d better fuck off while you still have legs to walk on.’

Heated by the comment, Cullen was ready to draw his sword. Swiftly I placed a protective hand on the templar’s arm, and the guards, a little roughly, pulled me back by my wrist.

‘Did you just grab her?!! Is this how you treat your queen?’ barked Cullen furiously, shoving the guilty party hard in the chest ‘A little heavy handed, wouldn’t you say? How about you pick on someone your own size? Grab my fucking wrist, I’d more than welcome it.’

The guard spat at the Commander’s feet. ‘She’s under orders not to have contact with you. We’re merely doing our job.’

‘Cullen stop. I will go. Now you know why I need to go.’ I warned, stepping back to the guards.

Silently we both knew I was referring to my decision to escape Ferelden. This was a trickle of things to come, and Cullen and I knew it. Feeling as if this was the last time I would ever see him, I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t bare it. But I knew I had to for his own safety.

‘No, not like this.’ protested Cullen, shaking his head silently at me. His voice grew softer as he turned to me. ‘Not like this.’

Tears began to fill in my eyes, and I could see the grief painfully on his.

‘I have more to say to you,’ appealed Cullen ‘and you said it yourself that you leave tomorrow. When can I say what needs to be said? I need more time Ophelia.’

‘Too fucking bad.’ replied the guard impatiently, pulling my arm to move me on.

‘I must go, Cullen.’ I urged hastily, holding my hand to stop the Commander coming at the guard. The guards unsheathed their swords, drawing them to the templar. ‘You have to let this go. Please Cullen.’

Raising his hands, Cullen took a step away from the swords pointed at him. The guards held their positions until the head guard lowered his blade.

‘Live well, Ophelia.’ Cullen replied wholeheartedly, his eyes sincerely looking into mine. ‘Send my best wishes to Michel and tell him I am happy you have a friend you can rely on…now that you both find yourself away from Skyhold.’

‘Yeah fucking Skyhold sends their regards. Got it.’ grumbled the guard, moving onwards ‘Come on.’

Moving with the guards, I allowed them to escort me away. Throwing a look back over my shoulder I saw Cullen staring at me, his hand still on his hilt as if ready to fight to the death.


	101. Fall into Darkness

Many people over the years had come to wonder how Jowan had become so talented at the arcane arts. He always lied by confessing some secret love of reading late into the night, or a fondness of studying rare magical scrolls. Sometimes he’d make up bigger lies, saying his great-great-great grandfather was a powerful mage named Nawoj, and Jowan merely enjoyed sharing the bloodline of much greater talent. He never replied in earnest, for the truth was rather melancholy. The painful truth was he had become skilled at magic over the years because he’d found losing himself in his work to be the only way to help push out his thoughts of Lily. When he was focused on his work, he was fine and Lily did not haunt his mind. However when Jowan stopped, her memory returned and he was filled with such desperation that he could barely breathe, sleep, or eat.

Jowan felt particulry depressed this particular evening and refused the invitation to a free ale at The Cock and Bull. All the drinking in the world couldn’t lift his spirits at present, for his mind had wandered once more to Lily and then into even darker memories of his childhood. Jowan had suffered the misfortune of being abandoned by his mother and father as a small child. It was a cruel reality for a boy to endure, and an even harder one to digest as a man. Not that the mage pined away for the love of his mother and father. In fact, he hated the pair and often wondered what nasty retribution he would hand out if he were ever to meet them again. No, what bothered Jowan on this particular night was the fact that he could be a father himself. And if that were the case, Valahorn could possibly learn the truth one day of who his real father was and grow to think Jowan had abandoned him. And that made Jowan heavy hearted indeed.

No matter how much the mage wanted to simply forget the matter entirely he knew that he couldn’t. Not if there was a chance that Valahorn was his son. Yet with Leliana determined to claim Cullen was the father, Jowan was not certain how he would ever know the truth. Valahorn had arrived over a month late, but there were occasions when such things did happen. It was not enough proof.

‘I need something. Anything.’ he muttered to himself, turning the unread page of his book.

His thoughts were distracted by a shadowy movement darting in the corner of his eye. The mage’s reflexes were sharp, and suddenly Jowan realised that he was not alone. The hairs on his arms tingled as his eyes skimmed across the room. Jowan knew there was no one except himself on this level of the tower. Whoever was about was not supposed to be here.

Placing his book down quietly, the mage stood up and made his way to the adjoining room. Treading lightly, Jowan crept to the supplies room where a draft was blowing the hanging elfroot. He paused in his tracks, taken aback to discover the secret door to the outside of the keep slightly ajar.

‘It appears someone doesn’t want to be seen leaving Skyhold,’ observed Jowan, his eyes narrowing in suspicion ‘and that someone is most likely a mage familiar with this storage room.’

Unable to leave the matter alone, Jowan drew a black handled athame from the shelf and secured it in his belt. Slipping through the door, he escaped into the night, eager to follow the mysterious enigma that was trying to avoid being seen.

Although hard to see in the dark, Jowan made out a small shadowy figure up ahead precariously climbing over some rocks at the base of the keep. The mage remained concealed and after the figure planted their feet onto the icy surface below, Jowan slowly crept onto the rocks, following at a distance.

Jowan was growing increasingly suspicious, for the figure appeared to be a dwarf and there were few about in Skyhold. Perhaps this one was a spy from Orzammar? Or from Orlais? His head began to conjure wild tales of who it might be until he heard the soft tune being sung in the distance…by a child.

‘For crying out loud.’ muttered Jowan. The mage realised the escapee was nothing but a mischievous child probably out to perform some silly dare encouraged by his silly friends. Turning around, Jowan was ready to return to his book by the fireside but he knew it was not safe to be out here at night. It was especially not safe for a child. Following after the figure, Jowan hastened his pace to catch up.

The child was far ahead now, skipping along the ice path under the light of the full moon. However Jowan knew what the child appeared not to, that this was no simple path of ice. It was in fact the beginning of the largest water source in Ferelden, which branched into the three of the largest rivers on the mainland and provided Ferelden with the majority of their fresh water. The Three Archers River. Although frozen at this time of year, it was unwise to cross it for the waters ran deep and there were pockets in the riverbed that often sucked folk under and were never seen again.

‘You there, stop!!!’ shouted out Jowan, waving his arms ‘Get off the river! It’s not safe! Hello there, can you hear me!?’

The child appeared not to have heard and continued to skip along, blissfully unaware until it was too late.

CRRRRRAAAACKKK!

A loud groan sounded from the ice up ahead, and with terror Jowan watched on as he saw the small child suddenly fall through the ice. A small scream echoed before the silence of night returned once more.

****

Furiously Cullen marched across the battlements, seething with rage. He kicked the stone of the parapets several times with his steel capped boot before unsheathing his long sword and hacking at the stone angrily. Finally he spared his blade the abuse and continued to prowl the stone walls. Busting through one of the decrepit abandoned rooms along the battlements, Cullen stopped to punch a tilted wooden wardrobe and kick over several empty green wine bottles. Glass, dust and splinters showered the room as he marched onwards, finally leaning out towards the distance, gnashing his teeth together in a muffled roar across the plain.

Blood pumped angrily in his veins and all he wanted was to punch Alistair into a pulp. The fool king had succeeded in keeping Cullen and Ophelia apart forever. He had forced her to marry him. And now Alistair was going to force Ophelia to have his child. And there was nothing Cullen could do about it.

‘I can do something about it tonight.’ growled Cullen ‘Fuck the king, I’ll have his guts for my bootlaces if he thinks he can do whatever he wants to Ophelia.’

Not caring what the consequences would be, Cullen was about to turn and head for the king’s chambers when he heard a muffled scream of a child coming from the outside walls directly below him. Cullen peered down into the darkness, unable to see anything from up so high.

‘Is anyone down there?!!’ he yelled out, leaning further over the parapet. Yet no answer called back. There was nothing but the eerie silence of a typical night in the Frostback Mountains.

With a frown Cullen turned his heel, retreating from the battlements.

****

Tripping over snow and gravel, Jowan bolted towards where the child had fallen through the ice, and there Kieran was, frantically pulling at the sides of the ice. 

‘Help me!!’ screamed Kieran, coughing and floundering in the water as he struggled to grab the slippery side of the ice.

Jowan knew the ice was weak and he had to be very careful lest he fall in as well. His dark eyes darted around him, urgently searching for a branch to use but the area was barren.

‘Help me!!!’ screamed Kieran again, flaying his limbs in the icy water. He screamed again, spluttering as he desperately tried to gasp for air.

Knowing there was no time to delay, Jowan hit the ground and slid forward on his belly towards the hole in the ice. Extending his arm, he reached for the child.

‘Kieran take my hand!’ Jowan yelled, grasping for the child.

The water was cold and slippery, and Kieran desperately tried to grab Jowan’s hand. His finger’s barely met, touching the mage’s hand briefly but he was unable to get a firm grip and his head fell beneath the water. Overcome with terror, the boy was pounding the sheet desperately as he slipped under the ice sheet.

‘No!!!’ shouted Jowan, sliding further towards the hole until he was bending over the water.

Fear overcame the mage but he knew there was no time to entertain it. Jowan flung himself into the water, diving into the coldness and reaching desperately beneath the water. The icy water was as painful as a thousand daggers being lodged into his brain, and his body screamed in torment. The human body was not supposed to endure such temperatures. The shock of such coldness stole the breath entirely from his lungs, and his mind was unable to think clearly.

Jowan’s eyes darted in the water, desperately searching for some sign of Kieran. A blurry figure passed in his periphery, and there trapped under the ice was the motionless floating body of a child. Jowan grabbed the boy’s leg and pulled him back to the opening of the hole. With all the strength he could muster, Jowan heaved the boy up and over onto the icy surface of the river.

Lungs burning with pain, Jowan desperately tried to reach out and pull himself up but he was too exhausted from all the exertion. His fingers weakly pawed at the edge of the hole but his vision started to blur. Unable to hang on he let go, fading away into the icy waters beneath.


	102. The Three Crowns

A heavy rumble behind a foreboding grey sky sounded across the still field, growling with low thunder as glimpses of lightning flashed between dark clouds. Pattering onto the ripped soil and mud of a ravaged terrain, the soft drizzle of rain began to fall on the savage remnants of a battle. Bloodied corpses covered the ground like a macabre carpet of death, red streaked and covered in filth, their lives fallen to a bitter end in the vicious brutality that echoed now in the field.

Jowan stood in the middle of the battleground. The only man alive in this bitter place of annihilation.

At his feet a shredded banner lay; a scrap of tattered filthy cotton flecked with blood. A banner with three golden crowns. They represented the three feuding rulers that fought over this land, all determined to reign no matter the cost. The realm was at war once more and kinsman fought against kinsman, brother against brother, and neighbour against neighbour. Thedas was torn, bound together only in hard-fought conflict that never ceased.

A raven cawed and Jowan jumped at the shrill sound disturbing the haunting silence. In the distance he saw a man on a black horse watching on from afar. With long curly black hair, dark brown eyes and a crown of gold on his head, the man sat tall on his steed and looked out across the field.

‘Hail King Valahorn!’ screeched the raven, flapping its black wings violently.

Another raven cawed, and Jowan turned to see on the opposite side of the battlefield sat another man on a brown horse. This man had long brown braided hair and a beard, golden brown eyes and was also wearing a gold crown.

‘Hail King Kieran!’ screeched the raven, snapping its sharp beak furiously.

The sound of yet another raven cawed behind Jowan, and he turned once more, this time seeing a woman sitting on a white horse. This woman had long brown hair plaited back, green eyes, and wore a gold crown.

‘Hail Queen Caerwyn.’ screeched the raven, scratching the dirt viciously with its claws.

The three birds flapped their wings and flew around the battlefield before settling onto the corpses, eager to feast on the dead. Ripping at the wounded flesh and pecking hungrily at the eyes, the savage aftermath of an already gruesome end was too much for the mage to witness. Jowan turned away from the bloody sight.

The three rulers continued to watch silently from afar, their faces unmoved by the morbid sight before them. Another battle had been fought and death was once again their familiar companion…

A faint sound of a sword plunging into the cracking ice made him jolt from his dormancy and his dark eyes blinked open in panic in the freezing water. Bubbles and ice shifted through the cold murkiness and his lungs screamed from the lack of air, ready to burst at any moment. The mage thrashed about in distress, consumed by the horror of his reality as his body held on desperately to what little life it had left.

A strong hand plunged into the water and grasped at his body before several other firm hands wrapped around his limp frame. Jowan felt himself being wrenched from the river like a wet puppet, his head fallen and his limbs dangling. Hastily the men dragged his lifeless body away from the river.

‘Is he dead?’ asked a muffled voice in concern.

Several voices blurred together, the words unintelligible but the tone resonating with definite alarm. Uneasiness and uncertainty. Fear.

Jowan felt himself being thrown onto his side in the snow, his cheek numb from the cold beneath it as he felt the pain of a sharp hand slapping at his back several times over. He was too tired to respond, even when the yelling of a man in his ear told him to wake up.

Let me sleep…

Suddenly a violent spurting of clear liquid erupted from his mouth as his lungs heaved and a coarse cough forced him to expel the unwanted river water. His body convulsed as he felt his insides erupt, a stream of water evacuating as his coughed uncontrollably. With vigorous intent, Jowan inhaled deeply and hoarsely wheezed as the life return to his body.

‘There we go, good lad get it out.’ encouraged another voice, pulling Jowan to his knees ‘Nice and slowly now.’

Eyes still held shut, the mage felt himself being wrapped in a rough woollen cloak and hoisted up once more by several arms, who then began to carry him along in the dark.

‘Run ahead and get two lukewarm baths ready immediately.’ ordered a stern voice that sounded like Commander Cullen. ‘Don’t make it too hot or they’re going to go into shock. Get the fires lit in the barracks study and make the room as warm as you can. Quick man, go!’

Jowan desperately tried to keep his blurry eyes open.

You have to stay awake. Stay awake…

‘Commander he’s out cold.’ called out a soldier ‘He doesn’t look so good.’

‘Hurry now to the keep.’ ordered Cullen ‘Hold your prayers to the Maker, they won’t be meeting him tonight if I can help it.’

****

The watchman posted that night on the entrance side of the keep was a young man from Ferelden named Daniel. Daniel had decided to stay on at Skyhold after the end of the Inquisition and enjoy the uneventful duty of the cold southern watch rather than return to his family hog farm on the edge of the Brecilian Forest. Settling in for another uneventful post, Daniel wasn’t too concerned as to what lingered outside the keep at this late hour. Ever since the end of the war with Corypheus there had been no fear of red templars storming Skyhold in the dead of night. Nor was there any fear of the Venatori lurking in the shadows with an ever watchful eye. In fact there was nothing much to fear at this time of year in these parts. With the weather getting warmer the wolves weren’t as hungry as in the colder months, now finding plenty of game to feed on in the forest, and therefore even they stayed away from the keep. There was no cause for bandits to venture so high up the mountain, for the only traffic was the occasional merchant and traveller going to and from Skyhold. So Daniel knew there was no reason to be concerned in the slightest, apart from what was going to be served in the main hall for breakfast in a few hours.

Warming his hands beside the fire, Daniel was surprised to see several soldiers approaching from outside the keep, frantically yelling to the gatemen. He had seen the same soldiers depart Skyhold only recently with Commander Cullen, heading to the eastern side of the fortress, now only to return in a somewhat urgent manner. The soldiers appeared to be carrying the lifeless body of an adult, and not too far behind was Commander Cullen, carrying the limp body of what looked like a child.

Daniel watched on in concern as the group hurriedly entered into the keep, leaving him to his watch duty once more. Lifting his pale eyes to the horizon he frowned, noticing the sun had begun to rise in a crimson red sky.


	103. Relief and Sorrow

Word spread like wildfire over breakfast that morning in the main hall that Jowan and Kieran had fallen into The Three Archers River. Some people claimed they had died, while others swore they were alive, and some even believed they had not fallen into a river at all but instead had been attacked by secret agents of Corypheus. It was all speculation for no one really knew what had happened. The pair had been taken and locked away in the barracks for hours now, and no one had been allowed to approach as the guards that stood watch.

In Commander Cullen’s office the fires were now burning strongly. Thanks to a knowledgeable Commander who knew how to treat those who had suffered the shock of falling through the ice, Jowan and Kieran’s body temperatures had been brought back to normal in the warm baths. Now wrapped in fresh clothing and blankets, they sat by the fire, pale and weak but nevertheless alive as they continued to heat themselves by the glowing embers. 

‘We had a templar once fall into the ice in Danesbridge.’ informed Cullen gravely, sitting beside Jowan and Kieran by the fire. ‘It was when I was Knight Captain in Kirkwall. We found out three of our charges had escaped from The Gallows. One of their friends confessed and told us where they went and I had the splendid duty of retrieving them. So a group of my templars and I travelled to Danesbridge, this icy abandoned plains on the outskirts of Orlais.’. Cullen shook his head, looking heavy hearted. ‘Maker help us it was cold. None of us were accustomed to that climate. We were all from Ferelden and the Free Marches, never so much broke into a chill let alone found ourselves trudging in actual snow. The mage that confessed led us to this barren ice plain and we made our way along the sheet, none the wiser that we were walking on a frozen lake. One of my templars, Lawson Tarnish, was walking up ahead of us when the ice cracked and he fell through. In full steel plate armour he didn’t stand a chance, the poor man sunk like a stone.’. The Commander sighed dejectedly. ‘Couldn’t do a blasted thing about it, you have no idea how heavy armour like that is. A man knocked down in battle struggles to get back up, and usually never does. You can imagine what being immersed in water is like? Anyway the mage who was showing us where his escaped friends were tried to help Lawson. He was the only one in the party not wearing armour so he was able to jump into the water. I have to give the man credit, he risked his life to save a templar and nearly died himself. I managed to disarmour and get there in time to pull the mage out of the water, but he had been exposed to the icy temperature and was in bad shape. The mages we were trying to find saw the whole thing and revealed themselves to us. They took us back to their hut and put the mage in a tub and warmed him back to normal. They saved their friend. Mind you, it didn’t bring Lawson back at the end of the day.’

Jowan was as pale as a ghost and hadn’t said one word since he had returned to the keep. An ill-fitting soldier’s tunic and baggy pants hung off his frame, and a grey blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders. Jowan stared into the fire and remained quiet beside Kieran, who also was also wearing baggy soldier garments and wrapped heavily in a thick blanket. The child was shaken but fine, cradling a cup of warm tea in his hands. He took a sip before turning to the Commander.

‘What happened to the mages, Commander?’ asked Kieran.

Cullen looked up in surprise, as if that was the least of his concerns. ‘Well naturally we took them back to Kirkwall and they were ex-’

Jowan’s eyes suddenly shifted to Cullen’s, holding them in a warning glance.

Cullen caught himself before he finished the sentence.

‘Commander Cullen?’ frowned Kieran.

‘They were returned to their chambers at The Gallows in Kirkwall.’ lied Cullen with a short nod.

A loud ruckus could be heard outside, with several men arguing with a woman. The guards could be heard saying several times we have our orders, only for a more heated woman’s voice to reply angrily each time. More yelling occurred and suddenly the door to Cullen’s office flung open and Morrigan appeared, wild haired and desperately concerned. She spotted Kieran by the fire and rushed at him, wrapping her arms around the boy.

‘Kieran.’ she cried out in relief, holding him tight as she fell to her knees. Her face crushed into his neck and her eyes drew shut, overwhelmed with relief that she was holding her child alive and breathing.

‘Mother,’ sobbed Kieran into his mother’s embrace ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.’

‘Are you hurt?’ asked Morrigan, running her eyes up and down the child. Her fingers traced along his face, as if trying to sense if there was damage. Finally she turned to Jowan, shaking her head in confusion. ‘What happened? I’ve been hopelessly searching Skyhold for hours when I discovered Kieran missing from our chambers. I must have scoured every inch of this execrable clutter keep’. Morrigan flashed an angry look to the Commander. ‘One of your fool guards came across my path and casually informed me Kieran was here and had been drowned. What a thing to say to someone. You should have him thrown in the stocks for a week lest I take retribution into my own hands.’

Cullen frowned. ‘Morrigan I apologise, some of my soldiers are not the most empathetic of men. My attention was focused on treating the pair from exposure. In hindsight I should have sent word to you of what had happened to your son.’

Morrigan waved her hand. ‘That is unnecessary when it is apparent it is I who should be thanking you.’. She ran a concerned hand through Kieran’s brown hair. ‘What happened, my dove? What made you run away in the middle of the night?’

Cullen looked to Jowan who remained deathly quiet. ‘Although I’m uncertain to the exact circumstances, I believe Kieran fell through the ice into The Three Archer’s River just outside the keep.’

‘Outside the keep?’ remarked Morrigan in surprise. She looked at Kieran with a frown. ‘Why in the world were you outside the keep in the river?’

Tears spilled from his brown eyes and Kieran wiped them away with the palm of his hand. ‘I’m….I’m so terribly sorry mother.’ he sniffled ‘I wanted to give father a present before he left. I didn’t want him to leave for Denerim without something to remember me by. There is a place in the woods where I keep my treasures. I only wanted to give father a locket that I had kept there.’

The cold glint in Morrigan’s eye and tightness of her forced smile revealed a well concealed but evident fury that she felt upon hearing this from her son. Morrigan held the boy closer, kissing him on the head. ‘Such a silly thing to do.’ she replied rigidly ‘But you are alive, that is all that matters.’

Kieran nodded, wiping away more tears. ‘I-I nearly didn’t though. I f-f-fell through the ice and became trapped underneath it. Oh mother, I was so scared. There was no way to escape.’

‘How did you get out?’ asked Morrigan, her expression revealing relief and horror upon learning what had happened.

Kieran pointed over to Jowan, who was staring into the flames. ‘Jowan jumped into the water and pushed me up onto the ice once more. He saved me.’

Morrigan’s attention shifted to the mage, a look of deep gratitude now on her face. ‘Jowan…I owe you a debt I can never repay.’ she confessed ‘You saved my son. Thank you.’

Jowan nodded but said nothing, his eyes fixated on the fire before him.

The Commander frowned, noticing the mage was struggling internally with what had happened to him. ‘Jowan has been through quite an ordeal.’ explained Cullen to Morrigan ‘When I arrived he was unconscious in the water, trapped under the sheet the ice. We could not say how long he had been there, or even how it is that he remained alive. To stay in that water for more than a few minutes would surely have been the death of the average man. Perhaps we should give him some more time to himself?’

‘I would be happy to help in any way possible, my magic is very good at healing.’ offered Morrigan, looking over to Jowan. She stood up and approached the mage, gently kneeling beside him and placing a genuine hand on his blanketed knee. ‘If there is anything I can do to help, I am here for you. What you have done for Kieran if something I will never forget.’

Jowan nodded his head, throwing her little recognition before turning back to the flames. ‘Thank you but I am fine.’ he murmured.

More shouting and arguing sounded from outside, the muffled bluster of men cursing and yelling at each other from the other side of the wood. A loud bang of knocking sounded on the door and Cullen sighed, turning to the entrance of the room.

‘Maker help me, I would have thought we’d have had enough drama for one morning.’ Cullen muttered, reaching for the doorknob. The banging sounded again, louder than before. ‘Did I not say I wanted no disturbances?!!’ he barked, wrenching the door open.

Standing there, wide eyed and fearful, was Alistair Theirin. He looked to Cullen not with anger but with concern, coming to the Commander’s room as a parent and not an enemy.

‘Is he alive?’ asked Alistair fearfully ‘Cullen you must tell me, where is my son?’

Cullen glared at the king sternly, before realising Alistair had not come here to quarrel with him. Stepping aside, the Commander permitted the man to enter the room. ‘He’s fine. Kieran is perfectly well,’ replied Cullen ‘as you can see yourself.’

Casting his brown eyes around the room, Alistair spotted the boy beside Morrigan. Kieran’s face grew brighter upon seeing Alistair, and Alistair’s face revealed a look of pure relief.

‘Kieran!’ exclaimed Alistair emotionally.

Without a second thought the king rushed over and embraced his son, and Kieran hugged him back affectionately. It was the first time the pair had embraced and Morrigan eyed the act with vehemence. Alistair finally pulled away from the hug and turned to smile at Morrigan. Instantly her face changed to one of piety.

‘What is going on?’ asked Alistair ‘Are you alright Kieran? Maker I was so worried when I heard. Thank the guardsman who told me, I was already saddled on my horse ready to depart Skyhold when I found out you had been pulled out of the river!? How did you end up in there of all places?’

Kieran looked down miserably to his feet. ‘I wanted you to have a silver locket of mine that I kept hidden in the woods.’ he replied ‘I’m so sorry father, I never managed to retrieve it for you and soon you will be leaving here.’

‘That is hardly something you should be worrying about after all that has happened.’ pointed out Morrigan in slight annoyance. ‘Your life is not worth risking for such a silly gesture.’

Alistair shook his head in disbelief, fondly running an affectionate hand through the boy’s hair. ‘Your mother is right, Kieran. All we want is for you to be safe, alive and happy. Please promise me you’ll never run away again. The Frostback Mountains is not a safe place to be wandering about.’

‘Of course he won’t do it again.’ replied Morrigan in irritation ‘Now he knows it was a foolish thing to risk his life for such an ill-considered sentiment.’

‘His heart was in the right place.’ replied Alistair, coming to the defence of his son.

Kieran smiled at Alistair, pleased at the novelty of having someone stand up for him to his own mother. ‘Father I just wanted you to have something that was mine. I didn’t know when you would come back from Denerim and I wanted you to come see me again as soon as you could.’

Alistair was touched by the sentiment. He smiled at the boy, shaking his head. ‘Kieran there is nothing that you could give me that I would hold dear for I already hold you deepest in my heart.’

Kieran wrapped his hands around the king’s waist and held him tight, and Alistair placed a fond hand on his sons head.

‘You risked your life to bring me locket and now I’d like to repay the favour and ask you to come visit me Denerim.’ remarked Alistair gently, holding his son tight. He turned to Morrigan with an encouraging smile. ‘I’d love to have you and your mother come stay with me for a few days at the palace. You’d both be my greatest guests of honour. There is a sweet shop in the market square that sells the best bullseyes in all of Thedas. And chocolate coins. I can take you there.’. Alistair winked at Kieran, adding playfully ‘They always give extra treats to the king and all his friends.’

Kieran clapped his hands in delight, turning to his mother. ‘Oh please please Mother, can we? Please say yes! Can we? Can we go stay with father at his palace? Oh please please please please pleeeeaaaase!!!!!’

Alistair chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm. ‘I think that’s a yes then?’

Morrigan shifted uneasily in her seat, a polite smile on her face. ‘Kieran my love, we can discuss all this later. Now you need rest. Come, I shall take you to bed immediately.’

‘But can’t we-’ begun Kieran.

The witch lifted her hand sharply. ‘We can discuss this later. After your terrible accident all I can think about is getting you to bed.’

‘I’m not tired.’ protested Kieran ‘Jowan doesn’t have to go to bed so I don’t see why I have to.’

Morrigan’s eyes lingered to the silent Jowan, still blankly staring into the flames. She hesitated, her mind lingering on other pressing matters. ‘Kieran my love, perhaps Alistair can walk you back to your chambers and you can talk to him a while longer.’ suggested Morrigan, turning to the king. ‘I will be up shortly, but first there is something I must speak to Jowan about.’

‘It would be my honour.’ declared Alistair, standing up. Moving his hand to the door, he smiled to the boy. ‘Come on Kieran, I have to tell you about all the wonderful places I can show you in Denerim when you come visit. By any chance do you like toy shops?’

Kieran looked to Alistair with a wide grin, and the king returned the similar goofy expression. Like father, like son. The pair left the room, already lost in chatter before they’d even placed a foot outside the barracks.

As the door closed, Morrigan turned back to the men in the room. Cullen was busy writing in the log book at his desk, perhaps more eager to lose himself in his work while Alistair entertained the room. The Commander looked up to see the witch staring at him. His amber eyes darted to Jowan and then back to Morrigan, somewhat surprised that she had remained behind whilst everyone else had departed.

‘If you need some privacy I can do this later?’ informed Cullen, closing the heavy leather bound log book. ‘Maker knows these entries are more tedious than even I care to entertain at this time of day.’

‘No I would wish you to stay.’ answered Morrigan swiftly ‘There is something that you both must hear.’. She moved to the fire and sat beside Jowan, casting a nervous eye to the quiet mage. ‘I was never good with being heartfelt,’ confessed Morrigan ‘or expressing gratitude in the traditional manner. You must know that what you have done for me this night means more than you could ever know. Jowan if you had not been there when you had this unfortunate incident could have turned into a tragedy that would have destroyed me. You have my thanks and eternal gratitude, my friend.’

The mage nodded, casting his eyes to Morrigan before looking back into the flames. ‘You are welcome.’

‘Jowan how did you come to find Kieran?’ asked Cullen curiously, joining the pair by the fire. He raised his hands to the warmth and rubbed them briskly, as if even he could not shake off the chill of the ice from the night before.

The mage stirred from his meditative silence, his eyelashes blinking several times as his eyes took in his surroundings perhaps for the first time. ‘I noticed the escape passage from the mages tower was open.’ replied Jowan quietly ‘I went through it and saw a figure up ahead. At first I thought it was a spy, but it turned out to be Kieran. So I tried to stop him from walking on the frozen riverbed but he couldn’t hear me.’. The mage dragged his hands through his dark hair, as if reliving the moment tormented him. ‘He fell through the ice….it happened so fast. I saw it play out before me so slowly and yet it happened so fast and there was no time.’

Cullen sighed, shaking his head. ‘That is exactly how it felt when I saw Lawson fall through the ice. Thank the Maker you were there Jowan. That boy didn’t stand a chance if you hadn’t.’

‘As I didn’t stand a chance had you not pulled me out when you did.’ replied Jowan, looking up at the Commander in gratitude. ‘Cullen I owe you my life.’

The Commander waved his hand. ‘Don’t mention it. I recall you saving mine not too long ago, now we’re even.’

Morrigan turned to Cullen, her head tilting curiously. ‘I suppose if you had not come along, Kieran would have remained on the ice until someone found him?’ observed Morrigan quietly, looking to the Commander seriously. ‘Perhaps no one would have found him in time and he would have died also?’

Cullen shrugged. ‘Like Jowan, I was merely at the right place at the right time. I heard what sounded like a child cry out from down below the battlements and felt it imperative to investigate immediately.’

Morrigan nodded, her eyes falling to the flames before her. ‘I have grown to learn there is no such thing as merely being in the right place at the right time. For whatever reason, you were meant to have come and saved them both, and for that I am full of gratitude.’

Morrigan looked from man to man, her expression remaining painfully serious. ‘What you have done for me I do not take lightly. I do not think I can repay such an act but I can offer you something else.’

‘No reward is necessary.’ dismissed Cullen ‘A good deed requires no coin.’

The witch shook her head. ‘I don’t offer money, I offer something far more valuable. Information. Information that has been kept from you both.’

Jowan’s interest was piqued and Cullen’s amber eyes narrowed, both men turning to her.

‘Information? What information?’ frowned Cullen.

The witch drew closer to the fire, as if an iciness came over her that had nothing to do with the weather. ‘This is not going to be easy to hear.’ she warned ‘And believe me when I say telling you this does me no favours. In fact after you learn of what I have to say, my life and my son’s will be in danger. Nevertheless, I owe you both a great debt for what you have done for Kieran and so I shall give you this information that has been withheld from you both. Do with it as you wish. Just know despite your opinion of me upon learning this, also remember were it not for me you would have been none the wiser.’

Jowan and Cullen remained uneasily silent, waiting for Morrigan to explain.

‘For the love of the Maker, what is it?’ asked Cullen, drawing closer to sit on a chair by the fire.

‘As you are both well aware I am the keeper of powerful and ancient magic.’ informed Morrigan calmly ‘Kieran was the result of a fertility spell that I performed with Alistair. It was intended all those years ago that we would conceive a child, and as you see that child was conceived.’

Cullen crossed his arms, apparently unimpressed. ‘Yes, Leliana did mention some of this to me before you arrived at Skyhold. She said that you and Alistair conceived a child that would possess the soul of the archdemon from the Blight. My question is, why?’

Jowan stirred in surprise. ‘Kieran has the soul of an archdemon?’. Looking to Morrigan apprehensively, she shook her head silently to him, as if urging him to not speak further on the matter while Cullen was with them.

‘Our reasons for doing so are irrelevant. Just know, that is what happened.’ answered Morrigan. ‘Leliana knew of what had occurred between Alistair and I on that night. She knew that I had cast magic to conceive Kieran. So when I arrived at Skyhold you can imagine my surprise when she came to me and specifically asked that I perform the same spell on her. In Lydes, at Monte-Gaudin Manor. On the night of the dinner with Ser Gavin and Lady Mirabelle Laurent.’

Jowan’s dark eyes darted to the witch, fearfully wide and filled with disbelief. ‘It can’t be.’ he whispered.

Morrigan nodded silently, finally confirming what Jowan had suspected was the truth for quite some time.

Cullen shook his head, apparently none the wiser to what Morrigan was implying. ‘Have I missed something here? Of what trip are you talking about?’ he asked ‘Leliana went off to Orlais and asked you to do a spell?’

‘I believe Morrigan is referring to the trip when she, Leliana and I went to Lydes earlier this year.’ observed Jowan. He paused, looking to Cullen apprehensively. ‘You were not there Cullen.’

‘Who was there?’ frowned Cullen, glaring at the mage ‘Why would Leliana want to conceive a child in Lydes? And with who?’

‘That night Leliana used the aid of my magic to seduce Jowan.’ explained Morrigan promptly, looking over to the mage who was slinking lower in his seat at the mention of his name. ‘Leliana became pregnant that night by Jowan.’

‘She what?!!’ blurted out Cullen. The Commander almost jumped in his seat from shock, turning to Jowan with a look of anger that could have killed. ‘What is Morrigan talking about, Jowan? What the fuck are you playing at here?’

Jowan slunk further in his seat, lifting a distressed hand to his temple. ‘Please Cullen just listen to her.’ he muttered ‘It’s a misunderstanding. I had nothing to do with it.’

Cullen began laughing. ‘Oh Maker help you when I am done with you.’. He threw a dirty look to the witch ‘Fine, explain to me how this misunderstanding took place?’

‘As I was saying,’ continued Morrigan crisply ‘Leliana used magic provided by me to seduce Jowan. Magic to make Jowan desire Leliana. To lay with Leliana. They slept together that night and without Jowan’s knowledge a child was conceived, again by my aid as requested by Leliana. Leliana made me swear I would never tell a soul, for it was her intention to conceive a child with Jowan but to stay with you Cullen, and to convince you that you were the real father. Let me tell you now, without a shadow of a doubt, that Valahorn is the child of Jowan and Leliana.’

Cullen stood up abruptly, utterly speechless. At first he cupped his head in his palms, looking down at the ground as he paced the room. Shaking his head, attempting to process the facts appeared too difficult for the templar. He looked angrily at Jowan, but then realised by the dejected look on the mage’s face that Jowan was not the trickster here. Leliana was.

‘Are you saying Leliana deceived me on purpose?’ Cullen asked, his voice filled with fury. He shook his head again fiercely. ‘No. She wouldn’t do that. Not with something like this.’

‘You know that she would.’ replied Jowan darkly.

Cullen turned to Morrigan, taking her by surprise as he knelt down before her. She looked at him and his eyes filled with deep anguish.

‘Tell me the truth Morrigan, once and for all.’ appealed Cullen ‘Is Valahorn my son?’

‘Valahorn is not your son.’ replied Morrigan, a hint of remorse in her voice ‘The child was not born a month late as Leliana would have led you to believe. Valahorn arrived at the right time, just as any other child.’. The witch looked to the mage beside her. ‘Valahorn is the son of Jowan.’

Jowan’s dark eyes darted to the witch, stunned upon hearing the actual words spoken out loud. ‘My child.’ he whispered to himself ‘But…but why did she want my child?’. He straightened up in his chair and looked seriously at the witch. ‘Morrigan, why did Leliana want my child? Why not Cullen’s’

Morrigan’s attention fell back to Cullen who remained before her, appearing eager for an answer. ‘I fear this may be hard for you to hear.’ she warned.

‘Tell me.’ ordered Cullen darkly ‘Maker curse her, I must know everything and I must know it now.’

‘Leliana was carrying your child.’ informed Morrigan ‘However upon learning of Jowan’s surname, her visions from the Maker appeared to have come into a more logical light.’. The witch pursed her lips in judgement, apparently a disbeliever of Leliana’s visions.

‘MacLothlorian?’ frowned Jowan ‘What does my surname have to do with her visions?’

Morrigan rolled her eyes. ‘Jowan you must understand Leliana is delusional. She picks apart details to suit the silly story in her head. She told me MacLothlorian means the White Rose, and in her visions the white rose has been ever present since her time in Lothering.’

‘Yes but the brothers at the Chantry gave me that name.’ replied Jowan, appearing confused ‘It wasn’t my real surname. They only gave it to me because I spent all my time tending to the white roses in the garden. My knack for gardening landed me with the name MacLothlorian. There was no holy reason behind it, just that the old Ferelden word in the Fjorden tongue was MacLothlorian, meaning the white rose. I didn’t have a family name when I arrived at the chantry. Hence why the brothers thought it fitting to bestow one on me.’

‘Maker’s breath, talk about clutching at strings.’ scoffed Cullen in disgust, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘She’s insane. Absolutely fucking insane.’

Morrigan looked as if she wholeheartedly agreed. ‘When Jowan and Leliana were resurrected by the Maker, she wondered why this had happened? Why had you both been resurrected? However upon learning about the meaning of Jowan’s real name, Leliana was convinced that the Maker had saved both of you to create the Maker’s chosen. Cullen was not the intended father as she had originally thought.’. The witch paused, throwing an apologetic look to the Commander. ‘She made this grand revelation when she was already carrying Cullen’s unborn child. So Leliana aborted the child and set out to have one with you instead.’

His frame widened and Cullen’s amber eyes blazed with fury upon learning of the cruel act. His mouth opened but there were no words. Cullen turned to Jowan, who also appeared gobsmacked.

‘’Tis a cruel reality to face, I am sorry for you both.’ sympathised Morrigan.

‘Leliana murdered my child?’ whispered Cullen fiercely ‘My child? My own flesh and blood? She murdered my child in order to have Jowan’s child? Is that what you are telling me?’

‘Yes.’ affirmed Morrigan.

‘Was she ever going to tell either of us?’ asked Jowan, growing angry himself. ‘If she believed I was the Maker’s Chosen father, did she not think the Maker would have wanted me to be a part of the child’s life? To know that I was the father?’

The frown on Morrigan’s brow showed the men she was struggling to find the most diplomatic words to answer with. ‘In my opinion, Leliana considered you a means to an end and nothing more.’ answered Morrigan.

Cullen scoffed, shaking his head in complete disgust. ‘That fucking whore. Maker be hanged if this is his divine work.’

Morrigan shook her head. ‘Leliana believes what she wants to believe. Something or someone did resurrect both Leliana and Jowan, but I highly doubt it is the Maker’s doing.’. The witch appeared troubled. ‘There are many secrets in the world and I would know them all. So naturally it unsettles me when there are things I cannot explain, for there is a reason behind everything. Leliana has been killed twice. And she has risen…twice. Have neither have you asked yourself who was behind such a miracle?’

‘The Maker of course.’ shrugged Cullen.

Jowan did not look as convinced as his companion. ‘Morrigan has a point.’ he remarked ‘I’ve often wondered how any of us can claim that it was the Maker without any actual proof.’

‘Didn’t the Maker resurrect you also?’ observed Cullen dryly ‘How much proof do you need? A mass resurrection?’

The mage shifted uncomfortably as he recalled the moment that he had been trying to forget ever since it had happened. ‘Sierra cast a fireball at Leliana when we arrived at the shores of the Waking Sea. Leliana appeared almost possessed at the time. She was powerful, and could control magic. We all know she is no mage. Yet she had magic in her control. It felt…dark. Leliana turned Sierra’s fireball onto me, and I was burned alive.’. Jowan shivered, pulling the blanker tighter across his shoulders. ‘I fell into darkness and then I opened my eyes in the salty waters of the Waking Sea. The Maker never spoke to me or revealed himself to me in any shape or form. Whatever it was, all it wanted was for me to be alive and back in my original form. That is all I know.’

‘Original form?’ echoed Morrigan, shaking her head in confusion ‘What do you mean by that?’

Cullen threw a disproving glare at the mage. Jowan turned to the witch, ignoring the judgement of his companion. ‘In former days I made the decision to take the body of another, of an Orlesian noble by the name of Athalwolf Guildersleeve.’

Morrigan was unconvinced. ‘You shape shifted into another human? ‘Tis impossible.’

‘Not shape shifting exactly.’ replied Jowan ‘Think of it as wearing someone else’s clothes without a way of ever taking them off. A variation of what the demons like to do. I murdered Athalwolf before taking his…shell.’

Morrigan appeared intrigued more than anything else. She leaned closer, interested to learn more. ‘You have a spell to do this then? So when Leliana murdered you, you were-?’

‘Still Athalwolf, yes.’ affirmed Jowan

‘So whatever resurrected you wanted you to return as Jowan.’ frowned Morrigan ‘As you are now. And Leliana claims the Maker wanted you and her to conceive a child. The Maker’s chosen.’

Jowan appeared troubled. ‘Something wanted us both alive. I’d rather not think about what it was.’

‘Neither do I.’ added Cullen.

‘Ignorance is bliss and a fool’s natural chosen path.’ shrugged Morrigan ‘Of course none of us should find it disconcerting in the slightest that an entity is playing a mischievous game with the mortals of this world. And hijacking your Divine to conceive some demon spawn that will take over the realm and rule a new era of darkness.’

Jowan drew a deep breath, conflicted internally by something he had not spoken about. ‘Several hours ago I would have agreed with you, but now I’m torn. When I died by the Waking Sea, I had a vision. I spoke of it to Cullen and Leliana.’. He looked to the Commander. ‘Do you remember?’

Cullen rubbed his jaw with a frown, trying to recollect the moment. ‘I confess my mind was somewhat preoccupied at the time. Didn’t you say something about being on a battlefield?’

Jowan nodded. ‘I was on a battlefield in the bloody aftermath, and a banner lay at my feet with three crowns. The vision returned to me again, just now, when I was unconscious in the water. Except this time the three crowns were revealed to me. It was a vision clearer to me that reality itself.’

‘What three crowns?’ asked Morrigan and Cullen at the same time.

Jowan pointed to his left. ‘To the west there was a man with black hair and a crown. A crow called out and said ‘Hail King Valahorn.’.

Cullen looked to the mage sharply, a frown on his face. ‘Valahorn?’

Jowan pointed to his right, continuing on. ‘To the east there was a man with brown hair and a crown. A crow spoke and said ‘Hail King Kieran.’

Morrigan’s golden brown eyes flashed to the mage. ‘My son was in your vision? As a king?’. She appeared extremely concerned, her brown creasing heavily.

Jowan nodded. He then pointed behind him. ‘To the south there was a woman with brown hair and a crown. The crow spoke and said ‘Hail Queen Caerwyn.’

‘Who is that?’ asked Morrigan.

Jowan shook his head. ‘I do not know. But I know this. It was a vision and whoever is sending this message to me, be it Maker or whatever else, they were warning me of what will come in days ahead. The years before us will not be reigned by peace. War is coming and there will be a battle of kings and queens unlike anything we have ever seen.’

‘Your child and mine will fight for the realm?’ murmured Morrigan, growing more and more displeased. ‘’Tis a fine thing for a mortal to succumb to, but Kieran has an immortal soul. He cannot entertain such games.’

‘If Leliana has her way, she would relish Valahorn acting out such a role.’ warned Jowan ‘I cannot allow Valahorn to become this ruler of death.’

Cullen appeared deep in thought, contemplating the situation as a Commander in an army would. ‘If you tell this vision to Leliana she will unleash a war against the realm before Valahorn has even learnt to walk.’ he declared ‘She will take it as a sign that Valahorn is meant to become this blasted king that rules over Thedas.’. He looked to Morrigan seriously. ‘Leliana will seek Kieran’s life more than ever. She will see him as a threat to Valahorn. Maker help us all, she’ll probably order any child with the name Kieran or Caerwyn to be murdered at birth.’

The witch glared icily at the fire. ‘I know her too well to think otherwise.’

‘Then this vision remains with us and us alone.’ reassured Jowan ‘I would not wish to further fuel Leliana’s zealotism. Already Valahorn faces the risk of being raised to become a monster, shaped to Leliana’s destructive will. No. Valahorn is my son and I will protect him for her.’

‘Good luck.’ added Cullen cynically.

‘You only came to realise this now?’ observed Morrigan dryly ‘The pair of you have been in Leliana’s service for quite a while now. Does it take having a son with that crackpot fanatic to finally open your eyes?’

‘I have no son.’ muttered Cullen darkly.

Morrigan and Jowan threw each other a silent look, knowing there was nothing they could possibly say to comfort the man. For nine months Cullen had been led to believe he was a father. He had held Valahorn in his arms with the belief that the child was his son. It was a cruel deception for any man to endure, let alone a man that truly felt love in his heart for a child.

‘I feel a desire to mourn for the loss of a son that I loved more than my very own self and yet here he is alive and healthy.’ observed Cullen dolefully ‘It is a strange reality to endure. It is a sadness that weighs strangely heavy on my heart.’

Jowan looked deeply apologetic. ‘Cullen…you must know this was never my intention. It was not my intention to get involved with Leliana. But I accept responsibility for what has happened.’

Cullen scorned at the mage. ‘Be hurt. Be angry. But do not stand there and take the blame for a woman who arranged to rape you with the help of that witch.’. The Commander glared furiously at Morrigan. ‘How can you sleep at night doing what you do? Did you ever feel even a pang of guilt for what you have done here?’

Morrigan’s lips pursed in annoyance. ‘I sleep very well, thank you for asking.’

‘I knew I was not myself that night in Lydes.’ continued Jowan darkly ‘I should have known. I should have asked myself why? How can you have no feelings for someone and then be completely consumed with them? Curse my idiocy I should have known. But I never thought in a million years that Leliana wanted to have a child with me. Or that that child would lead to such a deception.’

Cullen appeared forlorn as the mage. ‘Jowan I know Leliana all too well to think even for a second that you took advantage of her. She used you, and then she used me. Time and time again that foul ginger harpy only wishes to sink her talons into me.’. The Commander chuckled bitterly, kicking the wooden seat with his boot. ‘And once again I’ve let the fucking wench get the better of me. No, Leliana has used us both most horrendously.’. Scoffing at the witch beside them, Cullen glared angrily at Morrigan. ‘And you? You agreed to help Leliana in this deception.’

‘She offered my son and I protection from the king.’ explained Morrigan shortly ‘In vulnerability we do things perhaps that we would not do otherwise. I choose my battles wisely, but Alistair’s is an impending one that even I cannot fight alone.’

‘You don’t want Alistair taking his son from you?’ frowned Cullen ‘Is that what this is about?’

‘It is. And I do not.’ replied Morrigan bluntly ‘Is that so hard to understand?’.

‘Of course not. After getting to know more and more about Alistair fucking Theirin I can’t say I blame you.’ replied Cullen flatly. ‘Perhaps I can see why you did what you did, but what you have done here Morrigan is disgusting. You will have to stand in the Maker’s judgement at the end of your days and be held accountable.’

Morrigan remained serious yet a hint of a smirk curled on her lip. ‘Believe me when I say I did not relish aiding in Leliana’s seduction. The fact that this addled minded fruitcake got the better of me does not please me. I knew Leliana before any of you and she was deranged from the get go. I should have known she was never going to be good on her word. She has played me the greatest fool of them all.’

‘She has my child, Morrigan.’ retorted Jowan angrily ‘You both played me to be the greatest fool.’

Morrigan bit her tongue and nodded at the observation. ‘I am…I am sorry Jowan. Given what you have done for my son, I feel even more ashamed for playing a part in this now.’

Jowan cursed under his breath. ‘My gut told me there was deceit. I knew the dates of her pregnancy didn’t match up. By the time she had the baby I was suspicious. I looked Leliana straight in the eye and asked if there was a chance I was the father. She swore Cullen was the father. She lied to me. She lied to me.’

‘She lied to all of us.’ muttered Cullen ‘That is what she does.’

Morrigan nodded in agreement. ‘The protection Leliana offered me is non-existent. She has all but withdrawn her reassurance of my son’s safety, and threatened his life if I divulged this murky little secret. It appears this will be our last day at Skyhold.’.

‘You’re leaving?’ exclaimed Jowan in surprise.

‘Did you not just hear Alistair invite Kieran to Denerim?’ scorned Morrigan, crossing her arms in irritation. ‘With golden promises of trips to the sweet shop in the market place, and promises of wonderful toy shops? How long do you think it will be before Alistair insists that Kieran never leaves Denerim? That it will be safer for him to remain under the protection of the palace? For naturally that is the appropriate place for the son of a king, is it not? No. Alistair will not have him. Not now, not ever. If it were not for you both my son would be dead and all that I love in the world would have been taken. So I’ve relieved you both of that secret that would have deceived you until the end of your days. Do with it as you wish, but now I take my leave.’. Morrigan stood from the seat, and turned for the door. ‘I would warn you to think about how you approach Leliana with this new information. She is cunning and will not go down without a fight.’

‘Morrigan I would urge you to think carefully before fleeing into the night.’ warned Cullen. ‘Alistair will not ignore the fact that you have taken his son. He will use his forces to hunt you both down. Emperor Gaspard does not welcome you into Orlais, and soon the King of Ferelden will view you as an enemy. You will be no more safe out there than in here.’

‘Cullen is right.’ agreed Jowan ‘Until we approach Leliana, if we do, you should stay here. Leaving before then will only give cause for unnecessary concern.’

‘I make no promises on what I intend to do from here.’ she replied sternly. With a pair of pursed lips and a short nod, Morrigan departed the room, leaving Jowan and Cullen alone.

The Commander slumped onto the bench before the fire, completely defeated. ‘For nine months I cradled her and my unborn son at night as we drifted to sleep. Leliana handed me Valahorn and introduced him to me as my son. I was willing to sacrifice Ophelia because I knew I had a greater role to play. A greater responsibility. I was determined to be there for my son. But it wasn’t my son, was it? It was yours.’

Whiter than a ghost, Jowan swallowed hard. ‘You have lost a son and I have gained one, but both of us will suffer for it I fear.’

The Commander chuckled bitterly. ‘No wiser words were spoken. That fucking bitch. She robbed me of a son, of my own unborn child, and Ophelia. She’s a siren Jowan, luring men to their doom. Leliana has robbed me of everything that I’ve ever loved. She’ll do the same to you and Kieran. That child will be raised a terror, kept at arm’s length from any affection that you could have hoped to offer. I see that now. I see it and I fear it now more than ever.’

‘A crowned king with blood at his feet, fighting against two other leaders. One of them Morrigan’s son, a man with a soul of an arch demon.’ murmured Jowan, deep in thought. ‘That is not the life I wanted for any child of mine.’

‘The moment Leliana realises we know of the truth she will flee to the Grand Cathedral.’ observed the Commander ‘Once she is behind the full protection of the Chantry there will be no getting to her, or Valahorn. Perhaps it is for the best that she takes the child and leaves forever?’

Jowan looked up irritably. ‘The best for who? For her? For you? It is not in the best interests of Valahorn, or for me. I will never get to know my son. I will live a life knowing that my child is being shaped like clay by the horrid claws of Leliana.’

Cullen sighed, shaking his head. ‘Jowan take it from me, you don’t want Leliana involved in your life. Look at what she is capable of? She killed my own child in her womb. She murdered you by The Waking Sea. The only reason you’re alive here today is because something resurrected you back after she took your life. With lies and deceit and murder Leliana will always get what she wants.’

‘Then all the more reason to fight.’ replied Jowan adamantly ‘I will not let her shape my son into this preordained vessel that she thinks is the Maker’s will.’

‘She is still his mother.’ pointed out Cullen.

‘And I am his father.’ quipped Jowan ‘Do not underestimate my interest in this child. I would sacrifice my very soul to ensure Valahorn is protected, especially from a mother such as her.’

Cullen understood all too well. Running a hand to his neck, he rubbed it deeply but no amount of pressure could relieve the pressure building up. ‘What can you do? You make a claim on Valahorn she’ll have you murdered before the day is done. Maker help us this is a fucking nightmare.'

Jowan looked dismally around the room. ‘Look at where we are Cullen. You are one stone’s throw away from being declared traitor to the kingdom and locked up in a Ferelden prison. I’m merely a puppet to the Divine, forced to do her dirty work while she holds my son away from me. Is this really where either of us should be?’

The Commander shook his head. ‘No. But then again after everything that has happened, who is where they should be? Every man, woman and child is a pawn in game far beyond our control. There is injustice everywhere.’

‘It’s a defeatist attitude to believe that we have no control.’ argued Jowan ‘Knowing what we know now, perhaps Morrigan has a point? Our blind faith in following Leliana has never made sense. We did it to keep the peace. But where is this peace now?’

Cullen turned to the mage. ‘She can be very persuasive. And dangerous.’

‘So can I.’ replied Jowan icily ‘I wasn’t always the amicable Athalwolf Guildersleeve.’

Cullen raised a brow. ‘She wasn’t always the amicable Spymaster of Skyhold.’

‘Do you think Valahorn will turn out well in her care?’ asked the mage seriously ‘Tell me Cullen, for you know her better than I. Is Leliana capable of raising a child with love, or hate? Is she the best choice of a parent here?’

‘No, of course not.’ muttered the Commander darkly ‘Valahorn would be better off in your care. Irrespective of your malificar background, foul magic and deals with demons, I still suspect Valahorn would be better off with you. Is that saying something about my opinion of Leliana?’

‘Then I must take Valahorn and leave here.’ decided Jowan.

The Commander looked to the mage in surprise. ‘Take Valahorn? Leliana would never let you near the child.’

‘Leliana won’t know I’m coming for him.’ replied Jowan ‘He is my son and I will ensure he is raised as a person rather than a figurehead that Leliana has mustered up.’

‘You’re going to need help.’ frowned Cullen, looking over to the mage with a shrug.

Jowan appeared surprised by the implied offer. ‘You would…?’

‘If you promise me that you will raise Valahorn away from this chaos. In a place where he can live a normal life, away from blood magic. If you can promise me that he will be cared for properly and live a happy existence…then yes, I will help you. Before I leave Skyhold, I will help you.’ answered Cullen.

‘Leave Skyhold? Where are you going?’ asked Jowan.

‘I’m going to find Ophelia.’ answered Cullen determinedly. He turned to his desk and sat down, withdrawing some parchment from the desk draw. ‘I’ve decided to resign from my position in the Order. There are some things in life that are more important than duty, I’ve come to realise that now.’

‘You plan to run off with the Queen of Ferelden?’ remarked Jowan bluntly ‘Morrigan will be happy to know she has competition over who is considered the greatest traitor to the crown.’

Cullen chuckled. ‘I plan to be far away from Ferelden before too long, with Ophelia by my side. Traitors are a matter of geography, it matters little in the end.’

Jowan chuckled, shaking his head.

‘What is it?’ inquired Cullen.

‘The head of the Templar Order and Mage Order resign before we’ve even started.’ observed Jowan ‘That is not a promising sign.’

‘I fear what lies ahead for us both will be far more difficult than if we decided to stay here.’ frowned Cullen ‘Nevertheless there are some things worth fighting for.’

The men grew silent in their reverence, finding unity in a sentiment they both held dear to their hearts.

‘Come now, we haven’t much time and a great deal to think on. You need to find a way to take Valahorn and I need a way to get to Ophelia.’

Jowan joined Cullen at his desk and sat down on the opposite side. The mage sighed, picking up the quill from its ink pot. ‘Well I always find writing a list helps. Okay Cullen, let us begin.’


	104. Behind Curtains

The carriage rolled down the mountain path towards Ferelden, with me alone inside. No amount of luxurious red velvet cushion or golden jacquard curtain could ease the feeling that I was completely isolated. Worse than that, my final trip from Skyhold alone in a carriage sealed that feeling of solitary confinement. I was a bird imprisoned in a gilded cage.

Being dragged away from Cullen, I never got to say everything that needed to be said. We had kissed but one kiss would never be enough. I wanted Cullen and no one else. And now I would never see him again. Wiping a tear with the cotton cuff of my dress, I was unable to stop the grief pouring out of me as I sobbed uncontrollably into my palms. My mind replayed the moment I had departed from Cullen, over and over again. His eyes painfully looking into mine, begging me not to leave. Not like that. After everything that we had been through, that should never have been our final goodbye. I shouldn’t have been here now in this awful carriage being taken away from the love of my life.

As I departed Skyhold at dawn, Alistair had been pulled aside by a guard and for some reason remained behind at Skyhold, instructing our party to continue on our travels that early morning. I wasn’t sure why but I wasn’t too concerned either way. I didn’t want to see the king, and if he delayed his trip for several days I wouldn’t have cared in the slightest.

Upon returning to my chambers that previous night, I was greeted by an empty room. Irritably I waited for Alistair to return but he never did, and just as I drifted off in the early hours of morning I was awoken by a guard at the door who came to collect me and the royal chests. Somewhat rushed into the carriage, there I had remained until we left.

After crying for a good half an hour, combined with the rocking of the jolty carriage, my eyes began to drift shut. Welcoming a sleep that had not come the previous night, I fell into a deep sleep……

The sound of horses neighing woke me as the carriage came to a halt at the base of the Frostback Mountains. The sun was already overhead, and to my surprise we’d been travelling for several hours. The horses were watered as the guards took a quick break and I remained in the carriage, throwing crushed tea cake to the wagtails gathering outside my window. We waited an hour or maybe more before finally Alistair and his men galloped down Gherlen’s Pass to join us.

Exchanging several brief words with the soldiers in our party, Alistair finally dismounted from his steed and joined me in the royal carriage. Lifting his brown eyes to meet mine as he stepped through the door, he quickly sat opposite me, brushing off the dirt from his pants and running a hand through his windswept messy brown hair. 

‘What a terrible morning. Kieran fell through the ice on The Three Archers River.’ informed Alistair wearily ‘I had to stay behind and make sure he was okay.’

Startled by the unfortunate news, I forget my momentary anger towards the man. ‘Poor Kieran, is he alright?’ I asked in concern ‘Was he hurt?’

Alistair shook his head. ‘Thank the Maker he is perfectly fine. Jowan pulled him from the water and from what I hear the man nearly died himself. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it.’. Noticing the worry on my face upon hearing that my close friend had nearly died, Alistair added in reassurance ‘Jowan is alive and well. I saw both him and Kieran, quite cold and shocked, but nevertheless breathing and awake and absolutely fine.’. The king sighed, settling back into the velvet seat. ‘Puts a lot of things in perspective when you see how fragile life is. Makes you wonder why we fight and cause so much hardship for each other when life is already ruthless as it is.’

Perhaps he had a point there but my annoyance at the man returned once more and I remained quiet, unable to continue any pleasant conversation with him. The king noticed my chilly disposition and drew the jacquard curtains shut so we could have some privacy.

‘We should talk.’ observed Alistair seriously, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

My eyes remained fixated through the slit of the curtain where I could see the valleys rolling by. Alistair was free to talk but it would only be with himself. I was not interested in chatting with the King of Ferelden.

‘Ophelia I know you are angry at me.’ continued Alistair with a frown ‘And well, to be honest, I’m angry at you also.’

My eyes flashed across to him, shocked at such a statement. ‘Angry at me? For what? For leaving The Cock and Bull without your permission?’

Alistair frowned, drawing his hands together as he rested his elbows on his knees and looked directly at me. ‘My men reported to me that you were outside talking to Cullen, alone in the garden. And sharing a pipe together? Can you see why I didn’t take that all too well?’

Shaking my head in disgust, I turned away from his judgemental eyes. ‘So you were spying on me? You didn’t think I just needed a moment to myself after finding out that you and your kingdom have intended to force me into having your child from the get go? Which is more deceptive Alistair? Sharing a pipe with Cullen or forcing a woman to have your child?’

Alistair shifted in his seat, annoyed at the comment. The uncomfortable silence remained for some time until he turned back to me looking a little more apologetic. ‘When we lay together last night I felt this…incredible bond with you.’ confessed Alistair ‘I didn’t do that out of obligation or with any thought of the kingdom’. Alistair sighed, shaking his head. ‘In fact Ferelden wasn’t even on my mind when I had you in my arms last night. Nor Sierra. I didn’t care about anything except you. That is where my heart lies now.’ Taking my hand in his, he gently kissed it. ‘You are very special to me Ophelia. When my men told me you were with Cullen outside of the tavern, after everything that I had said to you in the tavern…well, I didn’t like it. I felt hurt. I felt like I had been gulled. I’m sorry but when it comes to Cullen I have a lot of resentment and knowing your history, perhaps a little envy also?’ 

‘You had your guards drag me away.’ I informed coldly ‘It shouldn’t be like that. If you are hurt, you come find me. Don’t send your guards to do your dirty work as if I was another one of your subordinates’. There was hurt in my voice because I felt betrayed. I felt betrayed for a lot of reasons. And although many of those reasons were not Alistair’s fault, I felt like I had also betrayed my own feelings one too many times by allowing all this to happen.

Alistair frowned, shaking his head in disapproval. ‘I didn’t know they did that. I’ll speak to them immediately when we arrive at Redcliffe. They shouldn’t have done that and will be reprimanded for their behaviour. No one should drag you away.’. Alistair kissed my hand again. ‘And you’re right, I should have come and found you myself. I’m sorry.’

Turning back to the window, I knew that I had to remain civil. Alistair needed to believe that we were fine. If I was ever going to escape Denerim, everything had to return to normal. Placing a hand on his, I accepted his apology. ‘A silly squabble. I think I understand Alistair. From your perspective, although unintentional, I can see how I hurt you. For that I apologise also.’

‘No I’m sorry. I said it first.’ grinned the king, moving across to sit beside me. He placed a kiss on my cheek and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. ‘Can we forget about last night, well at least the last part, and start afresh? Just you and me, two silly old royals in a carriage?’. Placing another kiss on my cheek, Alistair threw me a foolish grin. ‘Please don’t hate me, I hate being hated.’

Chuckling, a shook my head. ‘I don’t hate you Alistair.’

Alistair smiled at me as he leant over and gently kissed me on the mouth. A soft kiss that lingered. Slowly he pulled me towards him, and I allowed him to, feeling the urgency of his embrace in his arms. Yet it appeared the king didn’t want to stop at one kiss as his hands fell to my waist and his lips to my neck and then down to my breasts. An innocent peck was now transforming into an erotic encounter as Alistair playfully lapped his pink tongue along my skin.

He wanted more, and I didn’t have the power to stop him without giving him cause to doubt that we were not fine.

‘I can’t stop thinking about last night.’ Alistair confessed, drawing his mouth to mine again. His hands ran to my dress, slowly easing the material up as his palm scooped under to find my thigh. ‘Every time I recall how soft your skin was, and how warm it felt being inside of you. Ever since that moment I've wanted more of you.’ he whispered urgently, kissing me again as he stroked my inner thigh, fingers deftly tracing higher and lingering intimately to where he wanted to be.

‘But we’re in a carriage.’ I chuckled uneasily ‘The coachman is on the other side of this wall. If you can even call it a wall? It’s more like a sheet of material.’

‘Have you ever driven a carriage?’ Alistair grinned, apparently not too concerned by my excuse. ‘They’re noisy. All that man will hear is the horses snorting and the wheels of the carriage rolling rough on the stones.’

His brown hair falling forward, Alistair began to unbuckle his brown belt, loosening the clasp. His manhood was hard as he pulled it out from his pants, a slab of dick surging hot and more than ready. Smiling at me, he began pulling up my skirts.

‘Alistair maybe we should wait until we get back to the castle? Someone is going to see us.’ I warned.

Honestly I didn’t care if someone saw us, it was the fact that this wasn’t at all what I had in mind right now. I wasn’t going to be the one giving an heir to the kingdom of Ferelden.

‘They won’t.’ reassured Alistair, kissing my neck enthusiastically as he moved himself over me ‘The curtains are drawn and we aren’t stopping for a few more hours at the very least.’

Laying me back on the velvet seat, Alistair’s hungry lips fell against mine as I felt him pull aside my undergarments and eased his stiff cock into me. I gasped as my hands moved to his chest, pushing him away and suddenly he paused.

‘Do you not want me to?’ he asked in surprise.

I know I could have said no, I knew that, but for some reason all I did was nod and mumble something about it being fine. Cursing myself and him, I closed my eyes and hoped he just hurried up and got his jollies. Alistair moaned as he pushed his cock in and began to thrust, groaning in delight as he began to lose himself in the moment. His chiselled hips moved firmly against mine as he pushed me further into the corner of the carriage with his weight, my back against the side and seat with him collapsing over me. His cock was painfully rigid with the lack of foreplay and roughly he pushed his stiffness up into me, causing me to wince each time. However lost in his own pleasure, Alistair was unaware and began to thrust harder and deeper, growing more and more aroused as suddenly he came in me, groaning loudly as he held his cock deep.

_What the fuck had just happened?_

Still a little in shock at the suddenness of Alistair’s actions, I nodded as he pulled out of me and I rearranged my skirts once more. Trousers still loose and deflated cock flopped out, Alistair wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face into my lap as he collapsed into a heap, panting with contentment.

‘That was wonderful. I think I could sleep all the way to Redcliffe now.’ he murmured dreamily, closing his eyes blissfully.

Placing an uncertain hand on his brown hair, I returned my attention to the valley through the slit of my window, desperately hoping we reached Redcliffe very soon.


	105. Another Path Calls

  
  


The wind swept wildly across the mountains that morning, causing the latch of Leliana's window to bang loudly. Clunk, clunk, clunk. Every time the metal hit the frame she bit her lip but she was much too distracted to close it. Her attention was distracted by two letters that had appeared on her desk that morning, and the content within she found more than a little disturbing.  
  


The letters were from Cullen.  
  


Neatly handwritten on cream parchment holding the Chantry seal, one letter formerly advised her that Cullen was stepping down from his position as the Right Hand to the Divine. The other letter held the seal of the Templar Order, and formerly advised her that Cullen would be stepping down from his position as Knight-Commander of the Templar Order. Simple as that.   
  


Furiously she flung the letters onto her desk and started for the door, ready to confront the man. The handle of her study door began to turn and she marched forward in determination.   
  


'Go away, I don't want any visitors at the moment.' Leliana yelled out 'I need to find Commander Cullen this instant.'  
  


As the door continued to open, the man behind it revealed himself with a smirk. He was armoured in his templar trappings, sword attached at his side, and the sweat on his brow suggested he had just returned from the dawn training session. Noticing her expression of fury, Cullen nodded as if he had expected as much.  
  


'You.' observed Leliana, sweeping back her ginger hair in annoyance.  
  


Holding his small smirk, Cullen waited patiently at the door. 'Yes it is me. Are you going to invite me in?'  
  


'I'm in no mood for jokes Cullen.' threatened the spymaster 'What is the meaning of this?!'  
  


'I suppose you've read my resignations by now.' he observed calmly, walking towards the crib by the window. Valahorn was asleep, peacefully resting in a dreamland that Cullen envied. Gently the Commander ran a finger along the sleeping baby's cheek, lost in a moment of his own as Leliana fumed behind him.  
  


'So just like that you are throwing away everything that you have worked so hard for?' remarked Leliana crisply 'Duty and honour mean nothing now? Your loyalty to the Templar's, to me, have diminished? Gone entirely?'  
  


Cullen chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to the seething Spymaster. His hand lingered gently on the infant before drawing away. 'Not that I don't appreciate the dramatics Leliana, but I suspect you knew this was a long time coming.' he pointed out patiently 'My interest in being Right Hand waned from the moment I was given the role.'  
  


'You accepted that role for me.' reminded Leliana angrily.   
  


'Yes I was concerned for your welfare,' agreed Cullen 'but the Chantry has proven more than efficient in that regard. You are well looked after. And considering I have no interest in the politics of the position I have decided to step down.'  
  


Leliana scoffed. 'You can't be serious?'  
  


'At refusing a role I only accepted out of obligation to you?' chortled Cullen, running an amused hand across his sandy stubble 'No I am perfectly serious. You need to appoint a Right Hand that serves the role with enthusiasm at the very least. There are many in the Chantry that would give the position more justice than I. Most I dare say.'  
  


Grabbing the letter sealed with the seal the Templar Order, she thrust the parchment at the man. 'And this? Resignation from the Order entirely? And you, the Knight-Commander!'  
  


With an air of indifference, Cullen casually took the letter from her. He ran his thumb over the edge of the parchment before tossing it back onto the desk. 'I left the Order easily enough when I joined the Inquisition.' he observed 'You can hardly be surprised that I am willing to leave the Order once more. With Rylen sharing my position as Knight Commander at present, one of us had to step down at some point. I am happy to oblige.'  
  


'To do what?!' asked Leliana in frustration 'Have you taken a blow to the head this morning? This makes no sense. No sense at all. Why haven't you mentioned one word of this to me until now? We share a bed together and yet somehow you forget to mention this life changing decision of yours?'  
  


Rubbing the knot in his shoulder, Cullen sighed. 'Perhaps that is why I didn't mention it to you until now. I don't have to be a gypsy to predict you would have cut down my ideas dead in their tracks, had I tried to discuss them with you.'  
  


'That is what you do.' yelled Leliana 'You talk to your partner. Not lie to me about what you're planning to do.  
  


Cullen raised his brows in amusement.   
  


'What is that supposed to mean?' retorted Leliana defensively 'You think sneaking behind my back and not telling me about important life decisions is acceptable?'  
  


'If I did it with the intention to deceive you, no that is never acceptable.' replied the man a little coldly, the glint in his eye a little menacing 'As it is there was no concealment of the truth. Here it is, before you by my very own hand.'  
  


Leliana refused to accept any of it. 'I know you Cullen. You need a purpose. A cause to fight for. The man I know would never leave it all behind him.'  
  


'The man you know may not be the man that I am.' replied Cullen sternly. His amber eyes looked seriously at the woman. 'I mean it Leliana. I'm done with this. After going through the last decade I feel I'm entitled to a different path, don't you? Mia's husband John died last winter and I was none the wiser. I can't even imagine what she went through, and I'll never know because I was never there. These paltry duties I serve here and abroad have all but robbed me of the duties I owe to my family. To my sister. Maker knows Mia could do with a little help running the estate now.'  
  


'So you are leaving everything to run off and play farmer in South Reach?' scorned Leliana 'Have you forgotten that you have family here. You have a responsibility to your son.'. The woman moved over to Valahorn, placing a soft hand on his chest. 'Your son needs you.' she whispered, looking to Cullen with emotional eyes. 'I need you.'  
  


The Commander drew closer to Leliana. His large hands grabbed hers gently, and despite her pulling away he held on firmly. 'Leli,' he whispered 'I said I would resign from my formal positions, not from you and our son. I would never abandon him.'. Holding her hands tighter, he added 'But you must let me live my life on my own terms. Not as a servant to the Chantry. Not to the Order of Templars. Those paths, no matter how much I respect them, are no longer ones I wish to follow. '  
  


'This is a mistake.' warned the Spymaster 'You will find yourself at a loss in the world. We've seen too many terrible things, experienced too much suffering. There is no chance for us to live normal lives after all that. You are not the same peasant boy who grew up in Honnleath. You have changed and can never escape that. Certainly not to go play some block-headed farmer in the country.'  
  


'In part that is why I must leave here.' observed Cullen solemnly 'To find myself once more.'. Tilting his head, he threw her a playful smile. 'Come now Leli. You want me to be happy, don't you?'. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he flashed her a mischievous smile. 'I could think of many things to entertain myself if I got some time back.'  
  


'No doubt.' mused Leliana. Clearly unhappy but knowing it would be a lost cause to push her agenda at present, she lent over and placed a kiss on his cheek. 'Of course I want you to be happy. That is what I have always wanted.'  
  


'Then understand why I am doing this.' encouraged Cullen.  
  


Dismally she nodded. 'This is going to take some time to getting used to....but I know my role as Divine was going to change everything. I just had hoped I could have taken you along with me.'. With a shrug, she revealed a small smile. 'Skyhold was getting boring anyway. So what now? You're leaving for South Reach. Should I start making arrangements for us to change residence to somewhere closer? I hear there is a new Chantry near Innesvin that would be more than happy to welcome us for a while.'  
  


The templar threw her a dubious look. 'We both know your official residence is at the Grand Cathedral in Orlais. Head of the Chantry or not, I've never heard of a Divine settling down in South Reach before.'  
  


'I'll make it work.' she declared. Looking fondly at her sleeping son, she held a smile on her lips. 'We're a family Cullen. I would do anything for us to be together.'  
  


'Of that, I have no doubt.' he replied with a smile, turning quickly back to Valahorn in order to conceal the absolute disdain in his eyes.

  
  
  


****

  
  


The carriage ride to Redcliffe dragged on for what felt like an eternity and Alistair's polite conversations only added to the torment. A casual comment about the rain patterns in Redcliffe, an observation here and there about the crops of the season, and several witty remarks mingled with smiles of a flirtatious nature.   
  


It was all too much to bare witness to.   
  


If I had to be honest with myself I found it unnerving how our relationship had turned out. Somehow we had managed to strike up a friendship after the unceremonious ultimatum that brought us together. Somehow we had moved on from that awkward situation. And then somehow we ended up in bed together. A moment of weakness had added confusion an already confusing situation. I felt more like Alistair's wife than ever before and I only had myself to blame for it. And now, as I felt Alistair's warm arm around my shoulders holding me affectionately beside him, I wondered whether I was overreacting? Should I really flee or should I just stay and play it out for a while longer? Would it really be that bad if I just buried my feelings for Cullen and forget he ever existed?   
  


The voices in my head laughed at me. I had a greater chance of seeing pigs fly.  
  


I had to escape Ferelden.   
  


Upon reaching Redcliffe Castle, we were surprised to be greeted not only by Arl Teagan Guerrin of Redcliffe, but also Arl Eamon Guerrin of Denerim. Brothers side by side, the pair were waiting for us at the steps of the castle. The closer the carriage approached the more apparent it was that they brought no warm welcome. They appeared worried and eager to speak with us.  
  


'Maker, this looks ominous.' observed Alistair uneasily, his eyes fixated on the pair outside the carriage window.   
  


'Eamon is always pretty grumpy?' I pointed out lightheartedly.  
  


Alistair smiled at me. 'Don't we know it? I grant you Eamon never smiles, but Teagan not smiling? No, something is very wrong.'  
  


Finally the carriage came to a halt and Alistair and I departed hastily, making our way to meet the men at the stairs to the castle. Alistair's hand fell to mine, to reassure me or to seek reassurance. I wasn't entirely sure which one? Nevertheless we approached the men together, ready for whatever may come.  
  


'Eamon. Teagan. What has happened?' asked Alistair as he approached swiftly.  
  


‘Alistair finally you have come.’ remarked a relieved Eamon, embracing his nephew with vigour. The arl threw me a polite nod and gruff my Queen before turning back to the king. ‘We’ve had word from the south a few days back. Ostagar is overrun with darkspawn. A new entrance has erupted from the ground and the place is crawling with them. Hundreds I'm told, maybe more?’

‘What has been done so far?’ asked Alistair firmly. His jovial nature melted away into the serious demeanour of a ruler as he stood before the men. ‘Have the Grey Wardens been notified? What of our own soldiers?’

‘Word was sent a few days back to the Grey Wardens but we all know they are several weeks away at the very least.’ informed Teagan ‘We've had no word back from them yet. All we know was they were all but ready to relocate to Ostagar.'  
  


'They were, but most of the Order have not left Adamant yet.' frowned Alistair 'I only welcomed them back into the realm weeks ago myself.'   
  


'One small group of Wardens had already ridden ahead, preparing Ostagar for the arrival of their Order.' Teagan continued 'It was they who notified Eamon in Denerim about the darkspawn.’  
  


Eamon nodded. 'The moment I found out I set out for Redcliffe to notify you. The wardens who came to me have returned to Ostagar to do what they can.'  
  


‘One small group of Grey Wardens is no match for that many darkspawn.’ observed Alistair sombrely 'So we have no one guarding the south at present? This is dire. Mind you it's not the first time the darkspawn have overrun Ostagar.'  
  


'What happened then?' asked Teagan.  
  


Alistair appeared solemn thinking back to the time. 'I cleared them out with the help of Sierra, Wynn and Oghren. It was then that I was able to reclaim Cailan's body and give my brother a proper burial. For now we can only hope the darkspawn are content with staying in the area and not venturing towards the nearby villages. Knowing their thirst for blood I don't think they will.'  
  


‘I made the decision to send two hundred of our soldiers to Ostagar.’ informed Eamon ‘It won’t be enough but they have been ordered to secure the perimeter to ensure none travel any further to the neighbouring villages. They marched from Denerim immediately when we found out, I imagine they are well in the thick of it by now.’  
  


‘Well pray the Maker protect them, for it is all we can do for now.’ muttered Alistair. Casting his eyes to the manservant unpacking the carriage, he clicked his fingers. 'Send word to the stables to prepare my horse. I must set out for Ostagar immediately, and regroup with my soldiers.'  
  


The manservant bowed and ran away, sensing the urgency in his kings voice. There was no time to delay.  
  


'Alistair.' warned Eamon, placing a hand on the ruler's shoulder. 'You are the King and it is too risky to go near such danger. Teagan and I can go south and meet up with the Wardens when they arrive.'  
  


Alistair scoffed, waving his hand at his uncle. 'Who should go if not the king? I am not defending Ferelden behind my soldiers, but with them. The darkspawn mustn't be allowed to venture throughout Ferelden, or harm our people. You know I was the head of the Grey Wardens and that I know the darkspawn better than anyone. No Eamon, I must go immediately.'  
  


Teagan appeared proud of Alistair's sentiments, a warm expression on his face as he beheld the man. Yet his brother was not so pleased. Upon seeing Eamon's displeasure, Teagan added quickly. 'Brother, forgive me for saying this but you are not as young as you once were. Leave this matter to Alistair. You and Ophelia should stay here to act on behalf of the crown while the matter is dealt with.'  
  


Holding Alistair's hand in mine, I squeezed it reassuringly. 'Alistair I will come and help you fight them. You're going to need magic on your side and I have plenty of that. We should also send word to the mages at Skyhold to come aid also. They would come if you asked, I'm certain of it.'  
  


Throwing me a soft smile, Alistair shook his head. 'Although I appreciate it, all that I truly want is for you to be safe and far from Ostagar. You must stay here.'  
  


'I'm no stranger to a battle.' I pointed out 'I'm coming along where I can be of use.'  
  


'No.' replied Alistair firmly, appearing a little vexed that I would suggest placing myself in harms way to help. His brown eyes looked into mine with gentle appeal. 'You're not a Grey Warden and this is not a time to test your skills against the darkspawn. I've seen what happens to people who get infected with their taint. Maker knows I would not risk you to such a fate. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you. That is my final word on the matter.'  
  


Disliking the fact that I was being told what to do I began to reply, but Teagan's subtle shake of his head to me silently suggested I let it go.  
  


‘Alistair, I will ride out with you.’ informed Teagan ‘This body has a few more battles to fight. Eamon and Ophelia can stay here at Redcliffe Castle until we return. Denerim is closer to Ostagar and the darkspawn, and I would not risk them returning to the city on potentially dangerous roads.’  
  


Alistair nodded, looking at Eamon and I. ‘I agree, you both should stay in Redcliffe. Teagan, get our men ready. We ride out as soon as we can.’  
  


Rubbing his red beard energetically, as if excited at the prospect of setting out on an adventure, Teagan turned swiftly towards the castle gates.   
  


‘I will return shortly.' informed Alistair, heading up the stairs 'I need to gather a few things for the journey. Wait for me until I return.’  
  


Eamon and I remained there silently, watching the guards and maids race around like ants frantically preparing before a storm. The horses were already being brought out into the courtyard. Eight in total. Between snorts and impatient hooves, the stable hands were saddling the beasts, while weapons were being brought out and rations hastily piled in saddlebags by the servants from the kitchens. My heart sunk as I saw the healing potions being shoved into the saddlebags, as many as they could fit.  
  


‘Eamon, should we be worried?’ I asked, turning to him for words of comfort. 'How likely is it that the Dark spawn can be contained with soldiers alone? Soldiers that are not Grey Wardens? And Alistair isn't even a Warden anymore. Is it safe for him to be fighting on the front line? He could become infected with this darkspawn blood, couldn't he?'  
  


'No he should not be going,' answered the Arl gravely 'but that is Alistair's choice and he has made it. I fear he has the courage of his father Maric but the foolhardy nature of his brother Cailan. Alistair is a king but has been raised a soldier. Of course he believes his place is on the battlefield along side his men. What else could we expect from a warrior?'  
  


Fearing for Alistair's safety, I looked back to the castle where he had gone to pack for his journey. 'Then shouldn't we stop him? I can try and talk to him now?'   
  


Eamon shook his head. ‘Although I disapprove of him going, there is no one better than Alistair to deal with the darkspawn He was a warden and knows how to best destroy with these foul creatures. Ferelden's safety is our priority. We must have faith in Alistair's decisions, for he is our king and we are his faithful servants.’  
  


Strange as it was, Eamon sounded bitter as he said these last words.   
  


'Well I guess that means we're living here at Redcliffe for a while then?' I sighed, looking up at the great castle walls 'Perhaps I should send for my things at Denerim if we cannot return soon? I've a few chests I'd like brought here.'  
  


With a pursed lip and a disapproving frown, it appeared that something else concerned Eamon. He lowered his voice and yet somehow his civility diminished also. ‘If I may, might I speak to you about something else that has been troubling me a great deal?’  
  


Whatever he had to say, it was apparently not a pleasant topic.   
  


'What is it?' I asked precariously.  
  


The man crossed his arms against his chest, as if preparing to lecture a disobedient servant. ‘Before I left Denerim, and while you and Alistair were away, I was approached by one of your chamber maids.' informed Eamon rigidly. He brushed his sleeve, pausing to remove the invisible lint that offended him. 'The lady had good intentions so do not blame her for doing so. She found…'. Eamon pursued his lips harder, his brows lowering as he eyeballed me. 'She found questionable substances in your belongings. Pennyroyal. I'm informed this plant is a common keepsake of women that do not wish to find themselves with child.’  
  


Gobsmacked by the audacity of the man, I chuckled in disbelief. ‘Is it now? Eamon sorry to say this, but it’s no concern of yours or this chamber maid of what I keep in my possessions.'   
  


'So you admit it?' pressed Eamon sternly.  
  


'I admit to nothing.' I replied angrily 'How dare you stand here and judge me when it is your nosy servants that are rifling through the Queen of Ferelden's belongings. You have no right to do that. Who do you think you are?'  
  


The Arl shook his head. ‘Were that the case I would simply drop the matter. However I am Arl of Denerim and closest adviser to his Majesty. My involvement in ensuring the continuance of this kingdom is my main prerogative. You are the queen and your duty is to sire an heir. Using Pennyroyal is certainly not permitted. It is a terrible betrayal to us all.’  
  


‘Says who?' I scoffed 'I'm a free person, am I not? Alistair and I decide on such matters, not you. This is a personal matter Eamon, you would do well to leave it alone.’  
  


‘You're right.' agreed Eamon sternly 'It is a personal matter. It's extremely personal to all of Ferelden when you hold the fate of our unborn heir. Were you to intervene with a child of the crown...well.'  
  


My blood started to boil as I realised what he was going to say. 'Well what?' I asked dangerously, daring him on.  
  


The Arl looked seriously at me. 'That would be considered murder and you would be tried for treason. You have no right to remove any potential heir from your womb.'  
  


'My body is my body. Not Ferelden's.' I replied coldly.  
  


Heart racing, I was about to continue telling off Eamon when Alistair returned swiftly down the stairs, carrying a leather satchel and a handful of maps. The troubled king noticed the look of outrage on my face and turned to Eamon, who also looked offended.  
  


‘What have you said to her now?’ Alistair sighed 'Maker help me, can't you two get along for a few seconds? I haven't even left to deal with these darkspawn and it looks like you both want blood more than they do.'  
  


'Perhaps you should tell your nosy Arl to keep out of my possessions in Denerim.' I blurted out angrily, throwing Eamon an even filthier look. 'He seems to be taking too much of an interest in matters that don't involve him.'  
  


Alistair raised an amused brow to his uncle. 'Say what now? Eamon have you been going through Ophelia's dresses again?'  
  


Eamon turned to the king seriously, not willing to entertain light hearted banter. 'Alistair I merely mentioned to Ophelia that I was concerned about certain substances that were found in her possessions back in Denerim. A very large amount of a herb Pennyroyal was found in her chambers. A very large amount.'  
  


Appearing confused, the king shook his head. 'I'm not familiar with herb? What's so bad about it?'  
  


''It's a herb used, only used, to kill off an unwanted child.' informed Eamon bluntly, refusing to look at me as he spoke the terrible truth. 'Needless to say this is not the type of plant anyone from Ferelden would expect a childless queen to be keeping in her room.'. His eyes narrowed, adding dryly. 'Or perhaps that is exactly what we all should have suspected considering no news of an expectant heir has arrived yet.'  
  


Throwing me a semi-confused look, Alistair returned his gaze to his uncle. ‘Ophelia and I have become quite intimate since we’ve been away.’ informed Alistair ‘If Ophelia had wanted to use it for that purpose she would have certainly taken the stuff with her. Yes?'  
  


Eamon scoffed, apparently unconvinced. 'How do we know she doesn't have a batch of it in her bags.'  
  


'I don't.' I replied icily 'Why would I?'  
  


'Why would you have any in the first place?' asked Alistair quietly, looking as if he suddenly realised why I had the herbs.   
  


'Precisely my concern!' agreed Eamon.  
  


Panicking, I pointed to the chests still being unloaded from the carriage. 'Okay well check my belongings, you'll find none of it in there. I wasn't using it.'  
  


'Yet it appears you had a large batch of it in Denerim.' observed Alistair a little coldly. His voice sounded wounded, and there was a flicker of betrayal in his eyes as he met mine. 'If it was not for our child, then who would you be using it for?'  
  


The look in his eyes told me he already knew.  
  


Michel de Chevin.  
  


There was no reason he could have known but at that moment I knew Alistair realised the terrible truth. Michel and I had been sleeping together at the Palace and I was using Pennyroyal to avoid falling pregnant. I had lied to Alistair about Michel and he knew it.   
  


Suddenly Alistair waved off his loaded question, pretending it to be irrelevant. 'Of course Ophelia must have taken it with her from Skyhold.' he informed Eamon 'I assume the herb is commonly used by those who are unmarried. Is that a correct assumption Ophelia? Is this from Skyhold?'  
  


Unable to tear my eyes away from his brown accusing eyes, I nodded silently. Alistair was painfully aware that I never brought my possessions with me from Skyhold. Indeed, we had both recently discovered that Leliana had burnt all my chests while I was away in Denerim. There was no way that I could have brought a large amount of Pennyroyal with me. The only way would have been to have procured it while I was at the palace. Something that I had done via a kindly washing maid, one that I had known from previous days in Skyhold, who took pity on me.   
  


'And you haven't used any since we've laid together?' Alistair asked rigidly.  
  


'Of course not.' I replied adamantly.   
  


Alistair nodded back coldly. 'Well there you are Eamon. Matter settled.'  
  


Eamon frowned, unwilling to let the matter go. 'No, I want both of you to promise me that this is not happening behind closed doors. Promise me that you do not condone the Queen's use of this herb. You must realise that an heir for the Ferelden crown is imperative. Your throne will never be secure until you and Ophelia have an heir. Immediately. Alistair you must understand this. Tell me you understand this?'  
  


Nodding at the observation, Alistair cast his eyes darkly towards my direction. 'Naturally I would never condone of any practice that hinders my attempt at producing an heir. Ophelia all use of any herb must be stopped at once. And all actions that interfere with the rightful heir must be stopped immediately. Are we clear?’  
  


Actions like sleeping with another man? Of course I knew what Alistair was saying.   
  


Again all I could do was nod.   
  


'Yes Alistair.' I replied quietly, my heart beating frantically in my chest.  
  


Finally Eamon appeared pleased. ‘Hence why I've confiscated the Pennyroyal and anything that may lead to such an outcome. I've instructed that no access of herbs is provided to the Queen henceforth.'  
  


'You've made your point.' I acknowledged icily 'You don't need to treat me like a prisoner. If I say I won't use it then I won't. You forget I am Queen, Eamon. How about a shred of respect?'  
  


Alistair shifted in annoyance, throwing me a disapproving look before turning to his uncle. 'While I'm away I'm leaving you in charge, Eamon. You've more experienced in running the kingdom than Ophelia, and I think it best that she avoids any stress. Ophelia you will listen to Eamon and follow his instructions while I am gone.'  
  


'Excuse me?' I replied, stunned at Alistair's orders. Was he really telling me Eamon was in charge and I had to obey?   
  


'Perhaps you should retire to your room now?' added Alistair coldly 'The trip has been long and you have much to think upon. I will return from Ostagar as soon as I can.'. Placing a frigid peck on my cheek, Alistair lingered by my ear. '_Michel de Chevin will be dismissed from Denerim immediately and will not return._' he whispered angrily '_You are not see him or contact him ever again. Am I understood?_'  
  


Heart racing at the hostility of his tone, I took a quick step back from Alistair. 'Of course.' I replied quietly 'Safe journies.'  
  


Grabbing the reigns being held ready by a nearby stable hand, Alistair mounted his horse with a hardened look that I knew had nothing to do with the news of the darkspawn Cullen had warned me of the ramifications of Alistair finding out about Michel and I. I feared now that he may have been right.   
  


Teagan and his men soon reappeared, armoured and ready for the journey ahead. Trying to catch Alistair's eye, I felt terrible as he now purposely avoided mine. He was acting so hostile it become unbearable to watch. Finally the king called the men out and they galloped away, down the dusty dirt road towards the heart of Ferelden.  
  


I looked to Eamon but the Arl had already turned a cold shoulder and set off into the castle, leaving me alone to watch the giant gates close once more.


	106. A Toast to Being Hermits

Ortik’s Tavern was quiet that night, with Ortik finding himself at a loss for patrons whilst The Cock and Bull's reputation exceeded his own fine establishment. He'd even gone so far as to put out free spiced walnuts on all the tables, but sadly it had made little difference. A handful of regulars drank cheap ale by the fireside and one lone mage sat at the far table by the window, leaving the rest of the large room looking rather forlorn.

An empty tavern was a sad sight to behold.

Grumbling to himself, Ortik rubbed his oak bar with a soft cloth he used to polish his battleaxe with in days gone by. Once a well reputed warrior and now the owner of a failing tavern. Alas, how the fates had turned.  
  


The tinkle from the iron bell at the tavern door rang, and in stepped a familiar face. Throwing his cloth on the bar, Ortik headed for the entrance with arms wide open to embrace his friend.  
  


'Commander Cullen! Bless my boots, it's good to see you!' he exclaimed gruffly, slapping the templar on the back. Ortik nudged his head back to the empty room behind him. 'Look what your bloody tavern has done to me. Stole all me patrons and made me a pauper, yer bloody bastard.'  
  


The Commander chuckled, patting the bartender on the arm warmly. 'Ortik it's good to see you.'. Noticing the lack of people, a reason why Cullen had chosen to come here this particular night, he sighed heavily in acknowledgement. 'You know The Cock and Bull is Varric's doing, not mine. I merely started it up to provide a place for my soldiers to play cards. As usual Varric took it one step too far. He's made more enemies than friends I can guarantee you. I'm certain Cabot plans to put a hit out on him one of these days.'  
  


Ortik grunted, moving back to the bar. 'Maybe its time to move on from this place. Who needs a tavern in the coldest place in Thedas? Maybe I'll start up a new inn near Lothering. Something quiet, like one of those snobby cellars for those rich Ferelden nobles to come and taste wine and get ripped off. Get some sun soaked into these old bones.'. Grabbing a bottle of mead, Ortik opened it and shoved the drink across the oak to the templar. 'On the house. You drinking here alone tonight?'  
  


Cullen nodded in thanks, accepting the mead before looking to mage sitting by the window. 'No I have company. Business I'm afraid. Always business these days.'  
  


'Aye aye, drink up then.' grumbled Ortik, pouring himself a whisky as Cullen made his way to his waiting company. 'I'll be here if you need some grub.'  
  


Brushing past empty chairs and tables Cullen made his way to the mage swirling a cup of wine in his hand, staring out the window into the dark evening. He appeared a million miles away yet turn sharply, sensing the templar approaching.  
  


'Finally he arrives.' remarked Jowan dryly, his dark eyes looking the man up and down in slight reproach. 'You realise how inconvenient your meeting place was to get to? Over an hour on horseback for this? '  
  


'A place away from prying eyes and curious ears.' replied Cullen, taking a seat opposite the mage. 'You been waiting long?'. He lifted the bottle of mead to his lips, pleasantly surprised at the taste of the honeyed liquid. 'This is a lot better than that swill Varric serves. Ortik has every reason to be annoyed at the rogue for stealing his customers.'  
  


Jowan nodded, looking at his near empty cup. 'I'm guessing this hasn't fallen off the back of a wagon, unlike Varric's selection. And no, I've not been here long.'  
  


The templar ran his eyes around the room, pausing to take in the wooden stairs at the foyer entrance that led to the rooms upstairs. A fond smile appeared on his face. 'I came here once with Ophelia. Years ago, when she tried to escape Skyhold.'  
  


'How many times has that woman tried to escape Skyhold?' queried an amused Jowan, chuckling to himself. 'I'm sorry to say it but she's not very good at it.'  
  


'Not at all.' chuckled Cullen 'Although she's had cause to try many times, given the circumstances.'. He took another long swig of the mead, settling back into the wooden chair. 'I remember we'd just moved into Skyhold and we barely knew each other back then. Passing strangers who bumped into each other several times, nothing more. But I liked her. There was something about her.'   
  


'Obviously the feeling wasn't mutual since she ran away.' teased Jowan.  
  


The man ran his hand to massage his neck. 'She was upset.' he explained 'Leliana had planted ideas in her head that I was in love with Sierra. Ophelia was hurt, I suppose.'  
  


The mage rolled his eyes. 'Leliana again. Always Leliana.'  
  


'Always Leliana.' muttered Cullen darkly. 'Anyway Ophelia took it to heart and ran off. Knowing she would most likely freeze to death out on her own, I agreed to escort her here. Then she was free to go on her way. I knew she wasn't seriously going to run away, but I recall that feeling of relief taking her back to Skyhold. Not for the Inquisitions sake, but for mine. Even back then I knew I didn't ever want to say goodbye.'  
  


Jowan sipped his wine in quiet contemplation. 'She's friendly and doesn't judge like most. I think that is why people like you and I find her pleasant to be around.'  
  


Cullen nodded, taking another sip. Tapping the bottle with his finger, he looked seriously at the mage. 'Jowan I need her back. Tell me this plan of ours is going to work. And tell me that you have found a solution for Leliana. Maker knows I have been wracking my brains and cannot think of any solution there.'  
  


Jowan placed his cup on the table and leant forward, his voice hushed to a whisper. 'There is one place that I can send her. I have thought on this a great deal and this is a place they will never be able to find her.'  
  


Cullen shook his head, disbelieving the mage. 'Trust me, there is nowhere in Thedas they won't be able to find Leliana. You underestimate the Chantry if you think otherwise. Be it the top of the highest peak or in the lowest chamber of the ocean, they will find her.'  
  


Jowan stirred in his seat, appearing a little hesitant to reveal the location. 'This place is not in Thedas.' he admitted quietly 'It's a place called the Nephilim Realm. Call it....a realm adjoined to the Fade. Something like that.'. He fluttered his slender fingers, as if explaining the exact location to the Commander would inevitably go over his head. 'It exists and it is there in this cave where I lived for many a year when I was fleeing the templars. This is where I propose we send Leliana.'  
  


'Demons.' frowned Cullen 'You expect me to send Leliana to a cave full of demons? You know I can't agree to that.'  
  


The mage brushed his robes crisply. 'Mind yourself, that's my home you're talking about, and a very nice one at that. It's not a cave filled with demons. It's a finely furnished den with all the trimmings of refined living. Envision a room full of velvet trimmed Orlesian day beds, Tevinter antique armoires and golden mirrors. There are fine tapestries on the walls and many rich Ferelden woollen carpets covering the stone floors. I have millions of books ranging from magic to poetry and history. And there's a larder there that would make the kitchens at Skyhold appear a pauper's lunch.'  
  


'So there are no demons?' pressed Cullen, still unconvinced 'In a place adjoined to the Fade. Not a demon in sight?'  
  


'The cave is magically enchanted with a barrier stronger than any demon could hope to break through.' answered Jowan indignantly 'Leliana will be protected from the demons. Nothing comes in and no one comes out.'  
  


'So the demons are protected from her.' joked Cullen cynically 'That's a relief.'  
  


'Let us hope so for their sake.' muttered Jowan 'I can transport Leliana to the cave easily enough, but there will be a need to return from time to time lest she find herself running short on butter and tea cake after a while.'  
  


'Yes I suppose borrowing from the neighbours is out of the question.' frowned Cullen 'So this is your plan? Essentially you are suggesting that we keep Leliana permanently a prisoner in your den in this Nephilim Realm.'  
  


Jowan shrugged. 'There are worse fates than spending your days in a comfortable retreat such as this place. There are fascinating books in that cave that I dare say even the most well travelled bards would have heard of. She can read, draw, paint, write, eat and sleep as she chooses. I have a wine collection in there that will be well enjoyed.'. Noticing Cullen's sceptical look, Jowan grew a little irritated. 'Personally I would rather not share my most beloved home with the delusional maniac. You should be relieved that I suggested this place rather than a rat infested cave, which is where she most definitely belongs. Of course if you are against this idea there is always the alternative....'  
  


Cullen threw Jowan a baleful look. 'We are not murdering her.'  
  


The mage shrugged. 'Have it your way. Although between you and me I wonder why you show her as much loyalty as you do...considering all things.'  
  


'Because I can't forget the past, that's why. And you'd well remember, despite her misgivings, that she is still the mother to your son.' replied Cullen darkly 'And we will leave it at. Am I understood?'  
  


Jowan nodded tiredly, more disinterested than anything. 'Leliana will be out of the way, that is all that counts. The Chantry will never find her there and give a few years she will most likely be soon forgot. Once a new Divine is appointed they will probably call off the search entirely. I will take Valahorn and provide him a life with as much normality as he ever dared hope for. I stand by that Cullen, Valahorn will be loved and raised in a stable environment. My days of less than reputable endeavours are well and truly behind me.'  
  


'All I can say is I hope that you mean that, for Valahorn's sake.' replied Cullen, emptying the bottle of mead in several gulps. Looking up, he added darkly 'And yours. Valahorn may not be my son but never forget that I loved him as one. And no matter the failings of Leliana, that child is still her son also. Out of respect to her, and him, I will make sure you keep your word and raise him properly.'  
  


'And I take no offence to that well intended threat.' acknowledged Jowan 'The moment I realised Valahorn was my own flesh and blood changed everything. I cannot convince you of that Cullen, I know that, but you will see in time my words are true. My selfish desires have all but evaporated and in their place is a responsibility and love that I will bestow upon my son. You have my word.'  
  


'You cannot take him with us when we get Ophelia.' warned Cullen 'On the off chance that this all falls to pieces you need Valahorn well and truly away from danger. And with someone that will take care of him.'  
  


Jowan appeared sheepish, as if unwilling to reveal his sources. 'Of course, I plan to arrange that soon.'  
  


'Who is this person?' asked Cullen suspiciously, suspecting he would not approve. He crossed his arms and glared at the mage, refusing to let the matter slide as Jowan remained quiet.  
  


Jowan finally rolled his eyes in defeat. 'Fine. Well first keep in mind that I have little to no one to trust with such an important task as this. And its not like I'm asking a small favour. Asking someone to babysit the Divine's kidnapped child while I go steal away the Queen of Ferelden is a big ask. You know?'  
  


'Who?' asked Cullen sharply.  
  


'Varric.' replied Jowan 'He's the person I suspect will least likely report me to the guards after I confess my plan to him.'  
  


The templar groaned.   
  


'Have you got a better suggestion?' asked Jowan irritably.  
  


'Oh I don't know, how about someone that isn't the loosest pair of lips Skyhold.' mused Cullen 'Our plan will be published and ready for sale before daybreak. You do realise that?'  
  


'We can trust him.' reassured Jowan.  
  


Cullen appeared unconvinced. 'We'll see soon enough. And what about this mage of yours? Have you spoken to him? The one that is going to help us. What's his name? Gibsy? Grunty?'  
  


Jowan nodded. 'For two hundred gold pieces Gronty has agreed to attack some of the Redcliffe guards at a time that we will determine.'  
  


'For no good reason he's going to just attack the guards?' chuckled Cullen 'It will appear a little staged, don't you think?'  
  


'Gronty plans to find some guards off duty at The Grey Wardens' Rest Tavern. You know, the one at the top of the hill in Redcliffe Village. He'll pretend he's drunk and make a few ill advised strikes and insult hurling. Naturally he won't stop until he's been arrested and thrown into the Redcliffe cells. At that point I will send word via courier to Ophelia in Denerim that Gronty has been arrested and seeks an audience with her immediately. She knows Gronty from the Mage Guild, they were friends. And we both know Ophelia won't abandon him if he needs help. She'll be in no doubt the matter is urgent if I stress the importance of seeing him in the prisons as soon as she can. Then we wait until she arrives at Redcliffe. I've instructed Gronty what to do from there.'  
  


'Two hundred gold pieces for one bar fight? I'm in the wrong profession.' chortled Cullen.  
  


'I'm certain he would have done that for a free ale at The Cock and Bull.' observed Jowan dryly 'No, the gold is for his silence. We cannot have anyone trace you or I to the disappearance of the queen. Or Leliana. Or Valahorn. Gronty will never say a word about any of it.'  
  


'When we disappear it will be obvious enough.' pointed out Cullen 'Despite my resignation from the Templars and Right Hand being public knowledge soon enough, people will wonder why I have disappeared completely and for what reason. And conveniently at the very same time that Ophelia runs away from Ferelden.'

'Have you told anyone that you are leaving the Chantry and the Templar Order?' asked Jowan quietly.

Grunting at the comment, Cullen nodded. 'A well performed routine for Leliana. She took the bait and thinks I am off to South Reach soon. Irrespective of that, when she goes missing who do you think people will think is responsible?'  
  


Jowan shrugged. 'You left the Order and went your own way. No one would suspect anything else, aside from Alistair perhaps?'

'Oh good, so only the King of Ferelden then.' chuckled Cullen bitterly 'Have you told anyone yet that you intend to leave?'

'This morning I advised my mages, yes.' replied Jowan. There was regret in his voice, as if he was going to miss that part of his life. 'Fiona has accepted to take over in my place. So you see Cullen we will be soon forgot. Perhaps everyone will think you and I have run away together?'  
  


Jowan grinned at the Commander rolling his eyes.  
  


'Well we are, arent we?' replied Cullen dryly 'Who would have thought?'  
  


Noticing Cullen's concerned expression, Jowan felt an obligation to reassure the man. 'When Ophelia is with us you will look back at this moment and wonder why you worried as much as you did. We will have nothing to fear as long as we all stay away from Ferelden until Alistair remarries. Which he will, most likely sooner that we anticipate. His council will encourage him to do when they realise Ophelia has fled, and when Alistair remarries no one will be too concerned about the woman who was Queen of Ferelden for several months or so. She too will be forgotten, and so will we. And in this lovely space of forgetting we shall build the foundations to our new lives. Me with my son, and you with Ophelia.'  
  


'Yes but the Chantry will not forget Leliana or Valahorn so quickly.' frowned Cullen 'If you are certain that the Free Marches is our only safe destination at present, then we find ourselves at great risk of being seen along the way. Someone will see us.'  
  


'Of all the places to hide oneself, the Planasene Forest in the Free Marches is the place to be.' Jowan declared 'Before I found the Nephilim Realm I lived there in the forest for a while when I had no other place to hide. The templars were chasing me, as was the Ferelden guard, and it was there in the Planasene that I came across a malificar who agreed to mentor me. So isolated is this cabin that you would never hope to meet another living soul for the rest of your days.'  
  


'Maker's breath, you're taking us to live in a fucking malificar's hut.' groaned Cullen, rubbing his palms against his eyes in frustration. 'Of course you are!'  
  


'Charles Quillor is a brilliant mage.' replied Jowan, ignoring the judgement from his companion. 'He was forced into hiding himself because his practices were considered...ill favoured by some.'  
  


Cullen scoffed. 'And by some, you mean all respected citizens of the realm. So how do we know this mage isn't going to show up at his house and blast us all to pieces?'  
  


'You forget that it was my home once, he's welcomed me there. I've sent word to Vyrantium, where he now lives. Perhaps I failed to mention I would be bringing the Divine's child, the Knight Commander of the Templar Order and the Queen of Ferelden. But small details, such as they are. Charles has written back saying that I am welcome there, and with his reassurance of silence on the matter. Naturally such a request would appear unsurprising, considering our line of work.'  
  


'Then it's settled.' remarked Cullen 'We have a little time up our sleeves, I'll need a few weeks at the very least to tie up matters here. I'd rather two or three months but I know Ophelia has some damn fool plan of her own to escape. We shouldn't wait too long.'  
  


'Escape?' frowned Jowan 'Shouldn't we be worried that she will disappear before word reaches her of Gronty?'  
  


The Commander shook his head. 'In all honestly it's doubtful she'd be able to escape in several years let alone the next few weeks. She's the Queen of Ferelden and has guards following her day and night everywhere she goes. It's wishful thinking on Ophelia's part to believe she can hoodwink the palace at Denerim that easily and run off into the world unnoticed.'  
  


'A month from today?' suggested Jowan.  
  


'A month it is.' agreed Cullen.  
  


'Good that gives me time to sort out a few matters also.' resided Jowan 'After that, I will take care of Leliana.'  
  


The templar's amber eyes grew serious. 'I want to be there when it happens.' he informed solemly 'It's the least she deserves.'  
  


Jowan raised an eyebrow. 'Are you sure about that? Nothing good can come from it.'  
  


'Leliana needs to know why this has happened and she needs to hear it from both of us.' replied Cullen 'No matter what she has done, I'm not proud to be taking a child from its mother and imprisoning her for life.'. Tapping his nail against the empty bottle, his agitation was apparent. 'I'm certain I will never forgive myself for doing this to her.'   
  


The mage shifted uneasily. 'I was thinking a well written note left in the cave would suffice, but if you desire to see her then I will see what I can do. Anything else?'  
  


The Commander grabbed Jowan's empty wine cup on the table and stood up abruptly. 'Yes, I believe another drink would help. We need to toast this moment. Wine?'

'A toast to being hermits.' mused Jowan cynically 'Yes, make it a good one.'  
  
  


****  
  


‘Hey, we’re sitting there!’ yelled out a mage, eyeballing a templar that had sat down at a table in the crowded tavern. 'Go find yourself another table.'  
  


The templar appeared surprised at being spoken to by the mage in such a manner. ‘You daft? This table is empty.’ retorted the templar, plonking himself down on the wooden bench and slamming his flagon on the table. 'First in best dressed magey.'  
  


‘We’re playing darts over here but we’re sitting there.’ snapped another mage, a dart in her hand poised a little threateningly.  
  


‘Well you aint sittin here so you aint sittin here.’ yelled out another templar that joined the table with his friend. ‘Go play yer darts and leave us be.’  
  


The atmosphere in the tavern grew heavy as the mages ceased their game and turned to the table, gathering around the table where the three templars remained steadfast.  
  


‘I said that’s our table.’ warned the first mage, his voice threatening.   
  


Hand on swords the templars stood up, ready and eager for a brawl. ‘Fucking come and get it then.’ the templar chuckled, spitting at the feet of the mage before him. 'See what happens when you fucking lot aren't locked up in a tower. Turn into a bunch of devils.'  
  


The mages sneered at the comment, and several rolled up their sleeves preparing to cast some magic.  
  


Both parties were out for blood and it was all but over except for a loud banging of a ladle against a copper pot distracting them. They turned in surprise to see an irate Varric standing on the bar. Angrily he pointed his stubby finger at the group of mages and templars.   
  


‘Oh nooooo you don't. Not in here. Not now. Not ever.’ warned Varric sternly ‘Get out, the lot of ya. Drinking time is over.’  
  


The templars thrust their hands to the mages. 'Varric they started this shite. You should be kicking em out, not us.'  
  


The mages chortled at this comment. 'Varric, you say you support the mages and then let this rabble in? I thought you were on our side?'  
  


'Your side?!' yelled one of the templars 'No one in their right fucking mind would be on your side. Varric's a mate, he's on our side.'  
  


Clutching his hair in frustration, Varric pointed to the door. 'I'm on no ones side. Templar. Mage. Sod off the lot of you!'. Furiously the dwarf waited as the two groups dragged themselves out, cursing at the innkeeper as they passed.   
  


'Yeah yeah, and good riddance!' yelled out Varric, watching them leave. Spotting Jowan at the entrance of the tavern, he waved him in.   
  


It appeared that Jowan had been watching the spectacle for the stairs, waiting for the groups to leave. With a small smirk on his face and a skip in his step, he approached the dwarf.   
  


‘Cursing mage and templar alike, are we?' remarked Jowan 'Good to know you’re giving the mages the equality they seek.’  
  


Varric groaned. ‘Riddles I’ve warned you all that this mage and templar gig is going to be the death of us. No joke, we're all dead. It’s Kirkwall all over again, except this time my bar is going to be the damn place that is blown up.’. Grabbing a bottle of spirits and two shot glasses from the shelf, he slumped into a chair by the bar and poured heavily. ‘Here.’ he muttered, pushing a glass towards the mage. ‘If I’m drowning my sorrows, you’re drowning with me. This ship's going down.’  
  


Jowan grimaced at the sight of the blue liquid. ‘The last time I drank Sea Shine I woke up wearing a top hat.’  
  


‘Could be worse.’ muttered Varric.  
  


‘Only a top hat.’ sighed Jowan, taking a seat beside Varric ‘Not my finest hour. Nor my hat, come to think of it?’  
  


The rogue chuckled, pointing to the bar. ‘I have wine for the weaker drinkers?’  
  


Examining the blue liquid with scrutiny, Jowan grabbed the glass tentatively. ‘Sea Shine.' he remarked 'Created by Captain Mallydon when his ship lost wind for several weeks. Stuck with a cargo of maize and sugar, he invented the harsh spirit Sugar Shine to pass the time. The moment the liquid touched his lips it's said the wind hit the sails once more.'

'Yeah but by that time the crew had all passed out on the deck and no one could sail the damn thing.' chuckled Varric.

Jowan shrugged. 'Cheers.’. He sipped at the liquid and winced, causing Varric to laugh more.   
  


‘Ah buck up Riddles, it’s good for you. Put some hair on that pasty chest.’ grinned the dwarf.  
  


‘So is that your secret then?’ quipped Jowan, taking another small sip. 'Some of us prefer the less shaggy look.'  
  


Varric downed his glass in a deep gulp, pouring another before the mage had placed his glass down. ‘You know what’s funny?' remarked Varric dismally 'I thought here I was finally safe from that lot of templars and mages. Let me tell ya Riddles, what happened in Kirkwall all those years ago was shit. Plain and simple. So shit in fact that I was happy to leave my favourite city of all time and come join you lot at the Inquisition. You know, start afresh. Anything to forget about seeing half of Kirkwall massacred in the street.’. Downing another shot, Varric poured another. ‘And for a while there I was convinced I escaped from that hell storm unscathed. Lucky break for this handsome rogue. Good for me.’. Lifting the glass to his lips, he drank the liquid in another quick gulp. The rogue rubbed his face, shaking his head as he laughed bitterly. ‘But this pit in my stomach boils every time I see a mage or a templar, and now I know the reason behind it.'  
  


'Madame Ruthie's Thursday night stew?' mused Jowan.  
  


Varric shook his head, pouring another drink. 'I wish. No. I began to see the mages and templars with that glint of hate in each other's eyes. Like old times. And it was at that moment that it dawned on me. These mages. These templars. They scare the shit out of me Riddles and I aint ready to go there again. Not for all the good business in the world. What's the point if we all wind up dead?’  
  


'A dire prediction if ever there was one.' observed Jowan, raising his brow to the dwarf. 'You know I think if you just allocated more tables here to the mages and templars you'd be fine.'  
  


Varric refused to laugh. He was too glum.  
  


‘Of course it was a terrible decision to allow the templars to join the mages here.’ acknowledged Jowan 'Not that anyone asked my opinion before the matter was decided. I'm only the head of the Order, what would I know? Given the volatility already brewing you would be justified to be fearful of days ahead.’. Lifting his dark eyes to the dwarf, Jowan added quietly. ‘It’s the reason some of us will soon be leaving here. For good.’  
  


A surprised Varric dropped his glass on the table with a thud. ‘Shit Riddles, you’re leaving?’  
  


Jowan nodded. ‘And Cullen. And Ophelia. And Valahorn.’  
  


Cringing at the reply, Varric held his hands up in protest. ‘No, Riddles. No no no no. NO. Tell me you forgot to add Leliana to that list. And while you're at it, please tell me you forgot Ophelia is the Queen of Ferelden. Please tell me you and Curly aren't about to do something straight up foolish to add to this old rogue's woes?’  
  


The mage remained serious as he sipped his Sea Shine. 'A lot has happened that you do not know about.'  
  


Sitting up in his seat, Varric appeared suddenly energised by the promise of gossip. ‘Well heck you gotta tell me now! Sounds like one hell of a tale.’   
  


Jowan sighed, pouring himself another drink. ‘Stories are generally made up, and all that I have to say on the matter is the truth. Either way, get ready for a ride that will knock your socks off.’

  
  


****  
  


Michel de Chevin,

  
  


Your services are no longer required in my service. You are required to leave Denerim Palace immediately and return to Orlais. You are to cease any contact with the Queen of Ferelden under penalty of imprisonment. Any further discussion on the matter would be ill advised.

  
  


Do not return to Ferelden ever again.

  
  


His Royal Highness,

  
  


Alistair Theirin

  
  


Looking up in surprise, Michel caught the eye of the uneasy courier that had handed him the letter. It was late at night, and by the weathered look of the courier's clothes it appeared he had been riding hard to deliver it.   
  


'The king wrote this?' asked Michel doubtfully, examining the letter with scrutiny. 'Are you certain about that?'  
  


Shuffling in his steps, the messenger looked to his feet rather than meet the clear blue eyes of the chevalier. 'King Alistair himself handed me the letter from his current post in Ostagar this afternoon.' replied the courier uncomfortably, pausing uneasily to turn his attention behind him.   
  


A few moments passed before two large guards appeared at the door. They remained silent and watchful, as if waiting to perform their instructions.   
  


'His Majesty requests that you be escorted from the palace without delay.' added the messenger 'A carriage awaits outside and we have our orders to escort you there immediately.'  
  


'What? Right now? But it's nightfall!' exclaimed Michel.  
  


To say the Orlesian was surprised would have been an understatement. He smiled, laughing a little uncomfortably as he waited for one of the men before him to break into hysterics and confess they were playing a joke on him. However it was soon apparent they were being serious. Wise enough not to press the matter, Michel knew he should oblige no matter how much he desired answers.   
  


'Then I will pack my chests immediately. You may wait outside until then.'  
  


Swiftly the ex-chevalier closed the door, turning to his wardrobe to withdraw his sword and keep safely at his side. If Alistair was dismissing him so abruptly then he was in no doubt that the king knew about him and Ophelia. What other possible reason could there be for such an unceremonious dismissal from the palace?   
  


Pulling waistcoats, trousers, cravats and silken shirts from his wardrobes, he flung them into his chest with a furrowed brow. Michel knew he should be thankful he wasn't being escorted to the gallows, but gratitude was the last thing he was feeling at that moment.   
  


It was time to leave the palace, but the chevalier did not intend to return to Orlais.   
  


Not without finding Ophelia first.   
  


****

  
  


'Well knock me down with a feather!' exclaimed an almost speechless Varric. Pulling hard on the thick gold chain around his neck, the dwarf was shocked at what Jowan had just revealed to him. Of how Leliana had deceived Cullen and Jowan, and all for a prophecy of a child that seemed delusional at best.  
  


The mage nodded. 'That is somewhat of how I felt when I found out the truth.'  
  


'I always knew Nightingale has some issues but to trick you into handing over ahem you know, your keys to the kingdom just because of some dream she had...'. His brown eyes looked up to the mage. 'Heck Riddles, you've got a son with Leliana.'  
  


'It appears that I do.' replied Jowan quietly. There was something in his expression that appeared saddened by Varric's observation. The mage lifted the cup of wine to his lips and sipped, trying to numb the pain. 'I have a son that I've never even held in my arms. Never beheld his face up close or smelt the skin on his forehead. Valahorn has never seen his real father with his own eyes.'  
  


The dwarf patted the mage sympathetically on the arm. 'Sorry mate. That's gotta be rough.'  
  


Taking another sip of his wine, Jowan waved the pity away. 'I should count myself lucky that I found out at all. If it weren't for Morrigan I would have never known the truth.'  
  


Varric scoffed at the observation. 'Yeah she's definitely something. Kinda was apart of the problem though, you gotta admit? I mean if Morrigan didn't work her magic in the first place, Leliana would have never had your child.'  
  


'Knowing Leliana she would have ended up keeping me in a cage until I gave her what she wanted.' replied Jowan bitterly 'Hateful wench. The woman uses people to her own advantage with a callous hand. Look at the way she has made Cullen and I dance to her tune. Varric, that is why I need your help. I cannot trust anyone else here. Will you look after Valahorn while we get Ophelia?'  
  


Varric rubbed his stubble, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. 'I mean, you know I'm always happy to help my friends but...well...''  
  


'Well what?' pressed Jowan.  
  


'Well...' continued Varric uneasily '...it's just that Nightingale is one scary lady. You know, the kind that will kill you if you cross her. And being an assassin and all. Its just...well, if she gets wind that I helped kidnap her son-'  
  


'I told you that she will be taken care of by then.' interjected Jowan 'You have my word. I swear she will be gone by then.'  
  


'Yeah in this realm of yours.' observed Varric cynically 'But what if she escapes? She'll soon interrogate everyone in this damn keep until she finds someone that goes oh yeah I remember Varric dissapearing for a few days there when Valahorn went missing. Then bang, you got one dead rogue on your hands.'  
  


'It's not going to happen.' reassured Jowan 'No one can escape this realm except for me. It's impossible.'  
  


'Nothing's impossible kid.' argued Varric 'And we both know Leliana has connections with people in high up places, resurrecting her and all that jazz. Come on Riddles, do you really want to cross someone who's best buddies with the Maker?!'  
  


Crossing his arms in irritation, Jowan glowered at the dwarf. 'Let us pretend for a moment that the Maker does actually exist, what exactly are you expecting to happen? That the Maker will transport Leliana from the fade on a fluffy white cloud?'  
  


'Anything could happen?' Varric replied.  
  


'Well that's very philosophical of you, but in this case it is untrue.' stated Jowan. 'I mean it. Do you really think Cullen or I would risk a plan where Leliana might escape? I'm betting we're a little more uneasy about her than you are. We've crossed our t's and dotted our i's. This is a foolproof plan.'  
  


The dwarf grabbed his shot glass and downed it in one gulp. 'Famous last words.' he muttered. Groaning at the mage, who was waiting calming for a reply, Varric nodded. 'Fine. FINE. I'll look after the kid while you rescue Sparrow. But if I end up with a Chantry blade in my gut one of these days this ghost is coming for you.'  
  


'Is that a promise?' grinned Jowan.  
  


Varric grabbed the near empty bottle of Sea Shine, ready to finish the lot. 'It's a guarantee.'


	107. The Imprisoned

Drunken roars and dogs barking mingled with the stale scent of ale, piss and salty sea air. The soft clang of a ships bell sounded in the distance, calling to the harbour master as it made its way to dock. The port village of Jader was settling in for another night and amongst the gambling, drinking and whoring, one man appeared very much out of place.  
  


Drawing up the collar of his brown woollen travelling coat, Michel paced the boardwalk between inebriated sailors, wenches trading petticoat, and urchins ready to pick a pocket. A few late night fishermen cursed the ruckus as they hoped for a final bite, yelling obscenities into the night that would no doubt have scared away the fish in Kirkwall. Michel continued along the boardwalk and finally came to the end of a pier, looking out at the murky dark water before him. Too restless to sit in his lodgings and too disconcerted to drink his worries away in the tavern, the chevalier had resided to glumly watch the Waking Sea and hope a solution would come to him.   
  


After two nonstop days of travel in his escort carriage from Denerim Palace, Michel had been ejected from the vehicle with not so much as an adieu. The chevalier had asked the coachmen numerous times to deliver him to Redcliffe, and after numerous times being ignored, the chevalier resided to being dropped off in the closest Orlesian town to the border of Ferelden.   
  


Jader.   
  


It was there that Michel found himself as evening fell upon the realm, still desperately wondering what events had occurred that led him to being driven from the kingdom of Ferelden. Did Ophelia tell Alistair about their affair? Or did Alistair somehow find out another way?  
  


Michel knew the safest option would have been for him to return to his manor in Montsimmard and let matter settle. But without knowing whether Ophelia was safe or not, Michel found himself compelled to stay. Any attempt to go to Redcliffe would be met with hostility, and yet he was certain Ophelia would still be there whilst Alistair addressed the dark spawn issue in the south. He needed to reach her, but how?  
  


Michel's expression darkened as he turned away from the water and lifted his eyes to the grey mountains in the distance.   
  


'Skyhold.' he murmured.   
  


Soft droplets of water began to fall from the dark skies, splattering on the wooden pier. Swiftly Michel turned his heel and headed for The Copper Coin Tavern. It was time for a meal and well rested sleep before the journey ahead.

  
  


****

  
  


Three weeks had passed since arriving at Redcliffe and for three painful weeks I had had the pleasure of eating breakfast, lunch and dinner at a large and empty banquet table with one other person. Arl Eamon Guerrin.   
  


Habits of the Arl that in previous days had passed unnoticed me now made my blood boil. Small things, such as the arrogant manner he slurped his leek soup loudly as if no one else was present. Or the irritating way he cut up his meat into tiny pieces to dip into his goblet of red wine before devouring it, always managing to splash and stain the crisp white tablecloth we ate off. More often than not he would crumble his bread messily on the table when buttering it, and then purposely brush the breadcrumbs from the table onto the floor, as if indifferent to the fact that some poor servant would have to pick out the food from the threads of the carpet after every meal. The Arl acted like a spoilt king, and treated me with the same indifference that he bestowed to the servants who danced around him. To him I was not a queen, only a nuisance that he had to endure. Some unwanted guest who had outstayed their welcome. As I silently fumed at the arrogance of the man I lost count of the number of times I wanted to scrunch up my napkin and hurl it across the table at his head.   
  


Concerned for my safety, or so he professed, Eamon forbade me from leaving the castle. That was his first direct order acting as regent while the king was away. The Arl claimed it was for my own well-being but I knew otherwise. In Eamon's head he most likely believed the moment I was alone I would be procuring another stash of Pennyroyal and downing it. And perhaps he had every right to fear that, for had I the opportunity I would have done so.   
  


So stuck in Redcliffe castle as I was, I found myself with very little to do. The thrill of having thirteen of Teagan's mabaris stealing my socks soon wore off, as did bumping into the broody knights that lingered in the main hall and discussed official matters of the crown with anyone except me. I found it strange, and then down right insulting, that as Queen I was being kept in the dark about crown matters. To the men in the castle I was viewed as just another one of the weaker sex, whose place was in the home rather than the council.   
  


To add further insult Eamon appointed me with two ladies-in-waiting to attend to me. The first was a noblewoman named Margaret Banathor, who's husband was apparently some distant relation to the Arl. A prudish elderly woman whose neat grey hair was always pinned up tight with too many pearl pins. She found delight in chastising the maids and wiping her finger along any surface she could find for the slightest trace of dust. The second lady-in-waiting was a person that Teagan had recently been courting; a noblewoman named Beatrice Locksburn. She was beautiful but painfully insincere, appearing more interested in advancing her own opportunities rather anything else. Jealously she would compliment the lace on my dress or the pearls around my neck, remarking at how splendid they were with a dragon tooth smile that told me she was not pleased at all.   
  


On instructions from the Arl I found the women to be exceedingly attentive, and watchful, always ensuring they were in my company the moment I left my chambers for the day. I could only assume that Eamon had instructed them to do that also.   
  


Growing frustrated with the situation I soon gave up and spent most of the time in my room reading or scribbling pictures of Skyhold in a brown leather bound journal. Sometimes I would draw the main hall and imagine I was there again, eating a bannock with a cup of tea at mid morning. Other times I would draw images of a sleeping naked Commander in my bed, his loose sandy waves spilling over his face as he slept and his large thighs spread flat against our feather bed mattress. The charcoal ran over the outline of his buttocks one too many times, before moving on to add that exquisite definition to his back muscles. You didn't have to be an art critic to know the pictures weren't of Alistair. I secretly hoped Beatrice and Margaret found these pictures and showed Eamon, if only to infuriate him further.   
  


At the table that morning Eamon was sitting at the same end as he usually did, and I sat bored as usual at the other. Scooping the lumpy porridge and then dropping it back in cold clumps in my bowl, I sighed heavily. Everything was so painfully....tedious.   
  


Eamon's eyes stirred from concentrating on cracking the hard boiled egg before him. With spoon midair ready to strike, he paused to throw me a fake smile.   
  


'So what is on the agenda today, my Queen?' he asked politely, albeit patronising as ever. 'Your ladies tell me that you do not know how to embroider?'  
  


There was a reason for that. Aside from the complete lack of interest on my behalf, I was pretty sure you couldn't seal a rift or kill a fade demon with a tapestry.  
  


'Yes that's right.' I answered flatly.  
  


'Well we must remedy that!' concurred Eamon 'All noblewomen in Ferelden take delight in embroidery, and are very talented in the art. We can't have the Queen of Ferelden unable to embroider now, can we? Perhaps you can do a tapestry of Redcliffe castle? Or the gardens? I'm sure it will please Alistair when he returns.'  
  


Rolling my eyes, I went back to dripping porridge from my spoon into the bowl. 'Any news from Ostagar?' I asked 'How are the soldiers coping with the dark spawn?'.

It pained me to always have to ask Eamon for updates but the truth was Alistair had sent me no letters, so I was obliged to ask the Arl about all matters.   
  


Returning to his cracked egg, the Arl began to slurp the wobbly yolk. 'I am told the Wardens arrived a few days ago, and Alistair is certain they will have the area cleared of dark spawn before too long. These are not matters you should worry about. Alistair will be back before we know it.'  
  


Perfect. After the chilly warning Alistair had left me, I wasn't keen on seeing the man for a while. The hostility in his manner revealed a different side of the man that I never wanted to see again. 

Bright rays of sunlight fell on the table and I noticed the promising day outside the window, Placing my spoon gently in my bowl I looked to Eamon, mustering a smile. 'I was thinking of taking a walk to the lookout of the corn fields in the village today? I've been cooped up in the castle for weeks, I really do need to stretch of my legs.'  
  


The Arl threw me a painfully insincere smile. 'My apologies. Although I would love to say yes but I am sworn to protect you, especially when darkspawn are potentially running lose in Ferelden.'  
  


'In Ostagar.' I corrected him bluntly 'The darkspawn are in Ostagar. Which is far south of Ferelden last time I heard. Not mid-west all the way out here in Redcliffe.'  
  


Eamon shrugged. 'You can never be too careful in such circumstances. Alistair would never forgive me if something were to happen to you whilst out on some trifle walk.'  
  


Kicking back my chair, I stood up angrily. 'How long are you going to keep this up, Eamon? Am I queen or your prisoner? Because honestly I can't tell these days.'  
  


'Until the king returns you will stay inside.' he replied calmly, cracking his second egg with a precise tap of his spoon. 'Alistair himself wrote to me and instructed this again the other day.'. The Arl pointed his spoon at me, adding sternly 'And for no visitors to be permitted.'  
  


My skin crawled at this last remark and rendered me speechless. Had Alistair told Eamon about Michel and I?   
  


'Don't think I'll forget this.' I growled, throwing my napkin on the table. Turning to leave the room, I nearly bowled over Margaret and Beatrice who were standing in the adjoining room, no doubt waiting until I had finished breakfast. Appearing a little flustered, they curtsied.   
  


'He's in there if you want to teach him how to embroider.' I yelled at them angrily, marching off towards my room. 'Just leave me be.'


	108. Shadow Passes, Light Remains

With the inimical atmosphere intensifying, Skyhold had shifted from once being a place of comradery to now being one of growing hostility. Neither templar nor mage appeared content with sharing the keep, and as a general rule of thumb the Orders were eager to remain apart at all times. This of course was entirely impossible, and as time went on it became painfully apparent to all.

On a windswept brisk afternoon the templars had gathered in the courtyard. A sea of blue shields and steel, they stood strong and united as one. Unlike the mishmash of soldiers from the Inquisition, of whom comprised peasants, mercenaries, farmers and shop keepers, the templars were an army of skilled warriors. Every templar had painfully endured a life of modesty and hard work, all in the name of the Maker and the Chantry. Their willpower was unyielding and their devotion infallible.

Line after line of templars stood still as stone, their attention fixated on their Knight-Commander before them. Their minds were focused and their blades at the ready. Knight-Commander Cullen held a long sword in his hand, the silver blade lying flat on his palm as he revealed the weapon to the group.

'Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed Nomini tuo da gloriam.' called out Cullen 'Not unto us, O Maker, not unto us, but unto thy Name give glory.'

With pride in their voices, the men and women called back in unison; Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed Nomini tuo da gloriam.

Pressing the hilt of his sword against his armoured breast, Knight-Commander Cullen bowed his head in reverence before lifting the hilt to his lips and kissing the metal lightly. ‘Transit umbra, lux permanent.’ he murmured.

Shadow passes, light remains.

Cullen’s amber eyes lifted up, beholding the templars before him one last time as their Knight-Commander. In his heart he felt no sadness in leaving the Order, only an echo of joy that he hoped to follow on his own terms. Turning towards a man waiting beside him, Cullen threw him a warm smile. It was his faithful friend and fellow templar.

'I present the Knight Commander’s sword to you, Knight-Commander Rylen.’ announced Cullen, his deep voice strong and determined. ‘May its strength guide your hand, and steady it, as you lead as Head of the Templar Order.'

With a respectful bow, Rylen accepted the sword as the templars began to clap. Rylen turned to the group and held the weapon up, blade pointing to the clouded sky above.

'Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed Nomini tuo da gloriam.' he called out to the group.

In a wave of cheering, Cullen and the templars applauded Rylen as he stood before them. Armoured and equipped as the Head of the Order, he looked the part of the Knight-Commander. They all knew he would play the part even better. With the ceremony now complete the crowd dispersed, and with smiles and congratulations the men and women came over to shake their Knight-Commander’s hand.

Leaning against the wall with arms crossed, Cullen watched on with a small smile on his lips. A cool breeze swept over the courtyard, refreshing as it swept away the ties that he had felt bound to all these years. He was finally free.

After every hand was shaken, the new Knight Commander turned to greet his smiling companion by the wall.

'You look awfully pleased for someone who just stepped down from my newly appointed position.' observed Rylen with suspicious grin 'Something you’re not telling me?'

'You were Knight-Commander before today.' chuckled Cullen, waving his hand. 'This here is a mere formality. We all know how much you love a good show Rylen.'

Rylen scoffed. 'No we all knew all too well that you were the official poster boy for Knight-Commander and Head of the Order. Hence why you possessed this damn heavy blade. Antivan steel is it? It’s rubbish!’

‘Silver.’ corrected Cullen, eyeing the sword with amusement ‘My advice is don’t bring it with you into battle. Ironically decorative swords are far less spectacular when you’re knee deep in corpses and fighting for your life.’

‘Point taken.’ Rylen laughed, sheathing the blade at his side. ‘Now I've got the sword and title, I'm wondering what I've got myself in for?'

Cullen chuckled, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm. 'Oh Rylen, you’ve got a whole lot of work, stress, annoying questions and late hours ahead!'. Patting the man on the back, the Commander nodded seriously. 'There's no better man for the job. Gives me great piece of mind knowing I’m handing the reins over to someone as worthy as yourself. You deserve to lead the Order, and the Order deserves to have you.'

'Thank you my friend,' replied Rylen sincerely 'although we are all saddened to see you leave. For all that you've done for the Order and the realm. It doesn’t feel right that you leave us now.'

The Commander shrugged, crossing his arms once more. Casting his amber eyes across the courtyard, he appeared at peace with his decision and held no regrets. ‘I came here to fight Corypheus and his followers, and now I can leave happily knowing that evil is rid of these lands. I have done my job.’. The ex-templar threw a solemn look to Rylen. 'Evil never disappears for too long. It will return and you will have to face it when it comes.'

Rylen frowned, as if he knew all too well what Cullen was implying. 'All I can do now is prepare our Order for the darker days ahead.’

‘Yes.’ agreed Cullen ‘If you want peace, prepare for war.’

‘If Kirkwall taught me anything it is that demons and mages go hand in hand.’ observed Rylen ‘We will be well prepared.'

'Meredith had her faults but I advise you not to be too lenient with these mages.' warned Cullen 'Friendship with the Mage Order will only lead to complacency and that is where the wound will fester. If you hold the leash too tight the mages will rebel, but loosen it too much and I fear the outcome may be much worse.'

The men paused to watch a group of mages pass the templars in the crowded courtyard. Their hostile expressions were evident as they pressed through the thick of the warriors, and the crowd quietened as they approached. Black robes swishing against the stone, they hastened their pace as they made their way to the Main Hall. Once again, the loud chatter from the templars recommenced.

'You're leaving at a very good time.' frowned Rylen, his brown eyes turning to his smirking companion. 'Now I know why. You bastard!'

Boisterously Cullen laughed, knowing all well that there was truth to the Knight-Commander's sentiments. Eager to rub salt in the wound he was about to reply, but the smile fell from his face as he noticed an Orlesian chevalier ascending the stairs that led down to the stables.

Without a moment's hesitation Cullen pressed on forward, pushing through a group of templars and several kitchen hands. Michel had already been approached by several people, who eagerly began chatting with the man. However Cullen was in no mood for civility when it came to this person.

'Michel why are you here?!' he interrupted, eyes casting over the ledge to the empty stables. 'Is Ophelia with you? What has happened?'

Politely Michel excused himself from the conversation with the templars, and turned to the Commander. Unlike his jovial self, Michel remained serious before Cullen. 'Cullen we need to talk immediately.'

'Maker's breath.' muttered the Commander, anticipating that whatever the chevalier had to say was not going to be good news. Running an agitated hand against his jaw, the ex-templar stood his ground. 'What has happened?' he asked in a lowered voice ‘Is Ophelia alright?’

The Orlesian shook his head, casting his eyes to the onlookers. 'Not here.' he replied in caution.

'Come then.' ordered Cullen, turning his heel swiftly.

Without another word the men crossed the courtyard and ascended the stairs of the battlements hastily, leading them to Cullen’s study. Before the door had barely closed behind them, Cullen drew up close to the Orlesian.

'Tell me what has happened? Is she alright? Why in the devil are you here?!'

The chevalier’s blue eyes were filled with concern as he looked to Cullen. 'Several days ago I was approached in my quarters at Denerim Palace by a royal messenger. He handed me this letter from Alistair himself.'

The chevalier reached into his pocket and withdrew the correspondence, handing it to the Commander. Patiently he waited as Cullen read over it.

Cullen skimmed the letter. Curiosity soon turned to anger, and then finally disgust. Scrunching up the paper the Commander threw the letter back at the chevalier.

'So he found out about you and her?' scorned Cullen, a furious glint in his eye. 'I warned her this would happen. Maker curse you! Have you any idea what this could mean?'

The Orlesian nodded quietly, placing the letter in his pocket once more. 'Without a proper explanation behind my dismissal we cannot jump to conclusions.'

Cullen shoved the Orlesian angrily on the shoulder, ready to lay his fist. 'You're fucking the king's wife!' the Commander growled ‘Do you really need a detailed explanation behind your dismissal when you're committing adultery and treason???!! He knows Michel. Alistair knows that you've been in his bed, you fucking lech!'

Enraged by the outburst, the Orlesian lifted his fist ready to defend himself. 'Do you think it was my wish to endanger her? I pleaded with her not to get involved with me for I knew it was too much a risk.'

Groaning, Cullen palms fell to his eyes in disbelief. 'Of course, how could I have been so stupid? You were helpless to Ophelia. You're the innocent party here. As always, you're never to blame.'

'No I accept my fault here. But we were careful.' added Michel defensively 'Painfully careful. I knew how much was at stake.'

'Yet here you are and where is Ophelia?' reproached Cullen, thrusting his hands out to the empty air. 'Is she imprisoned? How did you escape when clearly she didn't?'

'I was escorted from Ferelden the moment that letter was handed to me.' replied Michel sternly 'And that is why I am here. I don't know if Ophelia is safe or not. I know nothing except that she's at Redcliffe Castle. That is all I know.'

Appearing confused, Cullen frowned. 'Redcliffe? Why is she not in Denerim?'

'There were sightings of Darkspawn in Ostagar several weeks ago. From what I heard Alistair rode out from Redcliffe to clear them out of the area, leaving Ophelia to stay behind.’

‘Of course.’ nodded Cullen ‘As an act of good faith we sent fifty of our templars to aid the wardens with the darkspawn. So Ophelia’s been at Redcliffe this entire time then? We can only assume her rights have been restricted or she would have contacted us here at Skyhold.'

‘We must help her.' Michel implored 'I've come here to ask for your help because I know I cannot do this on my own.'

'As always, you've done quite enough.' growled Cullen.

'Cullen please.' implored the chevalier 'We do not like each other but we both share one common ground. We want Ophelia to be safe. I cannot do this on my own.'

The Commander appeared unconvinced at the man's sentiments. 'And then what? You'll ride into the Orlesian sunset with her? Risk her life once more as you both foolishly try to evade the Ferelden guard? If you wanted Ophelia safe you would have never followed her to Denerim in the first place.’

‘That is unfair.’ replied Michel angrily ‘You saw how crushed she was when the council decided that she marry Alistair. Such a tasteless act, even now I cannot comprehend how such a thing was agreed to. She was betrayed by everyone, and you especially.’. Looking at the man up and down in judgement, the chevalier pursed his lips in reproach. ‘A child with Leliana. How could she ever get over that? Ophelia was heartbroken. I promised her I would stay with her in Denerim because I cared for her. Where were you Cullen?’

The Commander banged his fist against the bookshelf angrily. Turning back to the man, he threw him a dark look. ‘You’re right, I should have been with her. But I confess that Alistair threatening to pull his men and women from our Inquisition armies just before the war horn held my leash a little tight.’

The chevalier sighed. 'My thoughts now are only of her safety. If you will help me I promise to leave the moment that she is safe. I will do that. If you can help me rescue Ophelia, I swear to go back to Orlais once this is over.'

The Commander chuckled bitterly at the comment, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Of course you will.'. Pointing a stern finger at the Orlesian, Cullen drew closer to the man. 'You stay here and do not breathe a word of this to anyone. If anyone asks, you have come here to inquire about a position. I will be back soon.'

'Where are you going?' asked Michel.

Cullen was already half way out the door, determined to address the matter immediately. 'There's a few people that need to know about this plan of ours. And there's one person in particular that I would seek to hide it from.'


	109. Mouths Full of Honey and Snakes in their Hands

Every afternoon when the long clock in the hall chimed four, Eamon took tea in the parlour. Come rain, hail or shine, the Arl of Denerim never missed his afternoon refreshment and it was always the same. Black tea with two sugars and a splash of milk, with one slice of wheat cake on the side. Having a demeanour that favoured schedule there was never a day that he varied from his four o’clock tea.

Anticipating the chime, Eamon paced his study in anticipation of enjoying a moment of peace with his warm beverage.

Running a kingdom from Redcliffe Castle had never been so taxing for the Arl. Naturally he had much experience in overseeing large parts of Ferelden, such as Redcliffe and now Denerim. However it was soon apparent that being responsible for the entire kingdom required a great deal of attention, even for the Arl. On top of that Eamon was lacking his papers, books, agreements, documents, maps and ledgers. Everything needed was back in Denerim, and the Arl was growing more and more frustrated at being kept away from the city. Delegation of work had also a problem when the royal counsel remained in Denerim. Upon his orders the counsel were riding to Redcliffe to aid the Arl but as yet they had not arrived. And so Eamon had spent another tireless day working hard and without any help.

_Tap, tap, tap._

A soft knocking at the door startled the Arl, and gruffly he made his way to open it. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he saw Margaret Banathor on the other side.

'My lady.' bowed Eamon, inviting the woman inside. 'What a pleasure to see you.'

'Eamon.' she replied. The elderly woman threw the Arl a polite nod, entering the room promptly. 'All goes well I hope?'

The Arl stretched his arms tiredly. 'I'm too old to be playing king, Margie. Too old and too understaffed.'. Turning back to his desk, he tapped a pile of papers stacked high. 'These here will take me a month to get through and they need to be sent out by the end of the week. Terrible week, just terrible.'

Running her finger along the mantelpiece, Margaret frowned upon finding her skin coated in a thick layer of dust. 'Your brother needs to fire his staff and appoint new ones. Redcliffe Castle was never this shabby when you were living here Eamon. You cannot have this fine establishment go to the dogs just because Teagan won’t marry.'

Eamon chuckled at the blunt observation. ‘What’s marriage got to do with the upkeep of Redcliffe Castle?’

‘It has everything to do with the proper upkeep of a Castle.’ replied Margaret promptly. The woman brushed her hands briskly, ridding herself of any dust that lingered. 'Isolde was a good mistress to this place. A very fine match, you and her. She knew how a proper household should be run and took interest in all matters involving it. The staff were of the highest standard and were always held accountable. She would be outraged to see it in such a state.'

‘Yes well luckily for us both Isolde is in Denerim and rather fond of attending to matters at our estate there.’ muttered Eamon.

Sensing Eamon's stress over his paperwork rather than the maintenance of the estate, the woman decided to quickly drop the matter. 'Well I believe I have some news that might give cause to some cheer.'

'I need it.' yawned Eamon, retiring to his desk. He picked up a letter from the pile and plonked it in front of him. 'Have my counsel arrived yet? Are they serving steak and kidney pie for dinner?'

'No.' replied Margaret crisply, taking a seat opposite the Arl.

Her graceful features did not fall unnoticed by the Arl, who lingered from his letter to admire the elderly women's high cheek bones and elegant neck.

'Tell me Eamon, how many weeks have you been here for?'

'I suppose three?' frowned Eamon, unsure of when he had arrived as it felt like all the days had blurred together since he came. 'It feels like a year has passed.'

'Four.' corrected Margaret 'It has been four weeks. And do you know what else has happened in that time?'

Completely baffled, Eamon shook his head. 'Haven't a clue Margie?'

The women nodded with a knowing smile. 'This entire time Her Majesty has not had her menses.'

At first the man was clearly embarrassed with the topic of conversation, turning his attention swiftly back to the letter with an uncomfortable cough. However moments later he realised what Margaret was implying and his brown eyes darted up eagerly to the women.

'Wait a moment. Are you saying-?'

Margaret nodded. 'We have every cause for celebration in assuming Queen Ophelia is finally with child.'

Cupping his mouth in absolute delight, Eamon chuckled uncontrollably. 'Goodness me! I am…I am shocked! Absolutely shocked! Are you certain Margie? I mean, can we be certain?'

'I suspect as much.' replied Margaret nonchalantly 'After you spoke to me about the whole Pennyroyal incident I was determined to find out from her chamber maid in Denerim when her courses usually came. Women in waiting should know these things. She wrote to me informing the Queen had bled a few days before she left for Redcliffe.'

'Maker be praised.' murmured Eamon, his eyes sparkling with delight 'Well that was six weeks ago at least?'

'Ophelia's chamber maid informed me she is as regular as clockwork. Every month. So this would mean...'. The old women smiled at the Arl.

'...finally we have a Theirin heir.' remarked Eamon breathlessly ‘The line is secured and the kingdom strong.’. Unable to contain his excitement, the Arl jumped up jovially. Shaking his hands, he tried to calm down. 'No no no, but it is too soon. We cannot know for certain.'

The women supressed a smile with entertained pursed lips. 'Always the pessimist, weren't you? The Queen is late, and you yourself mentioned that the king and queen had been sharing a bed on their trip. Yes?'

Eamon chuckled, nodding his head. 'Straight from the king’s mouth.'

‘And thanks to every servant in this castle being very diligent in ensuring our Queen has no access to any herbs, especially Pennyroyal, we know that there is no way she could have intervened.’. Margaret appeared pleased with herself on this matter. ‘I have worked very hard to put your mind at ease on that note Eamon.’

‘Thank you and the Maker!’ replied Eamon in gratitude. Still in disbelief, he continued to laugh. The otherwise reserved man was ecstatic and there was no containing it. 'What of Ophelia? Does she feel that she is with child? Has she said something?'

Margaret rolled her eyes. 'One can only assume the girl enjoys being blissfully ignorant about most matters. No, she's more concerned with moping about in her room than anything else. Not that I have talked to her of it, nor has she mentioned anything. I feel it is wise that we do not bring up the subject with her at present. But time always tells the truth Eamon, and we that have had children know of the tell-tale signs far earlier than those that have not.'

'Tell-tale signs?' queried Eamon 'Surely she's not craving sugared figs already?'

The women laughed, recollecting that was Isolde's craving when she was carrying Connor. 'No it is far too early for that. But being a lady in waiting we are more observant of features that may be unnoticed by others. Ophelia's rather dull skin is these days flush with a warm glow and her breasts are noticeable fuller. Small signs Eamon, small signs, but signs nevertheless.'

Ding......ding.......ding......ding.....

Eamon smiled as he heard the clock chime four times. Extending his hand, he warmly beckoned the woman to take it as he escorted her from his study.

'Come Margie, it's four o'clock. And today I think a glass of brandy for us both will do better than a silly old cup of tea!'

****

The heady smell of damp leather, drying blood, corroding iron and fresh mud filled the encampment that evening. Despite the sun shining nothing ever seemed to stay dry in the marshy Ferelden lowlands, and by nightfall everything was suitable drenched and emitting foul odours of an unspeakable nature.

After another day of fighting darkspawn, of whose numbers slowly dwindled, an exhausted king had retired to his tent for a well-earned warm supper.

Despite his belly roaring for food, Alistair idly picked at the bread and stew before pushing it away. When he was fighting the vile creatures out there he was distracted. He was fine. Yet the moment the flap of the tent fell behind him at night and he sat alone, images of Ophelia and Michel filled his head and made his heart beat savagely with anger.

'All that time in Denerim that they spent together, thick as thieves.' he muttered darkly ‘Lying to me all along.’

He felt the idiot and yet it was worse than that. Alistair felt this uncontrollable envy churning deep inside of him. He felt jealously hurt.

Had what Ophelia and he shared just been a ruse? Did Ophelia and Michel plan this from the beginning, before they had even left Skyhold? To be together and deceive Alistair right under his very nose?

A long list of questions filled his head, and the more he thought on it the longer the list grew. Consumed with the thoughts of his betrayal, the king barely noticed his uncle entering the tent.

'There he is!' remarked Teagan jovially, joining Alistair at his table. The man eased off his muddy boots off and threw them at the door of the tent. 'Oh, sorry about the dirt there. We deserve a good meal after today! Finally cleared out the Tower of Ishal, you know? That entire tower, top to bottom. I can't tell you how exhausting that was. Even found one of those blighters hiding in a wardrobe on the second floor! Scared me half to death when it jumped out. You have no idea.'

'I have some idea.' muttered Alistair.

The Arl of Redcliffe chuckled, pointing at his nephew in amusement. 'Oh that's right, I suppose you do!'. Noticing Alistair's uneaten plate, Teagan pointed at it. 'Lost your appetite there or is it rabbit again? Always with the bloody rabbit. You’d think the cook would shake it up a bit and serve a bit of ram every now and then. Personally I'd kill for a piece of fresh fish. We’ve got the Korcari Wilds at our doorstep and still all we get is bloody rabbit. You know they have some of the finest fresh water streams in Thedas? I’m betting there’s millions of juicy bream and trout waiting for us. What I wouldn’t give for a few rods and tackle, we’d made good sport of it you and I, eh?’. Unable to dismiss his nephew's now very obvious quietude, Teagan tilted his head curiously. 'Alistair, is everything alright?'

The king was about to dismiss the question but hesitated. Perhaps a second opinion would help him through this turmoil? Alistair tapped the table anxiously, finally looking to Teagan.

'Uncle tell me something. What are your thoughts about Ophelia?'

Grabbing a piece of bread from Alistair's plate, Teagan offered it to Alistair before ripping off some for himself.

'Well, you already know I think she's a very good choice. Considering her influence in the realm as Inquisitor.’ answered Teagan ‘Even now the people believe Ophelia was sent by the Maker. You just can't buy that kind of loyalty and respect, know what I mean?'. Taking a large bite of bread, he added politely 'And of course, excuse my directness, but she's a pretty girl. Smart with the magic. And you both seem happy when you’re together?'

Alistair meditated on Teagan's words, continuing to tap the table with his finger. 'And do you think she cares for me?' he asked quietly ‘Loves me?’

Teagan frowned. 'Well in any marriage love takes time. Unions are rarely made on love. But with any luck you'll both get there in the end.'

'Very diplomatically said.' replied Alistair dryly.

Knowing Alistair was upset about something, Teagan pressed him. 'Why the glum face lad? Has she said something?'

With a hardened expression, Alistair looked directly to Teagan. 'I have reason to believe Ophelia and Michel de Chevin have been intimate whilst staying at Denerim Palace. In fact, after something Commander Cullen mentioned in Skyhold I am now more certain of it than ever. My question is, what do I do?'

Teagan threw the bread on the table in disgust. ‘Well you damn well need to give that chevalier a good kick up the arse for one! Why is he still staying with you at the palace? Get rid of the frog eater!’

‘He’s not at the palace.’ muttered Alistair ‘I’ve already had my men escort him from Ferelden.’

The Arl appeared relieved. ‘Well good. Good! Personally I never liked the man. Orlesian’s have this manner about them that makes my skin crawl. Mouths full of honey and snakes in their hands.’

Worried lines on his forehead, the king was evidently stressed. ‘What would you do Teagan? She has betrayed me.’

Sighing, Teagan threw a sympathetic look to his nephew. 'I'm sorry Alistair, about all this. It can’t be easy for you.'. Contemplating what could be done, he frowned. 'Are you asking what I would do as a king? Or as a husband?'

Alistair shrugged. 'I have no idea. What would you do as a person?'

'Well,' pondered Teagan 'I suppose coming from a king's perspective, I would have every cause to punish them both in the most shameful of ways. Public humiliation. Imprisonment. Execution. It's all well within your right.'. He caught Alistair's surprised brown eyes looking at him at mention of such options. 'But...' continued Teagan gently '…as a person I would also remind myself that I took Ophelia away from a life of her own without her consent. I would remind myself that at my own coronation she was in fact romantically involved with Michel de Chevin. We all saw them together, if you recall? That ridiculous Orlesian prancing about all night in his white tailcoats.'

'Yes but they deceived me in my very own palace.' replied Alistair angrily 'I welcomed him there are a guest and he swore he would not get in the way. The moment that ring was placed on her finger she should have stopped her ties with that man. It is inexcusable!'

Teagan nodded seriously. 'I agree, she should have. Michel has done you wrong and Ophelia has done you wrong.'

'She was sleeping with me and with him.' added Alistair furiously, slamming his fist on the table. 'How am I supposed to forgive that?!'

'Did she tell you that?' asked Teagan.

'Not in so many words. Or any words really.' replied Alistair wearily 'We have not spoken of this yet.'

Appearing relieved, Teagan nodded in encouragement. 'Then you have not been given the entire story. Perhaps there is more to this? You must let Ophelia explain what has been going on or all that you have to go on is mere speculation?'

'You didn't see the guilt on her face when I left Redcliffe.' he muttered 'Eamon found Pennyroyal in her belongings back at Denerim. You only take that to rid yourself of a child. And to think the first time we laid together as man and wife was only days prior in Skyhold. Uncle it makes my blood boil.'

Teagan appeared surprised. 'Don't let Eamon hear that last part.'. Rubbing his red beard, the man shrugged. ‘Alright, just say she was using this Pennyroyal back at Denerim. For Michel, we’re guessing it was for Michel?’

‘Well it certainly wasn’t for me.’ scorned Alistair ‘We never lay together at Denerim. I told her I would never expect her to. Not after forcing her to marry me.’

Teagan threw a sympathetic look to the man. ‘That is very honourable nephew. Alright then, you said you both were shaking sheets at Skyhold though? Tell me, did Ophelia want to sleep with you then?'

'Yes,' affirmed Alistair 'she welcomed it more than eagerly.’. The king rubbed his neck defensively. ‘That’s what I don’t understand. That night was….wonderful. It was passionate and intense, and I believe we both shared something very special.'

Teagan rolled his hand, as if imploring his nephew to realise what that meant. 'Well....have you asked yourself why that is? If Ophelia was free not to play nug-a-nug with you, why the sudden change of heart? Why not continue to refuse you?'

The king sighed, his eyes lowering a little as if he felt ashamed. 'Because when we first met we were nothing more than strangers, yet as the months went on…I don’t know…..I guess we grew to know each other better. We became friends. She helped me with something very close to my heart in Skyhold. And then that night we both just knew the time was right. We both wanted each other. I swear it uncle, we both truly did.'

'Well it sounds like there is a little more to it than just her and Michel.' replied Teagan with a knowing tap of his nose. 'It sounds like Ophelia was starting to fall for you, and at Skyhold she finally let you into her heart where before it was otherwise closed.'

His expression softening a bit, Alistair chuckled. 'Why Teagan, I never knew you were such a romantic?'. Pausing, he grimaced. ‘Also referring to coitus as nug-a-nug is just….creepy. Very creepy.’

'Hah you love it!’ jeered the Arl ‘And you know lad, I know all about women. I've been with enough of them to know they don't welcome you into their bed unless they're interested in you or after your title and lands. Unfortunately for me it's usually the latter. But Ophelia already had your title, so that only leaves...'. With a knowing grin, Teagan once more tapped his nose.

'Perhaps I haven't seen the bigger picture here?' observed the king. Taking a deep breath, Alistair appeared more than a little relieved. 'Teagan, thank you. Really, I mean it. Thank you.'

Grinning, his uncle pulled the plate of stew before the king. 'You and Ophelia will work through this. Trust me, before long this will all be water under the bridge. Until then my advice is; eat your dinner!'

‘Yes sir.’ chuckled Alistair.

Finally smiling after so many weeks of nothing but frowns, Alistair pulled the plate before him and eagerly began to tuck into the rabbit stew.


	110. To Betray a King and Fight for a Queen

‘Mon dieu.’ muttered Michel, his blonde hair spilling over his brow. With hands resting against the window ledge, his blue eyes remained on the ground in disbelief. ‘Then it is true? Jowan was the father after all.’

Snapping his fingers at the chevalier, Varric nodded. ‘Exactly what I thought Goldilocks, complete kick in the-’. The dwarf paused. ‘Hold up, are you saying you actually knew about this already?’

With curtains drawn tightly shut and doors securely locked; Varric, Jowan, Cullen, and Michel had gathered together in Jowan’s study at the Mages Tower. Cullen had rallied the men together that evening, eager to update them. After being somewhat doubtful as to the privacy of his own study on the battlements, Cullen agreed to Jowan’s suggestion of meeting in the top room of the Mages Tower, a place where no prying ears could hopefully reach.

Turning somewhat accusingly to the mage, Michel appeared not as surprised as perhaps he should have. ‘I warned you, didn’t I?’ he chastised ‘I warned you that you couldn’t ignore the possibility that you were the father. At Alistair’s wedding banquet the matter was clearly raised and what did you do? You walked off and told us never to speak of it.’

‘Seriously Riddles, you knew?’ asked Varric in surprise. The dwarf whistled in surprise. ‘Kinda something you should have mentioned.’

Cullen glared at the mage in displeasure. ‘Yes, please explain yourself.’

Jowan narrowed his eyes in displeasure, turning back to the chevalier. ‘Forgive me for giving Leliana the benefit of the doubt and believing she was telling the truth about the father. She assured me that much.’

‘An act of sheer folly!’ dismissed Michel ‘Alistair and I went through this with you and by the dates alone it was apparent that you were the father. Ten months overdue. Tsk!’

‘Well if it was so obvious why did you never say a word?’ snapped Jowan ‘Can’t imagine why you didn’t go running to Ophelia with that tid-bit of gossip.’

Michel shifted a little uneasily. ‘Alistair asked me not to mention it.’

‘He what?!’ replied Cullen angrily. ‘Are you telling me Alistair made you promise not to tell Ophelia that I was indeed not the father? The one thing that upset her so much and he wanted it concealed from her?’

Michel sighed, appearing well defeated. ‘You know why he did that. And at the time my loyalty was with him so I felt it wasn’t my place.’

‘Indeed, because then she would have run away from you also.’ sneered Cullen ‘Don’t play me the fool chevalier, I know how that slithering Orlesian mind of yours works.’. Clenching his fist, Cullen looked irate. ‘Alistair knew the moment Ophelia realised that Leliana had deceived me that his precious queen would find a way back to me.’. Angrily Cullen turned to Jowan. ‘And what of you? Why didn’t you have the decency to inform me of that rather obvious suspicion? Didn’t care to think I might want to know?’

Jowan glared at the Commander icily. ‘Forgive me for saying this but you’re not the most approachable person to talk to. All fists and no empathy. Ring a bell? You’d most likely have thrown me from your study window after you found out I slept with Leliana.’

‘Or worse.’ added Michel cynically.

Ignoring the judgemental glares of his companions, Cullen turned away with a growl. ‘So Alistair suspects Jowan is the real father? Isn’t this going to be a problem? Perhaps he will aid the Chantry with this information in hunting you down after all?’

Jowan shrugged. ‘There is little I can do about it. Unless Leliana told someone, it’s mere speculation. I imagine he will be preoccupied with hunting down Ophelia and care about little else. It matters not. When we leave here I intend to make sure no one will be able to locate us.’

Varric chuckled. ‘Is this the part where I end up dead when I hand over the kid?’

Throwing a wicked smile at the dwarf, Jowan nodded silently.

‘Great,’ mused Varric ‘well that’s sorted. Guess I’m packing lightly!’

‘Pack a shovel while you’re at it.’ grinned the mage.

Varric grabbed his heart dramatically. ‘Ah Riddles you wound me with your spite. Such a tease.’

Michel remained by the window, appearing deeply trouble. ‘Leliana is a dangerous woman. You realise if she ever escaped from this realm of Jowan’s we would all be dead? This is a large risk to be taking.’

‘Yep thought that also.’ replied the rogue.

‘Were it any other person, I’d say the same.’ agreed Cullen ‘However this is Leliana. If we don’t do this, Ophelia is as good as dead. Leliana won’t stand for her and I being together. Need I paint a picture of how things will turn out if we leave Leliana to do as she wishes?’

‘If Ophelia wants to be with you at all.’ added Michel bluntly.

The Commander rubbed his jaw, contemplating whether to elaborate. ‘Michel, you weren’t here when I spoke with Ophelia recently. She loves me. I’m not saying that to hurt you, just know that is how she feels. How she has always felt.’

‘You weren’t in Denerim Palace either when she said the same to me.’ muttered the chevalier.

Jowan and Varric exchanged uneasy looks, knowing this argument was far from over.

Stretching his arms before him, the rogue cracked his knuckles loudly. ‘Look, given Sparrow may well be hurled up and locked up at Redcliffe Castle, I reckon we don’t go ahead with the Gronty plan. Poor bugger will most likely find himself stuck in a cell and not much else.’

‘Not a place you want to spend long periods of time, take it from me.’ replied Jowan dryly.

Varric yanked on his necklace, contemplating their plan. ‘But Riddles you lived in the castle for a while there, right? You know, before you were thrown in the prisons.’

The mage sighed. ‘Yes there was a time when I was a tutor to Connor and slept in the guest quarters. However my knowledge of the castle will not aid us in rescuing Ophelia I’m afraid. Not unless you remove all the knights and staff.’

‘But what can we do then?’ frowned Cullen.

Rubbing his hands together, Varric pondered their options. ‘Okay how about Riddles sends Sparrow a letter asking to visit her at Redcliffe Castle? She’ll have to reply, right? Queen’s gotta write her letters.’

Cullen nodded. ‘Given Michel and I shouldn’t even be in Ferelden, I suppose you are the best choice.’

The Orlesian scoffed in disgust. ‘So we just wait?! Wait for the village courier to deliver this letter and then wait some more for a reply that may never come?! Ophelia could be wasting away in a cell! Who knows what has happened to her! Do any of us know what Alistair is capable of?’

Quietly Cullen muttered something cynical under his breath.

Glaring at the Commander, Michel threw him a heated look. ‘Excuse me?’

The ex-templar returned the scathing look to the Orlesian. ‘Oh I don’t know Michel, only maybe that you should have thought of that BEFORE YOU SHOVED YOUR COCK IN HER AT DENERIM PALACE!!!’ yelled Cullen angrily. ‘We’re doing our best to get Ophelia out of a mess that you and her created. Forgive us for doing it cautiously so we don’t all end up being executed along the way!’

‘Yeah I gotta agree with Curly on this one.’ piped in Varric ‘You don’t want to be storming Redcliffe Castle with four men. That would be your one way ticket to a hangman’s jig.’

Reaching for some parchment on his exceptionally neat desk, Jowan swiftly sat down and commenced writing a letter to Ophelia. The men watched on silently, exchanging dark looks as the mage swirled his quill graciously across the paper.

‘Worst case scenario, what do we do if Ophelia fails to reply to this letter?’ pondered Cullen ‘Jowan, you mentioned an escape through the prisons? Surely we could still get in this way and find Ophelia?’

Looking up from his letter, the mage shook his head. ‘Too risky now. With a household staff that inevitably knows one another quite well, and guards that are familiar of each other, our chances of being spotted are inevitable. We’re of no use to her if we get thrown into prison. Escape route or not.’

Michel frowned. ‘You have magic Jowan. The likes of which are more powerful than your average mage.’. The Orlesian was annoyed, apparently recalling unpleasant previous days. ‘Couldn’t you just put everyone to sleep, or freeze them or…’

‘No.’ warned Jowan sharply ‘Aside from the fact that no mage could put an entire castle asleep, even if I could I wouldn’t dare try.’. Noticing everyone’s confused faces staring at him, the mage pointed his quill at them crossly. ‘Look I’m in no mood to give cause for Ferelden to hunt me down for the rest of my days. You forget that I plan to live away from here as a free man, with my son also free to live and play where he chooses and without fear. I have Valahorn to consider now. I’ve lived in the bad graces of Ferelden before, believe me when I say it is no way to live.’. His dark eyes looked sympathetically to Michel and Cullen. ‘My apologies to you both.’

Cullen waved his hand and Michel brushed his waistcoat stiffly.

Varric yawned, appearing bored with the surly company. ‘Well that’s settled then. Riddles will send the letter and we wait for a reply from Sparrow. Mums the word, won’t tell a soul about this plan. If that’s it, I’m off to The Cock and Bull.’

****

There were small moments throughout the day that I managed to escape from Margaret and Beatrice. The privy being one. My chambers another. However I soon began to find more exceptions to my long desired solitude. I soon discovered that the ladies flat out refused to walk with me along the battlements, with strong protests of the wind messing up their hair and blowing up their skirts. This pleased me greatly and I took some time out of each day to walk along them, claiming I admired the view of the fields. Secretly however I looked for any way to climb down the wall. There were some rocks piled against the outside wall on the eastern side, and although risky there was a chance that I could climb down to them with a rope. If I had a rope.

My mind was consumed with finding a way to escape.

Other times I pretended to enjoy gathering dandelions near the stables, all the while my eyes were searching for any crack in the walls that entertained the possibility of escape. No luck there. My fabricated interest in spiders horrified the women, and after I claimed to have seen several hairy ones near the training circle and close to the gate, they were all too happy to watch on from afar. Unfortunately the lever to the giant gate was always guarded by two knights, and there was no way I could slip through the bars.

Lying in bed that night, I numbly stared at the pewter candelabra burning three candles on my bedside. Beside it was a string leading to the bells in the servant's quarters, ready to attend to my every need. Yet it’s presence seemed to mock me. No amount of ringing would help me escape. No amount of ringing would give me what I truly desired.

My eyes drifted shut, and somewhere between the realm of consciousness and dreaming, I stumbled into a moment where the sound of Alistair’s voice was chatting away.

We were in our chambers back in Denerim, on the night of our wedding. Me on one side of the table and Alistair on the other, he was deep in conversation about his adventures during the Blight.

Chuckling away very merrily, Alistair took a sip from his goblet. ‘Okay, okay.’ he continued ‘So then we found ourselves at Redcliffe and you should have seen the place back then. Overrun by darkspawn, kids hiding in cupboards, and the blacksmith is drunk and refusing to help. Nightmare. So we’re thinking, how could this possibly get any worse?’. The king rolled his eyes. ‘And that’s when Anora comes running down the hill from the Castle. Apparently Connor was possessed. Or something like that, she was acting very shady as always.’. Shrugging, Alistair took another sip. ‘We didn’t know what was actually going on, or how to get into the silly castle. Anora told us to stay away! But Teagan pulled us aside and informed us that there was a secret passage from the old windmill to the prisons. So that’s how we actually got inside the castle!’

With raised brows, I shook my finger at him. ‘No way. I must have heard this story a thousand times over the years, and every time it went that you and Sierra stormed the castle gates with the knights. Barged your way through.’

Alistair laughed, appearing highly amused. ‘You’ve seen the castle gate right? No one is barging through that. No, no, no! That was our official story to the realm so no one would know Redcliffe Castle has another way in. So we climb down into the prisons, and who should be there…….

His voice fading away, my eyes opened wide in a startle.

‘The prisons!’ I whispered in delight.

This was my chance!

Jumping out of bed, I hastily put on my warmest tunic and pants, and pulled on my travelling boots. To conceal my outfit, I threw on a night robe over the garb and whilst it was a bulky ensemble it appeared as if I were in my night attire. Unable to think clearly, I murmured over and over again feverishly; the prisons, the prisons, the prisons. It didn’t matter that I had no provisions or water, all that mattered was that I leave. To the prisons!

Ting-a-ling-a-ling!!!.........Ting-a-ling-a-ling!!!!!

Ringing the bell several times more, I stood by the bed and waited.

Soon enough a polite knock sounded at the door.

‘Your majesty rang for service. May I come in?’

‘Yes, come in.’ I called out firmly, raising my hands swiftly to conjure a large clear ball of energy flame.

There would be no hesitation. No explanations. No discussions. As the maid’s hand revealed itself, pushing the door open, I violently threw the ball to the ground shouting out L’ariber Forte Esq Quendium Too’gwa’uah! The orb spread out and the maid collapsed to the ground with a loud thud.

‘I'm so sorry.’ I whispered.

Lunging for her legs, I dragged the woman into the room and desperately tied her hands and feet with any item of clothing I could find. With my hand ready to cast, I left the room quietly and shut the door behind me.

Creeping down the hall, I winced every time a creak from the wooden floorboards groaned tiredly. The oil lanterns were burning softly as I walked by several chamber doors and the Redcliffe armoury. Descending further to the main level of the castle, my heart sunk as I spotted the backs of two armoured knights. They were posted at the entrance to the upper chambers and there was no way I could avoid them. Clenching my palm, I prepared to cast another sleep spell but held back at the last moment.

The knights turned and I pretended to appear embarrassed.

‘Oh sorry, you weren’t supposed to see me!’ I laughed pleasantly.

The knights bowed elegantly before me. ‘Queen Ophelia.’. The first knight looked surprised. ‘Is anything the matter, Your Majesty? May we assist with something?’

With finger placed on lip, I pretended to mull over the question as I scrambled for an answer. ‘Well yes, in fact there is. I’m hungry and would like to go to the kitchens.’

The second knight exchanged a grin. ‘I’m the same, every time round this hour I hanker for salted pork. Can’t you get the maid who came up to get you something?’

Dammit! I had forgotten the knights would have seen her.

Pointing casually up to the main chambers, I shook my head. ‘Oh no, I needed her for something else. The bedding you see…the feather mattress wasn’t puffed up enough so she’s doing it at the moment. She said it was fine to wander into the kitchens, if you don’t have issue with it?’

Shrugging, they nodded their heads. ‘Enjoy your snack.’ called out one of the knights.

Unwilling to appear too eager, I meandered my way down to the main level and uneasily approached the main entrance. Once again, several guardsmen were present and I was halted in my tracks. And once again I explained my urge to venture to the kitchens.

‘Your Majesty, it is rather late to be wandering outside.’ observed one of the guards politely ‘The route to the kitchens is terribly dark at nightfall. We would not risk you to catch a chill or take a tumble. I’ll send one of my men here to retrieve a selection of desserts and have them delivered to your room immediately.’

‘Oh no it’s fine, I’d rather go myself.’ I insisted.

To my dismay the guard stood his ground. ‘My apologies My Queen. Arl Eamon would not approve of you venturing outside the main castle at this hour. I am very sorry but I have my orders.’

Lifting my hand, the orb glowed bright.

‘What's this?’ remarked a surprised guard, whilst two others reached for their swords.

It was too late, I uttered the words and the orb splayed out. One by one the men dropped loudly in their armour, falling fast asleep. Fearful that someone might have heard the clashing of steel on stone I escaped through the main door hastily and ran down the stairs, eager to make my way through the kitchens to where the prisons resided nearby.

To my relief there were little staff in the lower kitchens, thanks to the late hour, and the ones that saw me were none the wiser that I should not have been there. Finally I reached the door to the prisons, and sighing in relief I noticed the door was not being guarded. Murmuring a simple unlock door spell I was able to open it.

Inside the dank prison I was met with a darkly lit line of cells on both sides of the room. A few coughs and snores came from the sleeping inmates, and a few men stirred to see what the noise was about.

‘Eh we’re trying to get some shut eye here!’ barked one of the prisoners ‘Stocks or not, give us a rest!’

Grabbing a torch off the wall I frantically ran past the cells to the end of the room, desperately searching for a way out.

‘Eh watcha doing?’ asked a young man in the nearby cell. ‘Hang on, I fink I know you. You’re the Inquisita! Eh Jon look who it is. It’s the Inquisita!’

‘Shut-up Mark, I’m sleeping!’ grumbled Jon.

Running my hands along the wall, there was nothing that resembled a passage at all.

‘Tell me where the passage is to get out of here?’ I asked desperately. All I could see was a cobble stoned wall. ‘It’s supposed to be here. At the end of the cells. That is where he said it was. I swear he said from the windmill to the cells. This has to be it, so where is it??!!’

The prisoner Mark leant his arms through the bars, examining the wall curiously. ‘Don’t look like there’s a passage there? Looks like a wall.’

‘Shit.’ I cried out, banging the wall with my palm. ‘I need to escape from here right now. You don’t understand they’re holding me captive!’

‘You and me both.’ chortled Mark ‘Look, I’ve been here for two weeks and I ain't seen no passage. Rats, seen plenty of those. But no passage.’

Grabbing my hair in my hands, I shook my head. ‘This is not happening. This is not happening. Where else can I go? He wouldn’t have made it up. No it has to be here. Do you know how I can get out of here? I need to get out of here!!!’

A prisoner from the cell near the door cackled. ‘Lady, if we knew the answer to that do you reckon we’d be here still?’

Murmuring a spell under my breath, I prepared to cast a missile at the wall and hopefully knock a few stones loose. The orb in my hand glowed green but then fizzled woefully, and I stumbled forward suddenly feeling terribly lightheaded and sick to my stomach. I had used all my mana and had no way of casting magic.

‘I’ve lost my energy.’ I whispered fearfully, turning as I heard a ruckus on the other side of the door. Men’s voices shouted loudly and suddenly the door burst open. Several guards barged through, and behind them was a furious Arl Eamon in his nightgown.

The Arl looked irate as the guards grabbed me by the arms and led me out of the prison.

‘Are you completely insane?’ he shouted angrily ‘What were you thinking?! This is unacceptable behaviour for a lady! What right have you to cast magic on Teagan’s serving staff? On your people? And for what? It is disgraceful! Just disgraceful!’

‘Don’t you start with me on what is disgraceful!’ I yelled back ‘Imprisoning a Queen is disgraceful. Not allowing me to step one foot outside of the gates is disgraceful. You brought this on yourself so don’t act all high and mighty. You’re nothing but a glorified jail keeper. It’s pathetic.’

The Arl shook his head impatiently. ‘Maker grant me patience with you! When will you understand that we are only protecting you. Under His Majesty’s orders we are to keep you safe. Maker knows from what I’ve just seen in the castle just now you obviously need protection from yourself.’

‘I want to see Alistair now.’ I shouted angrily ‘That’s a direct order from your queen. You cannot keep me here. I am the Queen of Ferelden. I decide where I will be and I will ride to Ostagar and speak to him.’

‘My Queen you will contain yourself.’ warned the Arl loudly, his voice booming in the empty hall ‘Such hysteria is not good for you or the child.’

My mind racing, I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around that ludicrous comment. ‘What??!! What did you say?’ I asked furiously ‘You are such a cretin, Eamon. How about for one moment you stop obsessing over heirs for one fucking moment? Go find a hobby or something. Would that be too much to ask?’

Eamon crossed his hands sternly. ‘You need to be calm.’

With hatred in my eyes, I locked onto the Arl’s. ‘I am the Queen of Ferelden. You cannot keep me here against my will.’

‘Enough with this nonsense! Our King left you under my care.’ replied Eamon in irritation ‘And you will be escorted back to your room where you will stay until Alistair returns. After this reckless display I cannot risk you casting magic at the innocent men and women in this castle. Maker help us, after tonight we will be definitely short staffed.’

Shaking my head, I knew there was only one reply to give. ‘Fuck you, Eamon.’

Waving his hand tiredly at the guards, Eamon nodded. ‘Gently take Queen Ophelia back to her room and post three guards outside it. She is not to leave her quarters under any circumstances. And find one of those mana cuffs we put on the mage prisoners and make sure she has one on her wrist at all times. Am I understood?’

Screaming like a wild animal, the guards led me away as I struggled against their firm arms. It was no use. My boots scuffed helplessly over the stone floor as they led me away. There was no escape and I knew the only difference between those men in the prison cells and me was a few fine furnishings and a lumpy featherbed.

****

Michel de Chevin had found himself so warmly welcomed back at the keep that a part of him felt rather sentimental walking the stone corridors that brisk morning. He had been residing in his old room for a week now, and it started to feel as if he never left. Aside from the mages and templars drifting about, everything felt the same. The familiar clang of the hammer against the anvil and dogs barking made him smile, and the plain Ferelden dinners were tastier than he remembered.

The mages that passed his way that morning waved to him jovially, and many of the templars were so in awe of the man that more than a dozen urged him to consider joining the Order. It was flattering, and if Michel was being completely honest with himself he dearly missed the days of being a part of a greater cause. Not that being a templar appealed to him, he knew he was destined to be a chevalier until the end of his days. Yet even now the Order was waiting for his return and he had not obliged. His love for a woman had directed him to Denerim Palace, and then to his disgrace. His honour was tarnished, and once more he was left alone in the world without anything to show for it.

Lost in his thoughts he almost walked straight into Cullen who had approached him near the gardens. The Commander smirked at the startled look of the chevalier as he swept back his blond hair and cleared his throat.

‘Cullen.’ remarked Michel ‘Forgive me, I was elsewhere. Is there something you need?’

‘A moment, if you will?’ replied Cullen, directing his hand to a nearby small stone alcove. ‘I thought you should know we’ve still had no reply from Ophelia.’

The chevalier frowned. ‘It’s been over a week now and every day I’ve been anticipating a courier from Redcliffe to come riding in through our gates. It’s not like her to not reply.’

‘I’m guessing the furthest Jowan’s letter got was a blazing fireplace in Redcliffe.’ observed Cullen cynically ‘She never received it, that much I can be certain of. I imagine its a great start to a marriage when your spouse starts burning your mail.’

Revealing a small smile at his sarcasm, the chevalier nodded. ‘We must assume then that she is being held there under very strict orders not to make contact with anyone.’

Cullen scoffed at the observation. ‘Strict orders indeed. When Ophelia was here recently, she came to talk to me. Well, I used the term talk rather loosely, she merely bumped into me outside The Cock and Bull one night. But Alistair sent his guards after her the very second she did, and physically dragged her away against her will.’

Michel turned to the man in surprise. ‘He used force against her? That is not how I remember Alistair being in Denerim. He was always so very polite and civil.’

‘Mark my word Michel, you never know the true character of a person.’ observed Cullen darkly ‘We are all actors. Some better than others perhaps?’. The man raised a sandy brow, as if implying he was in the company of a very fine actor. ‘In the tavern that night I saw a king that admired his queen. I also saw a jealous one. And no matter what happened before in Denerim, something snapped in him that night. He was angry. Only a spiteful man would act like he did and instruct his guards to take her away.’

The chevalier looked cynically at the Commander, an entertained smile on his lips as he crossed his arms.

‘Something amuse you?’ asked Cullen dryly.

‘Your oblivion perhaps?’ replied Michel ‘You murdered his first wife. And you were Ophelia’s fiancé, weren’t you? Do you really think Alistair was going to act in any other way? Of course he hates you. Alistair isn’t a spiteful man. He’s just a man.’

‘I realise that.’ retorted the Commander ‘I merely meant it was the manner of Alistair’s handling of the situation that makes me uneasy. Uneasy of what else he can do.’. The ex-templar frowned, unable to let go of the image in his head. ‘We’ve had some further news I thought I should mention.’

‘Such as?’ asked Michel curiously.

‘Jowan rode out this morning to go see Ophelia. He’s determined to see what reception he receives at the castle.’

‘One can only guess it won’t be the kind that involves high tea and minstrels.’ observed Michel cynically.

Cullen chuckled. ‘My thoughts exactly. Nevertheless he’s determined and I must give the man credit for trying.’

Reaching into his pocket, Cullen grabbed a crumpled scroll. ‘And I’ve received word this morning from a contact of ours in Ostagar. Apparently the wardens have been successful and removed the darkspawn. My guess is Alistair will be returning to Redcliffe very soon.’

The chevalier looked worried. ‘Then we have little time. Considering the security on Ophelia in Redcliffe will be strong, what chance do we have? This is unfortunate news.’ 

‘There is another way.’ replied Cullen with less enthusiasm ‘But in order for it to work we are all going to be required to act together. In Ferelden. And not in the most patriotic of circumstances.’

Suspecting what Cullen was implying, Michel pursed his lips. The pair were forbidden to step foot in Ferelden, and if they were to be caught it would mean the end of their freedom. Lifting his blue eyes, Michel placed a hand on his chest. ‘For Ophelia I will do whatever is needed.’

Cullen nodded, as if he too felt the same way. ‘I’ve already spoken to Jowan. He said with his magic, and our fighting skills, we just may be able to pull it off.’

‘Pull what off?’ frowned Michel ‘What do you intend to do? Storm the castle?’

‘An ambush on the road when Alistair and Ophelia leave Redcliffe.’ answered Cullen.

A spritely laugh escaped the chevalier’s lips yet his face looked confused. ‘You cannot be serious!? An ambush? I’ve ridden with the Ferelden guard. A royal entourage with the King and Queen always consists of fifty soldiers and half a dozen mages. Not in a million years could you ambush a royal carriage.’

‘Jowan is no average mage.’ replied Cullen with a slight hint of disapproval ‘I’ve seen him destroy Imshael before my very eyes. The malificar has unique spells that perhaps we should not dwell on.’

‘No we should, we definitely should.’ retorted the Orlesian rigidly. ‘What spells are you talking about? Is he going to murder everyone on that road? I will not be a part of that. We cannot slaughter the king and his guards.’

‘Did I say we planned to slaughter everyone?’ groaned Cullen ‘Maker’s breath, you Orlesians have such a wild sense of imagination. I merely said Jowan would be performing some magic that we may not find…tasteful.’

‘Love makes fools of us all.’ warned Michel ‘There was a time when the very mention of blood magic would have made you furious. Now it appears you have changed your tune. Now it appears you are happy to be apart of such disgraceful acts!’

Running his hand over the rough stone ledge, Cullen nodded silently. ‘You’re right. This is something that loathes me. It repulses me. But given the choice between my morality or securing Ophelia’s safety, I will choose the latter.’. The Commander turned his amber eyes to meet those of the chevalier. ‘I now understand why she chose to do the same for you all those years back in Halamshiral when Imshael possessed you. She knew, as I know now, that love conquers all. I know there will be a choice before her soon and I am under no illusion that she loves us both. Over the years it has been made very clear to me that she loves you also. Whatever Ophelia chooses to do, finally I am prepared to accept that. No matter the outcome, I will not regret using blood magic to free her of this nightmare she finds herself in.’

Closing his eyes, Michel murmured soft words ‘Cupidis amovet a tramite rectitudinis usque feremus umbras. Our passion blinds us from path of righteousness, yet in the shadows we will endure.’. Opening his eyes, he lunged for the Commander.

Taking Cullen by surprised, the chevalier embraced him as a brother. The ex-templar stood there rigidly, more blind-sided and confused than anything else.

‘There was a time long ago when you were my good friend.’ declared Michel ‘And I looked up to you as a great Commander and embraced the cause that led us to defeat Corypheus. It would be honour to stand with you, side by side, and fight for what is right once more.’

‘You’re not going to kiss me now, are you?’ mused Cullen.

Michel chuckled, releasing his grip of the Commander and stepping back. ‘Not today.’

Cullen slapped the man affectionately on the back. ‘Michel for what its worth, I appreciate your goodwill. Loathed as I am to admit it, the day you arrived at Skyhold was a glorious one. I was delighted with the prospect of having a skilled warrior such as yourself as my Second in Command. No matter what happened after that, I would rather remember the beginning and not the rest. We have spent too much time fighting and I for one am sick of it.’

The Orlesian lifted his eyes to the sky, his poetical heart ready to burst. ‘As the philosopher Cicero says; Amicitiae nostrae memoriam spero sempiternam fore. I hope that the memory of our friendship will be everlasting.’

The Commander raised his brows in amusement. ‘Well whatever we have here is rather hard to forget.’ he jested ‘Or ignore. I suppose that implies it is everlasting….’. Under his breath he added cynically ‘…whether we wish it or not.’

Michel rolled his eyes. ‘I was being hopeful.’

‘Delusional.’ corrected Cullen, with a smirk. ‘Fine, call it what you will. It takes humility to set aside one’s differences, and downright tom foolery for enemies to profess endearment. So let us be content with that! We will do this for Ophelia and move on with our lives, whatever that path may lead us.’

‘Such as a shared prison in Denerim perhaps?’ mused Michel.

‘Maker help me,’ chuckled Cullen ‘I’ll take the gallows any day over that!’

Laughing in reply, Michel turned away with a smile on his face. Surreal was definitely the word to describe his return to Skyhold but in the end he was pleased that he had returned.

****

‘This place is filled with the spirits of the dead,’ murmured Alistair ‘and still they wonder why they fell on that day.’

Solemnly the king looked out from the top of the Tower of Ishal. Far below he could hear the laughter and merry voices of jovial wardens as they carried boxes and bundles into the tower, eager to set up in their new home.

Alistair knew it was a time for celebration but something about this place made it impossible for him to partake in it. He would be a silent spectator, like the ghosts of the wardens trapped forever in Ostagar.

With the darkspawn gone, and the Order back in Ostagar, it had been declared by many to be the beginning of the glory days. And yet as Alistair stood at the top of this tower, his eyes couldn’t tear away from the battleground of years prior. The place where his dear friend Duncan had been slaughtered, and his brother Cailan.

Alistair wanted to say so much to them now. Deep in his heart he longed for a moment where he could sit side by side with his brother and just talk as men. Get to know the man that he knew so little about. No amount of time erased the pain of that day when Cailan and Duncan died, and now as Alistair looked upon the place where they died there was nothing he wanted more than to go back to that moment and try to make things right.

‘Your Majesty the horses are ready.’ announced a guard by the door ‘We shall wait for you at the bridge.’

Alistair nodded. Taking a final look down to the place that changed his life forever, he turned away.

A king can fall as easily as any other man.

Tightening his steel greaves, Alistair pressed forward with a confident stride. If Cailan and Duncan’s demise had taught him anything, it was that life was precious. Alistair was determined not to squander the gift he held in his hands. He would be known as the King of the Golden Era, and nothing less would suffice. He owed that much to Duncan and Cailan. To the wardens. And to his people.

With his entourage at the ready by the bridge, Alistair threw the group of wardens a final wave of farewell before riding out through the marshlands and onto the Imperial Highway. The victorious leader was ready to return to Redcliffe and recommence his duties as the King of Ferelden.


	111. A Place to Call Home

‘There has to be another way.’ protested Michel ‘You can’t tell me this is the only way.’

Throwing him an apologetic, albeit highly amused, smile Varric shrugged at the conflicted chevalier. ‘Goldilocks, not sure what to tell ya? It’s gotta be this way. It’s the only way I can cause a distraction that will get that wet nurse out of Leliana’s quarters.’

Muttering elegant Orlesian sounding words filled with insults directed at his companion, Michel de Chevin appeared reluctant to agree to the plan. The grinning dwarf watched on in silence as the man paced his chambers at Skyhold. Reaching for a clock on his mantlepiece, Michel sighed as he noticed the time.

‘Is that really the hour?’ he observed.

Varric jumped up from his seat. ‘Yep. I should get going, gotta a few things to pack before I’m outta here for good.’. He cast an eye outside the window and smiled. ‘Yeah I hate to say it but I’m going to miss this place. I guess you never know how much a place has a hold on you until you leave it? Anyway better be off!’

Michel raised his hands fearfully, stepping forward to the dwarf. ‘No, no. no, just wait a moment! You cannot go yet!? I have questions. Many many questions.’

‘Alright already!’ laughed Varric ‘You can’t blame me for bolting before the Orlesian noble starts grizzling! Come on Goldilocks, we’ve already been over this a million times.’

The chevalier rubbed his temples, as if warding off a migraine. ‘This plan of yours. I understand that I am to cause a distraction. But who’s to say this wet nurse won’t run out of the room with the infant in her arms? There’s a good chance Valahorn will come along? And then all of this will be for nothing.’

‘She won’t.’ reassured Varric ‘Carrying a baby is just going to get in the way when you wanna throttle someone. And trust me, she’s going to be angrier than a dragon trying to blow out it’s own birthday candles!’

‘Perfect,’ sighed Michel ‘I’ve something else to look forward to now.’

‘Heck you’ve got the easy part here! I’m running the risk of being caught red handed with the Divine’s baby and marched to the Grand Cathedral square to await the guillotine. I’ve smuggled booze out of tight spaces before, but never a kid. Not exactly my easiest job here.’

Cupping his blonde head in his hands, the chevalier groaned. ‘I know what you are doing is perilous. I can deal with peril. What I am doing however is just going to…make me incredibly uncomfortable. And it would seem rather out of character. I would never do such things.’

Varric grinned at the chevalier. ‘Well Dorian says all Orlesians like- ‘

‘Dorian is mistaken.’ replied Michel sternly. Rubbing his face with his palms, the chevalier shook his head. ‘I know it has to be this way. It’s not that I’m complaining but- ‘

The dwarf snorted and the Orlesian frowned back at him.

‘I’m not complaining,’ continued Michel crisply ‘but why do I have to specifically do that?’

Having already explained his reasons, Varric groaned impatiently. ‘Hit me with ham fifty times! You know why!!! Look this wet nurse, Lisbeth, who takes care of Valahorn is hooked up with this Antivan called Fazio who works as a templar. I’ve got the word from at least twenty people in the keep that she is completely smitten with the guy and is jealous as a green-eyed harpy. If he even blinks at another girl he’s in for a whipping. But it never happens much because he’s actually more interested in…’

‘Bangers, beans and mash.’ muttered Michel.

Varric began to chuckle uncontrollably, pointing his finger at Michel in great delight. ‘Bang on the mark! So now do you get why you gotta do what you gotta do?’

‘Yes, but why me?’ appealed Michel ‘Why not Dorian or some other person that is actually inclined towards men? It doesn’t have to be me.’

Angling his hands as a pretend picture frame, the dwarf held them up to the chevalier. ‘Because you, Ser Michel de Chevin; Chevalier, Champion and Maister of Blades, seem to be able to charm the pants off every man and woman in Thedas. And I’m told your powers extend to this templar Fazio, who has gushed over you many times over in passing. He’s got a thing for you. Or so I’m told. This plan of ours has gotta work and I know this will do it!’

‘If he likes men why is he with this wet nurse Lisbeth.’ argued Michel.

The rogue tapped his nose. ‘Because Lisbeth is his one-way ticket out of a pauper’s wages in the Templar Order. Sure, she’s as plain as a house rat with a foul temper but the woman happens to be the only living heir to the Lennow Fortune. She had a fall out with her family years back. Ya know, apparently she’s a disgrace ‘cause she has seven or eight kids each to a different papa. Tarnished the family name, yeah? But thanks to a bout of the plague up in Nevarra a few years back her entire family was wiped out aside from her grandfather. It means squat at the moment, but one day things will change. So while she’s just a pain in Fazio’s arse at the moment, when her grandfather finally carks it Lisbeth stands to inherit several mines and a few fancy estates in Nevarra. And Fazio can’t wait to be a part of that celebration don’t you worry about that.’. Cracking his knuckles, Varric nodded at the chevalier. ‘And that is why you shouldn’t feel so bad about toying with the guy. He’s not exactly Mr. Noble, if you know what I mean?’

Rolling his eyes, the Orlesian sighed. ‘Fine I’ll do it. But first I need to know how you intend to leave the castle undetected with a crying infant? I need to know everything Varric. Everything.’

Cracking his knuckles once again, the dwarf eased back in his chair. ‘Well a rogue never reveals his tricks but I guess for you I’ll oblige just this once?’

‘Varric please be serious.’ urged Michel. His hand nervously tapped the hilt of his sheathed sword as he began to pace his quarters. ‘This plan needs to be watertight. The slightest crack and we’re- ‘

‘-completely up shit creek?’ interjected Varric ‘Nah, we’ll be sinking it.’. Noticing the lack of amusement from his companion, the rogue grew more serious. ‘Yeah I know Goldilocks, trust me I know. Look I realise how big this whole feat is. I do. Heck I’m still not sure I want to be apart of it! Too late for that though eh? I gave my word to Curly and Riddles and I don’t go back on my word. Dwarf’s gotta have some respect. Anyway here’s the plan. I’m not working this gig alone. There’s a woman from Kirkwall that I’ve brought in to help me. Don’t worry she’s solid. Won’t tell a soul. Yeah hands down I’d trust her with my own life. Mary Greenthatch is her name, nice woman. Makes a good chicken pot pie.’

The chevalier halted his pacing, turning to the dwarf in horror. ‘Someone else knows about what we intend to do?!!! No one was supposed to know about this plan! Think of the repercussions if she reveals what has happened?!’

Varric shrugged. ‘I didn’t see a way around it. We need someone to nurse this baby until we meet up with the rest of you fine folk. Kid’s gotta survive, yeah? And let’s face it, no one’s going to suspect a woman walking out of here with a baby. Not when Mary’s going to be coming into Skyhold this morning pretending to bringing a baby of her own along.’

‘That’s…actually a good point.’ remarked Michel in surprise.

‘Don’t act so shocked!’ laughed Varric.

‘So that is how you intend to remove Valahorn from the keep? This woman is going to take him?’

‘Mary will be waiting for me to hand over the kid and then she’ll be out of Skyhold before you can say beans, bangers and mash. She won’t put Valahorn under any danger, you can trust her. And while you’re doing what you’re going to do, I’ve enlisted the help of one of the mages here to help me out. You know, just to make sure this wet nurse Lisbeth finds out what’s going on.’

Michel paused again in concern once more. ‘What mage? Can we trust them also?’

Varric waved his hand. ‘Yeah Ginger’s solid also. Done a lot of work for me in the past. She’s the one who managed to hoist several barrels of Cabot’s ale without him noticing. Remember a while back when he came after me at The Herald’s Rest swearing to kill me ‘cause I stole his grog?’

‘You swore you didn’t.’ noted Michel dryly.

Varric chuckled. ‘Yeah I suppose I did. Anyway, Ginger is the shadow helper to a lot of my less than reputable projects I’ve got going. She just uses the mage front for appearances. The girl’s a classic rogue with magic, one of a kind.’

‘Then I guess it’s time?’ observed Michel, his blue eyes looking to his companion solemnly. ‘Good luck Varric.’

Extending his arm to the rogue, the pair exchanged a warm shake.

‘Thanks Goldilocks. And same to you. I’ll see you on the other side of all this. Hopefully.’

‘Yes hopefully.’ agreed Michel.

Pointing his finger at the chevalier, Varric grew serious. ‘You’ve got an hour before lunchtime. It has to be done right at that moment. You got it? No delays and no chickening out of this. Put on your best performance cause we’ve one chance to pull this off and one chance only.’

The chevalier nodded to the dwarf with a displeased look. ‘Fine.’

With a wink Varric departed the room, ready to perform the riskiest robbery ever attempted at Skyhold.

****

Her green eyes lifted to the leafy branches up ahead, so thickly grown that the sky above could barely be seen. For half an hour she had been waiting here, sitting on a large rock beside Vörðr Falls. Whilst the beauty of the Emerald Graves was a welcomed distraction, Leliana found herself growing impatient at such idle distractions. There was too much work to be done to be traipsing about in such places. Yet on that morning she had been reminded that trifle distractions were the spice of life.

Before Cullen departed from their room, he had taken her into his arms and made love to her as the sun rose and shone on their bed. It was unexpected, yet something about that moment reminded her once more of the close bond they shared. Between lingering kisses Cullen asked her to meet him away from hustle and bustle of Skyhold and join him for a lunch by Vörðr Falls in the Emerald Greaves. A romantic gesture most certainly, and something Cullen was never so well practiced in. The suggestion peaked her curiosity. Leliana entertained thoughts of what might come but silently chastised herself for falling vulnerable to such frivolous sentiments. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but wonder if a proposal was destined her way? Her curiosity got the better of her and she agreed to meet him at the spot.

With a smile, Leliana ran her eyes over the crystal-clear water that splashed against the polished stones of the river below. It was novel to be alone with just her thoughts, and she rather missed the quietude. Valahorn was being cared for by his nurse Lisbeth back at the keep and there were no irritating Chantry guards following her, namely at the request of Cullen that morning. It took a lot of convincing to persuade her shadows not to join her but she felt happier for it. Today it would be just the two of them. Her and Cullen. 

A small pebble landed at her boot, and she looked up to see the Commander smiling at her from afar. It was strange to see him no longer in his Commander armour, or that of the Templar Order. Now he just wore a black doublet, pants and boots like any other gentleman, although his Commander longsword still hung from a black leather belt at his side.

‘You’ve arrived at last.’ Cullen observed ‘Took your time.’

‘Did you get a pebble knock to the head?’ teased Leliana ‘I’ve been waiting here longer than you. You know we've a billion things to do back at the keep. Perhaps we should ride back now?’

‘After we’ve come all this way?’ remarked Cullen in surprise ‘Nonsense!’

The Commander approached her and placed a peck on her cheek. He smiled at the woman but his amber eyes revealed a distraction. A faint shift from his normal self, as if something troubled him.

‘Is everything alright?’ frowned Leliana ‘Did you have a bad morning with the templars? I thought Rylen would have taken the reins by now? You’re not obliged to work for them anymore, you realise that? Not now that you’ve stepped away from the Order.’

Cullen shook his head. ‘Everything is perfectly fine. Why would you ask that?’

‘No reason.’ she replied, noticing Cullen’s uneasiness once more. With a tilt of her head, she continued to examine the man. ‘No there is definitely something on your mind. I know you too well.’

Reaching for Leliana’s hand, Cullen grasped it in his. ‘Leli if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a million times, men are simple creatures. There’s nothing going on in my mind except the thought of food. Stop over-complicating matters.’. Leading the way, he pulled her along. ‘I’ve set up a picnic for us behind those trees. Just this way.’

The pair passed through to a circular a gathering of trees. On the ground there was a weathered riding coat, and a small parcel placed upon it that would have barely fed one person, let alone two.

‘I see you’ve gone to a lot of effort!’ taunted Leliana. Eyeing the sorrowful layout, she shook her head. ‘Cullen you’re hopeless! I should have known. Next time let me be in charge of lunch.’

Cullen shifted uneasily beside her. ‘We’re not here for lunch Leliana.’ he informed suddenly.

Leliana turned to her companion and her smile faded into a frown. Cullen’s demeanour had transformed into a solemn one, yet his attention was drawn to the direction behind her. There was no smile on his face now, and his body grew rigidly tight as he stood there holding her hand.

‘Cullen?’ frowned Leliana ‘What’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen- ‘

Turning to look to where Cullen was staring, Leliana raised her brows in surprise. There between two trees appeared the pale figure of Jowan, dressed in his black robes of the Mage Order.

Jowan nodded in acknowledgment as he stepped forward.

‘Jowan? What are you doing here? I thought you said you were riding out to Wellington today to source new magical books for the Order?’. Leliana turned back to Cullen in surprise. ‘Did you invite Jowan to dine with us? I thought it was meant to be just the two of us?’

Cullen’s grasp remained tight on Leliana’s hand as he stood beside her. ‘Not exactly. Like I said, we’re not here for lunch. There are some matters that need to be addressed.’

Leliana looked from man to man, noticing the serious expressions on their faces. Something wasn’t right and she now knew it. Backing away, she threw Cullen a surprised look as he refused to let go of her hand.

‘Cullen let go of me.’ ordered Leliana, trying to pull her hand away. Throwing him a bewildered look, she began to pull against his grip but his strength outmatched hers. ‘Let go Cullen. LET GO!’

‘No not this time.’ informed Cullen, reaching for her blade of her dirk sheathed at her waist. The Commander was fast and flung it from her sheath before she could fight him for it.

‘What are you doing?!’ cried out Leliana, looking at her discarded blade now lying on the ground. ‘Why did you just do that?’

Cullen held her hand securely. ‘We need to talk about many things and we need to talk about them now.’

The Commander looked grave as he held the struggling Leliana, waiting patiently as Jowan quickly approached. The mage threw a silent nod to the Commander and in turn Cullen nodded back.

‘Jowan tell me what is going on!’ demanded Leliana ‘Stop it the both of you! What things do we need to talk about?! What needs to be addressed here aside from you both acting like madmen?!’

The mage placed a hand on Leliana’s shoulder and murmured a few words as she once more struggled to get away. Her screams were in vain as Cullen grabbed her and forced her to keep still. To her horror the green of the forest began to spin around her as a vortex appeared, and in it the three of them were sucked in.

Her screams were contorted, echoing back to her before she had opened her mouth. Fear struck her as she breathlessly was hurled into another place, sucked into a space of spiraling shadows. A heaviness fell over her and her mind felt fuzzy as she opened her eyes to a candle lit dark cave.

‘Leliana, are you alright?’ asked Cullen. He pulled her from the ground up to him, and she pushed him off her angrily.

‘What in the nine divines are you doing!!??’ she yelled furiously ‘What have you both done? Where are we? Why are we here?! You will answer me!’

‘Why do you think we are here?’ asked Jowan flatly, casting an eye around the abode. ‘You’re a smart woman Leliana. What would your assessment be of us acting so strange?’

Her furious eyes locked onto the mage. ‘I’ve no idea. Why don’t you tell me? No doubt you’re behind it?’

The mage smiled back, unconvinced that his companion was that oblivious. ‘This is a cave in the Nephilim Realm. We are not in Thedas anymore. It is where I used to live many years ago when I was on the run. Now it is your home, so welcome.’

‘My home?’. Leliana scoffed, turning her attention on the silent Commander at her side. ‘So, this was your intention all along? Lure me into the woods and then have this weasel transport me here? Did you fuck me this morning in order to lay out this weak-willed plan? You disgust me.’

The Commander shifted in irritation, casting his amber eyes to Jowan. It was clear that there were some things that the Commander did not wish the mage to know and this was one of them. ‘Given your behaviour I had little choice but to use the tools of your trade.’ muttered Cullen ‘Lies and deceit. That is the only tune you dance to. Morrigan told us everything about your sick plot. Everything. We know that you lied about me being the father to Valahorn. We know how you used Morrigan to help you seduce Jowan. Or should I say rape? He’s the father, isn’t he?’

Shocked by the observation, Leliana grew silent as her green calculating eyes darted between the men. Her mind ticked over but even she knew there was nothing she could say to change the truth.

‘You both seem to hold all the cards here?’ observed the Spymaster icily ‘What does it matter what I say? It is what it is.’

‘You don’t deny it?’ scorned Cullen ‘You aren’t even going to explain yourself? Or apologise? Or fucking say anything?’. The man grabbed her wrist angrily. ‘You deceived me. You told me I had a son.’

The woman opened her mouth to defend herself but then shook her head, unwilling to respond.

‘Your lack of remorse is disappointing,’ reproached Jowan ‘yet unsurprising.’

‘And what would remorse actually achieve here?’ retorted Leliana, turning to glare at Jowan. ‘Don’t act so dignified blood mage. We all know you’re capable of much worse than what I’ve done. At least I created a life.’

‘You’ve taken your fair share over the years.’ muttered Cullen.

‘My actions were directed by the Maker.’ retorted Leliana angrily ‘Everything I do is the will of the Maker. You both bring me here to cast judgement when it is not yours to cast. You cannot question the will of the Maker.’

The Commander rolled his eyes. ‘Under a will that I highly suspect was all fabricated for your own advancement. The will of the Maker places you as head of the Chantry with me chained to your side. Praise be to the Maker.’

Leliana shook her head in annoyance. ‘How can I expect either of you to ever understand? The Maker will punish the faithless and reward the faithful. We are not to question him.’

Jowan pursed his lips in displeasure as he looked upon the woman. ‘So that’s it then? Not going to say sorry? Are we never to entertain the reasoning behind your madness? You possessed me with magic and forced me to father your child. How about we explain that minor mishap?’

‘Would it change anything if I cried and begged?’ snapped Leliana ‘Would you believe me to be sincere if I claimed it? Would you be prepared to let me go if I swore contrition?’. She laughed bitterly at the emotionless face of the mage. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’

‘You’re right, it matters little now.’ replied Jowan ‘You forced me to father your child and then lied to my face., even when I offered you compassion and friendship. You were happy to let me live out my days ignorant to the fact that I even had a child. You aren’t capable of sincerity, Leliana. You aren’t capable of feeling.’

Leliana scoffed at the comment. ‘I can live with that. But believe me when I say I only did what I did because my faith guided me to do so. Do you really think I wanted to have your child?’

‘Do you really think I wanted yours?’ quipped Jowan angrily ‘You brought a life into this world that I am now bound to. Everything has changed now because of your actions.’

Cullen examined the woman before him, as if trying to make sense of her. ‘You kept me away from Ophelia with this lie.’ he observed sternly ‘You’ve run the risk of destabilising the entire fucking Chantry with your erratic behaviour. The Divine is a symbol of piety, not a fucking whore.’

Leliana laughed at the comment. ‘Coming from you I take that with a grain of salt. Maker grant me patience with you Cullen. It’s not all about you and Ophelia. It’s not even about you Cullen. I did what I did because I was instructed to by the Maker. There are bigger things at stake here!’

‘Why would the Maker demand that you have my child? The offspring of a maleficar?’ chortled Jowan ‘It makes no sense? You do realise how unhinged you sound?’

Drawing her arms out, she stretched them leisurely and her fingers wiggled as if to taunt them. ‘MacLothlorian means the white rose, yes? You told me that yourself. And that is your name. The white rose was the first vision I received from the Maker. It’s symbolism is more significant than you could possibly understand. The white rose bush appeared beside my child in the vision I received years later. It has always been you Jowan. The piece to the puzzle. It is why the Maker resurrected you. Why else would he bring back a slippery blood mage such as yourself from the dead?’. Casting a filthy look at Jowan, she pointed an accusing finger. ‘You murdered Athalwolf and Mabel Guildersleeve and agreed to help Samson by feeding information from the Inquisition back to him. You were ready to work on the side of Corypheus. You helped Josephine poison Cullen. Then you murdered me by running a blade in my chest and tried to do the same to Cassandra. All I did was have your child and then lie about it. So tell me Jowan, who’s the dark horse in this room?’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not denying my misdeeds. At least I can stand here and say wholeheartedly that I was wrong. Can you do the same?’

‘Guided by the Maker I can never be wrong.’ declared Leliana, making the symbol of the Chantry as she lowered her eyes in reverence. ‘The Maker guides me and his will is the only way forward.’

Turning away from the woman, Cullen drew his hands through his hair in agitation. ‘This is insane. It’s like speaking to the mad hermit that lives in the village hedge rose and holds sermons to the cats and dogs. Over and over again you speak of the Maker’s will as if it is an excuse to your disgusting behaviour.’

‘Leliana you know MacLothlorian is not my real name.’ frowned Jowan ‘I’ve told you already that it was given to me by the Chantry when I was living there. All you are doing is chasing a story in your head and trying to justify it with weak symbolism. You see that, don’t you?’

Leliana appeared indifferent to Jowan’s logic. ‘A name is a name, no matter the origin. Believe what you want, I know what the Maker wanted and I acted merely a vessel to ensure all that should happen will happen.’

‘And now that you are here?’ inquired Jowan sharply ‘How do you intend on helping the Maker now?’

Her cold green eyes met the mage once more. ‘The child has been born. My duty is done. Considering you went to all this trouble to lock me away instead of murdering me, I can only assume Valahorn will be cared for? And that is all he needs for now. When the day comes he will be guided by the Maker and take his rightful place. There is nothing that you and anyone else can do about that now. The wheels are already in motion.’

‘Do you hear how you sound?!’ cried out Cullen in disbelief ‘Leli I truly fear for you. I fear that you have lost your mind and it scares me. Perhaps all this violence and suffering you have endured has finally gotten to you? If there is a shred of sense left in that head of yours you will at least accept that your actions were wrong and try and atone.’

Leliana shook her head. ‘No Cullen, you just never understood the greater purpose. Despite all the signs you have chosen to cast a blind eye. You will be made to atone for this betrayal but it will not be my hand. I love you too much to ever hold anger in my heart for you, no matter how many times you have hurt me. That includes what you are doing right now.’

Jowan shook his head. ‘This is hopeless.’ he muttered, turning away from the couple. ‘Cullen when you’re ready to leave let me know. I will give you both a moment.’

Leliana ran her eyes around the cold cave, her lips pursed in silent fury. ‘So, this is where you have chosen as my final resting place? After everything we've been through, you have decided a burrow is fitting to shove me in?’

Cullen remained quiet, his eyes full of pity as he looked upon the woman. Drawing closer to Leliana, his voice was full of pain. ‘You lied to me about our child. I held Valahorn in my arms and believed him to be my son. Do you realise how much you’ve hurt me?’

Leliana’s turned her face from the man, her eyes glistening with supressed emotion. ‘I feel the pain of losing the child we should have had Cullen. I feel it every second of every day.’. Leliana shook her head, unable to keep her terrible secret any longer. ‘I was pregnant with your child. Our child. But I knew that was not what the Maker had intended. I had to abort our child, there was no other way. Not when the chosen one was that of another man. We were happy, you and I. Why should that have been destroyed for a simple fact of who the real father was?’

Taking a step away from the woman in horror, Cullen was gobsmacked. ‘You…you murdered our unborn child so you could have Jowan’s instead?’ he whispered. Cullen turned his amber eyes away in fury, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I don’t even know what to say to you anymore. You would murder an innocent for your madness? You’re no better than Josephine, doing anything you can to keep me desperately at your side.’

‘Then do you wish to kill me also?’ scoffed Leliana ‘For pretending you were the father to Valahorn and deceiving you, do you believe I deserve death?’

Cullen shook his head. ‘No that is why you will remain here, away from the world and those that you like to toy with. Alive and away from causing harm.’

Leliana glowered at the man, her green eyes filled with fury. ‘So you would imprison me for lying to you then? Yes I chose to abort our child, but it was my choice and not yours. All I have done is lie to you about a child that you never wanted in the first place! And for that you would keep me here forever? That is a harsh sentence.’

‘Not harsh enough.’ growled Cullen. Cursing under his breath, the Commander turned away from the woman. ‘Ever since Greenfell you’ve claimed the most outlandish visions were direct orders from the Maker and-’. Shaking his head, he laughed bitterly. ‘-and Maker curse me for I entertained your delusions. I entertained them because it was the easiest path for me to take! Indulging in your fantasies has resulted in a lot of people being hurt. But no more. No more, Leliana. I see now the shameless depths you are willing to take to secure your own interests. You’re certainly not fit to act as Divine. Yet I know you too well. You would never stand down from your role and the people would never strip you of your title while you claim the Maker resurrected you.'

'He did resurrect me.' snapped Leliana 'Twice if you recall?'

Cullen shook his head. 'I cannot explain that but I refuse to believe the Maker guides you. You have shown me that you serve only yourself and I know you will never change. Not until your dying breath. Therefore I must keep you away for your own good, and for the good of the realm.'

Unable to conceal her laughter, Leliana appeared amused at the Commander’s sentiments. Holding her delicate fingers to her mouth, she was unable to stop the amusement pouring out.

Cullen was unimpressed. ‘Why are you laughing?’

‘Seriously?’ chortled Leliana ‘You call me deluded? You can’t even admit why you are doing this! It’s not for the good of the realm or the Chantry. It’s for the good of yourself. You haven’t the balls to kill me so you’ll imprison me like a dog for the rest of my life while you go off with Ophelia Trevelyan. Oh, or is that Ophelia Theirin these days? I’m assuming that’s the plan? Run off with the Queen of Ferelden and as a pair of traitors you are will raise my son together as a happy family?’

He frowned at his amused companion, knowing she was closer to the truth than he cared for. ‘Is it so unreasonable for me to believe none of us are safe when you are on the loose?’ growled Cullen ‘Are you that deluded to think you would ever let me be with another person that isn’t yourself? Especially Ophelia. The next step in your sordid plan would have been to kill her and claim that the Maker desired it. Don’t insult me to claim otherwise, I know how you deal with your enemies.’ His eyes looked at the woman intensely as she glared back. ‘Your silence affirms everything.’

Leliana shook her head at the man. ‘I saved you Cullen. That afternoon in Greenfell when you tried to hang yourself from the tree. I saved you. It wasn’t the Maker or any other reason. It was because I loved you. I love you Cullen, and always have and I always will.’

Reaching for his hand, Cullen turned his eyes away but allowed her to hold his hand in hers. Squeezing it, Leliana nodded.

‘In Greenfell we pledged ourselves to each other. In the eyes of the Maker we are wed. Our union is holy, Cullen. What has happened since that day?’

‘You changed and so did I.’ murmured Cullen ‘What we were then we are not now. And with change comes growth, and the chance for us both to move on if you are willing to accept it.’

‘Where is my chance to move on locked up in here?’ scoffed the Spymaster, running her eyes around the cave. ‘There’s nothing here for me. You know that.’

Pressing his hands to hers, Cullen looked around the richly furnished room. It resembled Jowan in so many ways, for the darkness of the cave contrasted with the refined velvets and gold trimmings spectacularly and held a certain elegance that one rarely came across. It was a rich tapestry of complexity that would inevitably be misunderstood and unappreciated in certain company.

‘Think of this as an opportunity to stop and think about everything that you have done in the past.’ observed Cullen. It appeared as if he too was thinking about the trouble Leliana had caused. ‘I will never take for granted how much you helped me in Greenfell. For that you will always have a place in my heart. But I forsake that union in Greenfell that we pledged. I want nothing to do with you and here you can live out your life in comfortable solitude. Be content with that, for life is not something you afforded most of your enemies. Everything you need will be provided, you’ll get a better life than most of the people in Thedas.’

‘Except for my freedom.’ added Leliana darkly ‘I’d rather die than be kept here.’. Pointing to his sheathed sword, she nodded in encouragement. ‘Go on, take it and run me through. That is my final wish. End my life Cullen, for without you or my son there is no reason to be here anymore. Show me a mercy and end it now.’

Moisture welled in his amber eyes as Cullen looked upon the woman. ‘Never would I be the one to end your life. I will never grant you that.’

‘Then you are weaker than I thought.’ scorned Leliana, turning away from him. ‘You deny me the honour of a clean death and instead have decided to torture me with isolation for lifetime. Pathetic.’

‘I will always care for you Leli,’ muttered Cullen ‘but that does not change the fate that awaits you now.’. Nodding to Jowan who was watching quietly from afar, Cullen proceeded to walk towards the mage.

‘I will return from time to time with supplies.’ informed Jowan ‘There is no escape from the cave, and even if there were I would advise against it. Demons do not make good friends.’

Leliana scoffed in disgust. ‘Yes, clearly my friends treat me much better.’

‘I will take care of Valahorn as my son. He will be well cared for.’ reassured Jowan ‘You have my word on that.’

‘You are going to raise him?!! A maleficar.’. Leliana spat at the mage. ‘Valahorn will one day learn of what you have done to his mother. One day I swear he will find out. And when he does I pray he burns you at the stake.’

‘It’s over Leliana, just let it be.’ muttered Cullen, reaching out to grasp Jowan’s hand. His amber eyes met her's painfully, yet he held them as Leliana glared back at him.

Whispering words under his breath, Jowan performed his incantation and in a blur of grey the pair vanished.

Leliana stepped forward quickly, waving her hand at the place they had just stood. Emptiness greeted her, and with a scowl she turned to sit on the Orlesian daybed beside her.

‘No Cullen,’ declared Leliana darkly ‘it’s never over until I say so.’

****

As the men transported back to Vörðr Falls in the Emerald Graves a silence fell across the makeshift picnic site. Without a word Cullen commenced to pack away the coat and lunch whilst Jowan lingered by a tree and waited. Occasionally the mage would glance over at the Commander, who was preoccupied on adjusting his saddlebags with a prestigious amount of interest, his eyes red and raw as he remained quiet.

Jowan finally retreated to ready his own horse and when no more time could be spared he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the silent Commander.

‘I must make my leave to Redcliffe now and see if I can speak with Ophelia.’ Jowan informed. As he proceeded to mount, the mage hesitated and turned back to the Commander. ‘We should talk about what just happened, don’t you think?’

With a tight jaw Cullen mounted his own steed, the heavy rustle of armour causing the horse to shift in anticipation of riding out. His amber eyes cast out across the waterfall, as if taking in the place to remember in later days.

‘Yes we should talk, but not today.’ Cullen answered quietly. The Commander’s cheeks looked flushed and his eyes were moist as he gripped the reins. ‘Best to put some time between what just happened before I speak about it.’

Jowan nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Safe journeys to Redcliffe.’ added Cullen ‘Not that I suspect you’ll see hide nor hair of Ophelia, but there’s no harm in trying. I appreciate you doing this. I only wish it were me riding there. After her silence for so long I fear for what has happened.’

‘She’s still the Queen of Ferelden, no matter what is going on they won’t mistreat her.’ observed the mage ‘Try not to worry too much.’

The Commander gripped his reins tighter. ‘Never make assumptions Jowan, you run the risk of being proven wrong.’

The mage frowned. ‘If she’s being held prisoner in Redcliffe castle I’ll find out one way or the other. At least we’ll know where we stand, and where to go after her when the time is right.’

‘It will have to be soon.’ warned Cullen ‘Now that Leliana is missing it won’t be too long before the Chantry come to question us all. At least your alibi is secure.’

Jowan nodded. ‘I was in Wellington for magical supplies, and then I travelled on towards Redcliffe to visit Ophelia. Yes. And yours?’

‘I rode out early this morning to meet an associate in Jader. There’s a man there who can vouch for me.’ informed the Commander ‘In fact, that is where I shall travel to now. If you need to contact me it must be at the inn there. The Copper Coin.’

‘And Michel remains at Skyhold where he’ll stay to keep us updated as to what happens over there.’ nodded Jowan ‘And Varric has agreed to procure Valahorn with the help of one of his contacts. They’ll leave with him today I’m told.’

Cullen noticed the fearful tremble in the mage’s voice at the mention of his son.

‘Varric is the best rogue in Thedas.’ reassured Cullen ‘Don’t tell him I said that, but it’s true. If he says he can safely remove your son from Skyhold without being noticed then he can.’

‘He’s agreed to meet us in a few weeks at our agreed meeting place. He’s reassured me there’s a place he, his contact and Valahorn can stay until then. I don’t know where it is. I was told the less I know the better.’

Cullen raised a cynical brow. ‘That’s reassuring coming from him.’

Extending his arm to the mage, the men shook hands in farewell.

‘Be safe in Redcliffe.’ warned Cullen, leading his horse to the well-travelled trail through the forest. ‘Don’t do anything rash.’

Jowan smiled bitterly, leading his horse in the opposite direction. ‘‘Don’t worry,’ he called back ‘I’ve caused enough trouble in Redcliffe Castle to last me for a lifetime.’ 


	112. Rogues and Cads

Firmly wrapped around the grey stone chimney, a rogue’s rope dangled loose and ready. The other end of the rope was attached snug around his thick waist as Varric perched on the rooftop quietly, just waiting and watching. He was accustomed to climbing treacherous places from his early days, when Bartrand and he explored Antivan caves for artefacts they could sell for a pretty penny in Kirkwall and Halamshiral. Bartrand never liked his feet leaving the ground so it was up to Varric to climb and manoeuvre his way through the tight spots. Despite the extra years and perhaps a few extra pounds, Varric’s hands were still strong and his reflexes quick. However never had Varric had the pleasure of scaling down a Skyhold keep wall into a bedroom, and the rogue was determined not be noticed on this occasion.

Crouching down behind the chimney, he waited until the clock struck for midday. That was when he would be ready to make his move. That would be when his own foolhardy story would truly begin.

****

Michel recalled many lessons from his youth, yet one in particular had stood out over the years.

One day the Orlesian was walking with his uncle, Comte Brevin de Chalons, down a busy street in Lydes. Michel was only a youth at the time, barely seventeen. As the pair passed by a tailor shop, they looked in the window to notice the Emperor himself standing before a large golden mirror as thousands of white swan feathers dipped in silver were sewed onto a white mink coat he was wearing. Arms stretched out in the ridiculous attire, the Emperor’s nails were also being polished gold by a small elven maid who fearfully stroked each nail with precision. The Emperor was renowned to be a mighty warrior whose skill at a blade outmatched any other. Yet as he stood there coated in feathers, fur and gold he appeared ridiculous. Michel’s uncle continued along the road, the disgust clear on his face as he stormed along the pavement. Finally he turned to Michel and said 'Vanity makes a mockery of men, Michel. You could be the greatest man in Thedas and it will mean nothing if your ego outweighs your wit. Don’t end up the fool in the shop window.’

From that day on Michel made every attempt to steer clear from the excessive vanity that many an Orlesian fell prey to, including the Emperor at the time. His uncle set a precedent for honour and shunned vanity, for he knew the pair would never stand side by side. Despite Michel’s handsome features that many praised, the Orlesian was determined from that day on never to focus on it. And while he was well aware many a stranger did focus on his handsome features and fine clothes, Michel made every attempt not to put priority to it.

Not until today.

Unbuttoning a finely embroidered black shirt to the middle of his chest, the chevalier paced into the main hall as the clocked chimed twelve. The sweet aroma of an expensive Orlesian perfume wafted into the hall and he overheard several people express their delight at a mysterious pleasant smell in the air. Not tied back in his usual manner, Michel’s light blonde hair spilled freely out across this back for all to admire and he revealed a brilliant smile as he examined the room carefully to find his intended target.

Fazio the templar.

It was lunchtime for the mages and templars at Skyhold, and the man that Michel sought was sitting at the same table Varric had reassured he sat every day at lunch. A group of templars sat at a table in the middle of the hall and at it there Fazio was, chatting amongst his peers.

Michel quickly made his way to the table of templars, placing himself directly behind Fazio. Stepping back, the chevalier stopped in his tracks and bent down to pick up a coin he was hiding up his sleeve. Turning to the table of templars, Michel held up the coin in delight.

‘I just found this sovereign here behind this gentleman. I believe it must belong to someone at this table?’

A templar on the other side of the table looked over to Michel curiously. ‘Hey Fazio, did you drop a sovereign? Look what Maister of Baldes has found behind you.’

The Antivan turned, sitting up straighter as he spotted the casually charming chevalier directly behind him. Running a hand through his long black hair, the man chuckled.

‘Since when in my life did I own a full sovereign!’ observed the Antivan, turning back to his templar friends ‘And I don’t think all you lot combined could come up with half a sovereign let alone a whole one.’

The table chuckled, and several playful scraps of bread came flying at Fazio as he turned back to Michel.

‘Finders keepers.’ exclaimed Fazio pleasantly ‘Spend it in good health Ser Michel.’

‘Guess it’s my lucky day then?’ observed Michel, flashing the man a wink and a smile as he flipped the coin in the air. ‘I’ll be sitting over there if you find out who it belongs to. Or fancy a drink? My treat.’

Feeling utterly callous and calculating Michel turned away from the surprised looking Fazio. The chevalier's heart sank as he realised again what he was trying to do. Yet he reminded himself of why it had to be done, and quickly put his troubles out of his mind.

Smiling and waving at several mages along the way, Michel finally sat at a quiet table at the end of the hall and waited for lunch to be served. His heart sunk once more as several people joined the table, including Dorian who seemed to be involved in a heated conversation with one of the mages. Michel desperately hoped his antics would go unnoticed.

Blue eyes darting across the room, Michel began the art of intrigue. It felt strange doing so with someone he had no feelings for, but to his surprise it was really no different to any other time he had played such games at court at the Winter Palace. There was no excitement but the act itself was the same. He’d catch the eye of Fazio for a moment longer than normal, only to look away, then only to repeat the game over and over again. The chevalier fell into a discussion with a mage beside him but he barely heard a word from the woman’s mouth as he continued to make eyes to the Antivan templar. And as wrong as it felt, Michel was pleased to discover Fazio caught his eye several times back until he was literally turning to look at Michel every few minutes with a small smile of his own. 

Fazio had taken the bait.

So involved in the game did the pair become, Michel failed to notice Dorian sliding across the bench to sit beside him. The Tevinter threw a curious smile at the chevalier and Michel pretended to not notice and continued to pick at his food. However the mage continued to grin enthusiastically at the chevalier and finally Michel sighed in defeat and turned to Dorian.

‘Is there something you wish to say?’ inquired Michel.

‘Several things actually.’ observed Dorian pleasantly ‘You see I can’t for the life of me understand what I’ve been privy to here? Innocently eating my lunch and spying several delicious men across the room I couldn’t help but notice your attention was somewhat…distracted. At first I thought you were flirting with the pretty red haired templar lass over there but then I realised it was the person in front of her that caught your attention.’. Dorian chuckled, taking a sip of wine. ‘And that was about the time I choked on a carrot and was done with lunch. Putting my shock aside, that Antivan templar has been smiling at you for the last twenty minutes. And stangely enough I could swear you were doing the same to him? And with that charming Orlesian smile no less? Michel tut tut tut, you are such a tease.’

Drawing a deep breath, Michel’s eyes fell hard to the food on his plate as he felt utterly humiliated. His cheeks flushed bright red knowing he had been caught out. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’ mumbled the chevalier ‘You must have imagined it?’

Dorian laughed deeply, lifting his goblet to his lips to cover his delight. ‘Now now Michel, there’s no harm in admitting such curiosities. Fazio is a beautiful man, how could you not admire all that long black hair and olive skin. Chantry men are always so mysterious and seductive.’. Turning his head to Michel, the Tevinter caught the chevalier making eyes at the templar once more. Dorian grinned as Michel realised he was caught out again.

‘Please Dorian just don’t interfere.’ whispered Michel ‘There is more to this than you realise. I can explain everything later but for now I need to be alone.’

'Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your favourite away from you. He's not into me, I've already tried.'. Dorian took another sip of wine, eager to continue the intriguing conversation. ‘You know I knew it all along. The way you only went after the Inquisitor and remained single for all that time. It made no sense? I mean Ophelia Trevelyan is sweet, but why settle for Mont Blanc when you can indulge in Crème brûlée? And you an Orlesian noble who could have anyone he wanted? It was a delicious front, wasn’t it? Let me guess, your uncle in Orlais would disapprove? Goodness if you think you’ve got it bad try meeting my father one of these days. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to pretend I’m interested in a noble’s daughter when all I’m interested in is the brother standing beside her.’

Michel felt like crawling up into a ball and dying of humiliation yet knew he had to keep up with the plan. Desperately he looked to Fazio once more and flashed him a smile. The Antivan returned it and stood up from his table.

‘So how long have you and he been interested in each other?’ asked Dorian, raising his brows. ‘What about that shrew of a woman he’s with? She’s got half a dozen kids and likes to control him like a pet hound. Talk about being in denial. Or is that his front? Well it’s not a very good one. Everyone from here to Tevinter knows where he’d choose to set his cap at.’

‘He’s coming over here, how about you make yourself scarce?’ whispered Michel, lifting his eyes with a wide smile to greet the Antivan Templar as he approached. 

Fazio threw a smile to the men at he stood before them, finally turning his attention to Michel. ‘Mind if I join you for that drink?’ he inquired in a strong Antivan accent.

‘Of course.’ exclaimed Dorian in delight.

Michel nudged the mage in leg and Dorian grinned back.

‘Oh, that’s right, I forgot I’m needed in the library.’ sighed Dorian ‘Well I better dash. You two have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’. With a wink Dorian departed, leaving the men to themselves.

Michel rolled his eyes as Fazio sat down beside him where Dorian had been.

‘You’ll have to excuse Dorian.’ apologised Michel ‘He’s a little animated at times.’. The chevalier reached for a jug and poured them both an ale. 'I'm glad you came over for a drink.'

Fazio nodded, accepting the drink with a smile. ‘To good company.’ he toasted, lifting the drink to his lips. His dark eyes lingered as he waited to catch Michel’s blue eyes.

Michel noticed and to mask his uneasiness he downed his drink in several desperate sips. He was a master at being in control of his senses but for the first time he was petrified. Grabbing the jug, Michel poured another ale. There was no time for a conscience. He had a mission and he needed to do what he was sent here to do.

****

Sitting at a table at the front of the main hall, Ginger grinned as she scoffed the last of her bread and gravy. For the last half hour or so she had been spectator to a scenario she was certain Varric had been bullshitting to her. Yet there it was, Michel de Chevin chatting up Fazio the templar. It was too good to miss, yet she knew it was time.

Jumping up out of her chair she grabbed the tray full of food beside her and scurried down the hall. Arriving at the Divine’s chambers, she knocked calmly until the door opened. Two Chantry guards stood within, and as they opened the door the question was always the same.

State your business.

Ginger had it all sorted. Holding the tray up, she nodded to the guards. ‘Eggs and bread. Lisbeth’s favourite. She asked me this morning to bring her up a tray for lunch.’

One of the guards escorted Ginger along the walkway to the chambers of the Divine, and after several quiet knocks the wet nurse Lisbeth appeared from behind the door. The wet nurse was a stern looking woman in a crisp white pinafore, with brown hair pulled tight in a bun. Hands on her hips, she appeared annoyed to have been disrupted.

‘Eh what’s this Ginger?’ frowned Lisbeth, eying the mage up and down suspiciously. ‘Kitchen gave me lunch about half an hour ago, I don’t want that. Besides why are you delivering lunches these days?’

A wide-eyed Ginger pushed the tray forward to the woman. ‘So you didn’t go into the main hall? I was worried you might have seen Fazio and Michel de Chevin together.’

The wet nurse’s eyes narrowed at the mention on her significant other. ‘What do you mean Fazio and Michel de Chevin together?’

The chantry guard appeared impatient to return to his post and nudged his head. ‘Come on, you’re not being paid to talk. Hand her the tray and move along.’

Ginger hastily nodded at Lisbeth. ‘They’re flirting with each other like crazy as we speak. Just out there in the main hall.’ informed Ginger as she was pushed along ‘Michel had his hand on Fazio’s arm and I saw Fazio was touching Michel’s hair. I swear to the Maker it’s true! You better come and break it up before it’s too late. Fazio looks smitten. They’re drinking ale and getting really close if you know what I mean!!!’

As Ginger was shoved out of the door into the main hall once more, she chuckled to herself as the door slammed shut in her face. Throwing one last glance at Michel whispering into Fazio’s ear, Ginger skipped out of the main hall with an amused grin.

****

After four ales sculled in a very short space of time, Michel felt a little better about the situation he was in. The men had chatted politely about Skyhold and Michel’s time at Denerim Palace, and now it was time for the chevalier to bring it to another level.

Leaning closer to the Antivan’s ear, Michel knew there was no time to waste.

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying,’ he observed quietly ‘but I find Antivan men to be very…uhh…very beautiful men?’. He hesitated, fumbling with his words as he tried to compliment the man. ‘Tell me if I’m reading this wrong but...um, I like your company.’

Fazio raised his brows in surprise. ‘Oh I...thank you?’ he replied, sounding more than a little shocked at the chevalier's confession. The Antivan drew a long sip from his ale, only to reveal a pleased smile. ‘To be honest, I find chevaliers to be just as beautiful?’. The templar’s eyes fell to Michel’s tresses. ‘Your hair really is like golden hay.'

The chevalier gathered some of his hair in his hand, examiníng it with a great deal of interest. 'Golden hay? I suppose so. It used to be lighter when I was younger. Almost white.'. The half-elf paused, looking over to the Antivan uncertainly. 'Would you like to touch it?'

'May I touch it?’ grinned the Antivan.

Feeling uneasy, his polite manners took over and Michel ran a hand through his hair. ‘But of course! People seem to be drawn to my hair, but really its quite a common colour if you come from Montsimmard. Everyone there has blonde hair and blue eyes.’

Fazio ran a subtle hand through Michel’s hair, a smile on his face. ‘It’s striking,' he murmured 'and so are you.’. His dark eyes turned to the gossiping main hall, where most people were now staring at the men in absolute shock. ‘You realise everyone here is staring at us?’ he added in amusement.

Michel’s heart dropped for he was well aware of the spectacle he was making. Yet Varric’s voice lingered in the back of his head threatening him to keep on going.

The Orlesian shrugged with a smile, taking a sip of his ale. ‘It’s when people stop noticing you that you should be concerned.’

Fazio laughed, knocking his flagon playfully against Michel’s. ‘Well cheers to that!’

His hand playfully ran over the chevaliers when a terrible screech filled the hall. Both men, and indeed everyone there, turned to the front of the hall where a wild-eyed woman dressed in a white pinafore came storming down towards Fazio and Michel.

‘What in the Maker’s bones is this?!’ screamed Lisbeth, bustling up to the men. Her beady eyes glared at the furiously, looking from one to the other. ‘You think can make a mockery of me, Fazio, with this frog eating buffoon?! You think I wouldn’t find out!!??’

Michel’s brows lifted in surprise, placing a protective hand on Fazio’s shoulder. ‘Madame you must calm down.’ appealed the chevalier ‘That is no way to talk to a templar of the Order.’

Fazio jumped up off his seat, fearing for his life as Lisbeth fumed at the chevalier. ‘Please my love, there is nothing happening here? It is just two friends sharing lunch. Ask anyone.’

The woman spat at his feet. ‘Oh aye, why then did someone feel the need to warn me all your lunch sharing? You leathern jerkin, puke-stocking, caddis-garter Antivan-poddock! I should hang you from your boots until the next full moon!’

‘Come sit and talk with us, I assure you this is a misunderstanding.’ appealed Fazio. Turning to Michel he nodded desperately, silently appealing the man to agree. 

Michel shrugged, taking a sip of ale instead. 

‘I’m supposed to be looking after the Divine’s child!’ yelled Lisbeth ‘Some of us are working proper jobs while you squander all our coin on entertaining men behind my back! We'll talk about this later, I’ve got important things to do.’

Michel rolled his eyes, pretending to be disgusted as he snorted at the comment. Lisbeth noticed and held her ham fist at him in a threatening manner.

‘You got something to say fancy man?’ she growled.

The chevalier knew he had to keep Lisbeth in the hall as long as he could. Michel turned to Fazio, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Why are you with this troll?’

Fazio’s eyes widened in horror, incapable of words upon hearing the slight. Michel chuckled at the reaction, but in turn failed to see Lisbeth’s fist fall square into his jaw. The Orlesian was knocked clean off his chair, and the main hall fell into a roar of voices as they gathered closer to see the fight.

‘Come on then.’ yelled the woman, raising her knuckles. ‘I challenge you to a round of Fisticuffs ye damn frog eater. Chevalier my arse, I’ll whip your hide ten times over.’

‘Mon dieu.’ muttered Michel, pulling himself off the floor. He waved his hand at the woman, shaking his head. ‘My apologies but I do not fight washing maids, even when they make the first move.’.

Landing another punch, Michel was able to deflect Lisbeth's fist with his forearm. A curl of a smile fell on his amused face as the crowd laughed at the flustered woman screaming obscenities at the chevalier. Her face grew bright red as she screamed at the man.

‘Who you calling a flaming washing maid!’ roared the woman ‘I serve the Divine.’

‘I meant no offence,’ grinned Michel ‘I only meant you had the appearance of a washing woman.’

Quickly he deflected another punch that came flying at his face.

‘Lisbeth please, don’t do this!’ appealed Fazio, looking about the hall in embarrassment. ‘Everyone is watching.’

‘Yes, please listen to your man.’ observed Michel arrogantly ‘I can see now why he’s got a wandering eye.’. Turning to Fazio, the Orlesian raised his brows. 'You can do a lot better than this one.'

Furiously the woman grabbed a jug from the table and hurled it at the chevalier. Michel swiftly ducked, but the heavy pewter jug hit a templar behind him hard in the cheekbone. Blood spilled from the deep cut and this in turn caused much chaos, and soon several templars were grabbing Lisbeth and taking her to the cells to cool off.

Fazio ran after Lisbeth as she was dragged away, begging her to calm down, while the rest of the crowd in the main hall watched on is fascination. Dabbing his bloodied nose, the chevalier bowed to the amused crowd before turning to leave.

The walk down the hall was a long and embarrassing one, but Michel could not help but smile as he heard the loud yelling of Lisbeth all the way to the prisons.

****

Perched on the edge of the keep, Varric waited and watched with his mirror on a rod contraption. A city elf from Kirkwall came up with the invention and Varric believed it to be ingenious from the moment he laid eyes on it in the merchant square. The metal rod was the length of a hand but extended out several feet, and at the end was a looking glass that flipped out. It made Varric’s job easy as he used it to gain sight of what was happening in the chambers below. The moment the wet nurse Lisbeth stormed out of the room he was quick to abseil onto the chamber balcony without a moment’s delay.

‘Sparrow, that’s one heck of a view you had!’ whistled Varric as he landed his feet onto the stone balcony. 

Wasting no time he entered the chambers and made his way to the cot, where a small baby boy lay peacefully awake and staring up at the star mobile on his crib. Tiny fingers extended towards the dwarf and Varric found himself smiling at the baby, forgetting for a moment why he was in the room.

Gently Varric lifted the child and swaddled the boy secure, placing him in a linen wrap already tied around his chest. His agent in Kirkwall had given him it to abseil down the wall safely with the baby, although if he was being honest Varric was scared witless about attempting the feat.

Returning to the balcony, Varric retireved another rope from his pack and tied it to the pillars. Wrapping the rope around him once more he climbed over the balcony and began to lower himself down. Humming nervously under his breath, he tried to calm the baby was fussing over being moved about in his wrap. Below Varric could see his agent, Mary Greethatch, patiently waiting to take Valahorn and leave Skyhold once and for all.

The wild winds coming from the mountains made the abseil down the balcony difficult, but slowly and surely the dwarf ascended with the baby.

‘Thank the flaming Maker.’ muttered Varric as his feet landed once more on solid ground.

‘You okay Varric?’ asked Mary as she took the baby from the shaking dwarf. ‘Look a bit peaky there.'

Rubbing his neck, Varric nodded with a grin. ‘Scared shitless but happy to be alive. Go on, get out of here. Any moment now the bells are going to sound when they realise the kid is gone.’

Not wasting another moment Mary nodded and set off with Valahorn in her arms. Varric too darted off, sneaking his way back to The Herald’s Rest where he would claim he had been drinking for the entire day should anyone need to know.

****

The journey that night was peaceful as Jowan rode into Redcliffe. With a full moon in a clear night sky, the fields were covered with a soft glow of light that made the wheat sheaths occasionally shimmer as he passed by. The serenity was reassuring and lulled him into a false sense of security for he knew this journey was anything but safe. But he could not help feel at peace with the realm at that very moment. With Leliana finally locked away, and his son soon to be with him, Jowan had much cause for cheer. No longer did he have to serve the deathly role of Left Hand to a woman he despised and secretly feared. No longer did he have to live knowing his son would grow never to know who he was. For the first time ever Jowan was hopeful to begin thinking of a new life with his son, and that made him hopeful of better days ahead.

Knowing his arrival at the castle gates would be rejected at this hour Jowan was nevertheless in good spirits so decided to ride up and inquire as to what time the castle would accept appearances the next day. He knew the sooner he could arrange to speak to Ophelia the better.

Spotting the large gates of Redcliffe Castle in the far distance, Jowan frowned as the memories of former years filled his mind. There was so much chaos surrounding that time and for his part none of it was his actual intention. Jowan had fled the Ferelden Circle a broken young man, mourning the sad departure from his love in such a terrible set of circumstances that forced him to reveal his maleficar tendencies. Perhaps Jowan would be remembered as the evil mage that poisoned the Arl and led Connor astray, but he knew that couldn’t have been more further from the truth. Jowan had been the one led astray. He had been the victim. Loghain Mac Tier had offered him a chance to atone for his practice of blood magic at the tower and foolishly the young Jowan had accepted. Some part of him hoped he would be pardoned of his former discrepancies. Some part of him believed it was the only way to get Lily to ever forgive him. How wrong he had been.

The heavy gallop of hooves sounded in the quiet of night, and a guard rode half way down the road to meet Jowan.

‘Halt stranger, speak your business.’ called out the guard ‘You are on the lands of Arl Teagan Guerrin and late is the hour.’

Jowan slowed his horse as the guard stopped in front of him.

‘My name is Jowan MacLothlorian and I am a close friend to Queen Ophelia.’ announced the mage ‘I come from Skyhold and am here only to inquire at what time tomorrow is suitable to request an audience with the queen?’

Squinting in the dark, the guard’s stern face suddenly looked surprised. ‘Jowan? That name sounds familiar.’

The mage shifted uneasily in his saddle, anticipating an onslaught of hostility as his past was about to be brought up. He envisioned cursing and foul obscenities and everything in between. Jowan the evil maleficar. Jowan the blood mage. He would be lucky not to be thrown out of Redcliffe village unscathed.

‘Aye!’ smiled the guard, clapping his hands warmly ‘You’re the mage that replaced Athalwolf Guildersleeve at Skyhold! I remember you! You used to make this top-notch tea for all your mages at elevensies. You were good enough to let some of us grunts get a cup as well. And a biscuit or two.’

With a relieved smile, Jowan nodded. ‘Yes, I’m the guilty party there. Bergamot tea with citrus. I always thought eleven was the best time to serve that brew. Naturally, the more who enjoyed it the merrier.’

The guard clicked his fingers. ‘Maker be praised, that’s the stuff! You can’t get it down here, I searched for it a few times. Ferelden red bush is the only bloody tea round here and it tastes like dirt.’

‘Bergamot tea is Orlesian.’ informed Jowan politely ‘If you ever find yourself in Jader they have a merchant in the square that sells it in large tins every Wednesday and Saturday.’

The guard chuckled, appearing pleased. ‘Good to know! Well, sorry to be the barer of bad news but Redcliffe Castle is closed until the King returns. We’re under strict orders here.’

Jowan raised his brows in surprise, pretending to be innocently shocked. ‘Oh? I hope nothing is wrong?’

‘Bah, there’s nothing wrong.’ replied the guard ‘Just a precaution while the darkspawn are running wild in Ostagar. Didn’t want any trouble coming to the Queen. You know, just in case.’

‘Well yes, I can understand that.’ agreed Jowan ‘The thing is, I’ve several important matters regarding the Mage Order that I need to discuss with Queen Ophelia. And I’ve sent several letters to her over the last few weeks and none of them have been answered? I began to grow rather concerned.’

‘Aye is that so? Don’t know much about that I’m afraid.’. Laughing nervously the guard tightened the grip of his reins, and his horse shifted in irritation. It was apparent the guard was privy to more than he was letting on. ‘Can’t really say why you wouldn’t be getting any letters from here?’

Jowan raised his palm gently. ‘Oh I’m sorry, I did not come here to pry. It’s obvious there is much more to this situation and I don’t want to get you in trouble. I shall leave and report this issue back to Skyhold.’

‘Nay.’ replied the guard quickly, appearing fearful at the prospect of word being spread. ‘Don’t be reporting anything yet. It’s just…’. The man turned his head, checking to see there was no guards behind him. There was no one. ‘Look, it’s just we’re not supposed to talk about what happens in the castle. Private matters behind closed doors and all that.’

‘You have my sworn secrecy.’ reassured Jowan ‘I come here on official business on behalf of the Order, but that aside my concern is for my friend. Whatever you tell me I promise will not go back to Skyhold. If you can tell me something?’

The guard bit his lip, mulling over whether to say something. ‘Well not that I’m rostered in the actual castle but you hear things, you know? Whisperings of the goings on. Apparently Arl Eamon has been strict on the Queen’s comings and goings and the Queen ain’t all too pleased to be confined to the place. Can’t blame her really, she’s been in there over a month now. But I reckon Eamon would be in charge of her letters also…might be the reason you ain’t gettin’ a reply?’

Jowan was clearly missing something and he couldn’t understand the situation being painted. ‘Yes, but the darkspawn were spotted in Ostagar. Why would the Queen be kept in a siege like situation? Redcliffe Castle is nowhere near the danger. Why is she so confined? Can she at least visit the village?’

‘Nay,’ replied the guard ‘we’ve got our orders from Arl Eamon you see? He’s instructed her to be kept in the castle at all times. And he’s got her watched like a hawk I’m told. And apparently they are at each other like cats and dogs. Yelling and cursing at each other like you wouldn’t believe…or so I’m told.’

‘Can’t say I blame her being angry.’ pointed out Jowan ‘You’d think a queen would be in charge over the Arl of Denerim? How is it that Eamon is calling the shots here?’

The guard shrugged. ‘I dunno, we just have our orders and King Alistair left the Arl in charge while he was gone. At the end of the day the king’s orders are the only orders. Mind you, I think something else happened recently. We had a half a dozen or so staff quit their positions near on two weeks ago. They wouldn’t say what had happened though. Tight lipped as they come. Guessin they were paid mighty handsome to keep their mouths shut. But still, I don’t know any Ferelden in their right mind giving up a job at working at the Castle. The wages are good and Arl Teagan is a fair master. Nay, I’d say something else happened.’

‘Curious indeed.’ frowned Jowan.

‘Awful sorry you came all this way for nothing, but without the king those gates are to be kept shut.’

The mage nodded. ‘That is unfortunate. I’m afraid these matters I need to discuss with the Queen are quite important and cannot wait.’

‘We had word the king is returning from Ostagar. You know, as we speak. Might be a few days, but if you’re willing to wait in the village you might have your chance to see the queen soon enough?’ suggested the guard ‘The Grey Wardens’ Rest serves a mighty good ale and has fair lodgings. Bella gives good rates for those who served in the Inquisition. Just say the word and she’ll have you sorted.’

Jowan sighed, knowing it was fruitless to try and pressure his way in before Alistair returned. ‘I suppose a few days in Redcliffe can’t hurt? Thank you for your help.’

‘Don’t mention it. Any friend of the Inquisition is a friend of mine’ observed the guard with a warm smile. ‘Well, best get back to it!’

Nodding his head the guard turned his horse and rode back along the road up towards the castle gates.

‘So, they do have you locked away in the castle.’ observed Jowan quietly, his eyes narrowing at the dark looming fortress before him. ‘The question is how long does Ferelden plan on hiding you from the world? And why?’

Lost in his thoughts, the mage turned towards the village once more. He was determined not to leave without seeing his friend. One way or the other, he was going to speak to the Queen and finally find out what was going on.


	113. To Chase a Hope

_Silence will call me,_

_to rivers I weep,_

_climbing willow I call,_

_until swiftly I fall,_

_coldness will come to me,_

_madness my brink,_

_floating in water,_

_to the depths I shall sink._

After failing to escape Redcliffe Castle and the despair of my downward spiraling reality, I began to feel…_tired_. It was hard to explain the exact sensation, but I likened it to climbing a great cliff and feeling as if I couldn’t pull myself up an inch further, only to look up and realise I couldn’t see the top.

_I couldn’t go on climbing this mountain._

Alone in my chambers the long days left me feeling cold on the inside. That uneasy feeling soon transformed into fever and pain throughout my limbs, and with it a tiredness that couldn’t be battled. So I slept for many hours both night and day, and when I wasn’t sleeping I lingered near the bucket by my bed and tried to stave off the retching. Shivering under the bed sheets I drifted in and out of sleep as the days passed by. Clouded images of Cullen often filled my head and made me wake with a painful heart. What felt real was no more than a dream and the reality I woke to each time encouraged me to fall back into a deep sleep once more.

I was too exhausted to fight this battle. After everything that had happened over the last few years I didn’t feel I could go on. After everything that happened I didn’t wish to go on.

As I struggled through this time, the lack of empathy from the servants was apparent. They knocked sharply on my door for meals and to come and remove the chamber pot. Apart from that the door remained locked and the cuff on my wrist that prevented me from casting magic remained tightly secured. Eamon never once came to talk to me, nor any other person.

I was completely alone.

That particular mid-morning I spent the day like all the others that were now painfully morphing into each other. By the window in my room I sat, desperate for a little sunlight as I shivered under the blanket wrapped around my shoulders. My breakfast remained untouched before me, the cold porridge now formed in a hard lump and the tea an icy water. On any other morning the untouched tray would have been promptly collected by now, however on this morning the servants were not to be seen. Drifting in and out of sleep as my head rested against the wooden frame, I was roused by a rumble of hooves in the distance and the faint sound of royal trumpets. There was only one reason for such a reception to come to Redcliffe that morning.

Finally, Alistair had returned from Ostagar.

An hour went by and drifting in and out of sleep I waited, anticipating that door to swing open at any moment. Riddled with an anxiety that confinement often creates, I almost felt concerned that my chamber door would at last open. And finally, a soft knock came and the door was unlocked.

Bracing myself for any possibility, from aggression to amicability, I remained by the window as the door opened and in stepped the King of Ferelden. Alistair still had his royal blue riding cloak and armour on and his boots were coated in red mud. The man clearly had jumped off his horse and had little interest in securing his comfort before attending to other matters. Matters such as his imprisoned queen.

Alistair threw me a pair of worried eyes and shook his head apologetically, extending a concerned hand.

‘I’m so sorry.’ he began desperately ‘I’ve no words for what has happened here. I can’t…no I can’t…’. He shook his head in disbelief, drawing closer to me by the window. ‘…I can’t even begin to understand what Eamon was thinking by doing this to you. It’s abhorrent! Utterly cruel and disrespectful. You have to know I’ve sent the old fool away. He’s already dragging his heels back to Denerim. I’ve spent the last half hour yelling at the man for being the biggest twat Thedas has ever seen. He’s going to pay for this Ophelia. I swear it, Eamon will be punished for acting so out of line and treating you like this.’

Alistair’s hand touched my arm gently but I recoiled in anger. I wasn’t ready to forgive any of them. If I had the strength I would have yelled at him, but as it was all I could muster was to move my arm away.

‘Get away from me.’ I replied softly ‘Your concern for me comes too late, as usual.’

Alistair appeared startled at my reaction but not surprised at my hostility.

‘Ophelia you have every right to be annoyed,’ he observed gently ‘but please understand this is never how I expected Eamon to act when I was away. Not in a million years would I approve of this.’

Tiredly I closed my eyes, more interested in sleeping than conversing. ‘Annoyed?’ I murmured ‘You do realise I’ve been locked up in this room for weeks now? That was after my hand was forced and I tried to escape this nightmare. Eamon punished me well enough for that as you can see. And before that I was trapped in this castle and never allowed to go anywhere. Your uncle has had me followed around by two women whose only job was to watch me at all times.’. Drawing my eyes open, I turned to look at the solemn king before me. ‘I suppose all that equates to being annoyed?’

Alistair stepped closer, his voice growing softer. ‘My love, I’m so sorry. I never said he could do that. No one sent me word to Ostagar with any concern that the Arl was acting inappropriately. I would never have allowed it had I known.’

‘You left him in charge.’ I muttered ‘Does your ignorance really excuse your part in all this?’

‘I was hurt.’ replied Alistair defensively ‘When I realised that you and Michel were still involved naturally I felt hurt.’. Shaking his head, he sighed. ‘Fine I was hurt and angry. And at that moment I was about to leave for Ostagar to fight the Darkspawn. I couldn’t think straight. I unwisely left Eamon in charge. I admit it was a move to hurt your pride, but never did I think it would have led to you being locked in this room! I mean, who does that?’

A shiver of coldness crept over my skin as I reached for my second blanket on the table beside me. Wrapping it around my shoulders, I threw the man a defeated look. ‘What do you want from me? I won’t stand here and deny what happened between Michel and I. Yet you never considered to speak to me about it? One small conversation before you rode off to play hero with the Wardens? Did I not at least deserve that?’

‘You have to grant me some leniency here.’ pointed out Alistair ‘You and Michel had deceived me. Did either of you think that wouldn’t tear me to shreds when I found out? Michel took something that was not his to have.’

Laughing bitterly at the comment, I couldn’t believe the irony. ‘Perhaps you are beginning to understand how Cullen and I felt when you took something that wasn’t yours to have? You think you have any right over me? You don’t. You took me from my fiancé using your position as king and your influence over the Inquisition.’

Alistair grew rigid at the comment, crossing his hands against his chest a little defensively. ‘You’re my wife Ophelia. There have been moments during our marriage that were genuine. And I know in my heart that Michel and Cullen were not in your mind when we shared those moments.’. The man sighed tiredly. ‘I don’t have a right over you, but I know we shared something. Michel had no right to come in-between that.’

Alistair had no right to come in-between Cullen and I. My anger was boiling up within me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Indeed, my skin felt as if it was burning like the full sun beating down on steel armour in the middle of the day…and yet still I felt strangely cold?

‘You want to know the details then?’ I informed darkly, intent on hurting the man ‘I slept with Michel once at Denerim Palace. Just once. It was on the morning after our wedding. And perhaps there was a time when I felt guilty for doing that to you, but not anymore. Not now that I’ve experienced how you and your people treat their beloved queen. I see who you are now Alistair. Cullen warned me and I refused to see it. But I see it now.’

Drawing his hands to his head, Alistair yelled out in frustration. ‘I’m so sick of that man. Cullen doesn’t know the first thing about me. He's the last person you should be taking counsel from. Look, what has happened here is unfathomable. Both Teagan and I were outraged when we arrived to find out what Eamon and the members of this castle had done to you. I accept what has happened with you and Michel has happened. There is nothing I can do to change it and I will not dwell on it now. I’m not going to argue that topic with you. All I know is Eamon has clearly taken a vendetta against you and he will be punished for it.’

Resting my head against the wall, I turned my attention back to the window. Too much energy had been spent on talking to the man and I was exhausted. ‘It doesn’t matter because it’s already happened.’ I murmured ‘What’s happened has happened and the people of Ferelden have revealed their true nature. I have revealed mine and they have revealed there’s. Locking me in a room with nothing but a few books…’. Laughing at the ludicrous nature of the scenario and feeling half delirious with the sheer mental torture of it all, I shook my head. ‘Eamon didn’t even let me stretch my legs in the courtyard. Even the prisoners in the cell are given that courtesy. Can you believe I actually watched the prisoners every day from my window enjoy that luxury as I remained trapped in this cursed room?! But everyone in this castle looked the other way. What has happened here has changed everything. Yes…I should have fought harder at Skyhold. I should have never agreed to take that damn carriage to Denerim to be your wife.’

‘Ophelia? Are you alright’. Alistair frowned, noticing the sweat glistening on my brow. He hastily approached and placed a hand on my forehead, only to seize up in fear. ‘Maker’s breath you’re so hot. What has happened to you?’

Desperately the king lunged for the bell near my bed and rang it violently before heading to the door.

‘Someone get a physician; the Queen is sick!’ he roared ‘Hurry now! Bring someone at once! GET HELP!!!’

‘There’s nothing to be done, all is lost.’ I replied tiredly, drawing the blanket tighter around my shoulders. ‘This sickness has been my only company, don’t send it away now.’. Laughing as my teeth rattled from shivering, I clicked my fingers at Alistair ‘My sickness has been here always keeping me entertained, you should be rewarding it with land and title.’

Fearfully Alistair approached, grabbing my hands in his. ‘You’re not well, come lay down.’

Weakly I pulled my hands away and remained by the window. ‘How can I be unwell? I called for help but no one came to help me.’ I murmured ‘Never mind. Close the door and leave me to my prison. For that’s my life now. From one prison to another I seem to jump. Mage, Inquisitor, Queen. Different titles, same role.’. My eyes drifted shut, and I shook my head violently trying to rouse myself. ‘A king can misbehave, but a queen cannot. So be careful, Ophelia. The king is a king but a queen is no better than a servant. Servants to a dying flame. Yielder of the sword and worshipper of the righteous….all will be disappointed in…all will be disappointed in the end.’

Muffled cries of several concerned voices filled my ears, but I couldn’t make out what was being said as darkness fell upon me. The last thing I remember was collapsing into the arms of a terrified king.

****

After several days of entertaining the warm hospitality at The Warden’s Rest, Jowan felt a little saddened to leave when he finally got word that King Alistair had returned to Redcliffe Castle.

The village was bustling with celebration at the prospect that their king was returning victorious from Ostagar. The market square was filled with merchants and entertainers that morning as Jowan made his way up to the castle. Honey mead was being served by the bucket full while the jovial tune of lutes played and the loud chatter of men and women lifted up to the cliffs where Jowan led his horse. He cast his eyes down to catch a final glimpse of the happy crowd as he rode onwards.

At the castle gates that morning Jowan was determined to finally get his audience with Ophelia. He announced himself to the guard, a new one posted there that he did not recognise, and after a short interval the mage was surprised to see Alistair Theirin himself rushing down the steps of the castle and across the courtyard. The king yelled out for the gates to be opened and the guards hastily obeyed. The metal frame groaned as it was lifted, and Alistair rushed forward as it barely raised above his head, eagerly to shake Jowan’s hand.

‘Jowan thank goodness you of all people have come to us at this time.’ exclaimed Alistair. The king looked extremely vexed as he gripped the mage’s hand tight. His brown eyes were bloodshot and tired, and it was clear that something was terribly wrong.

‘Your Majesty.’ replied Jowan apprehensively ‘I hope everything is well?’.

Alistair shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid I’ve returned to the castle to find Ophelia has fallen gravely ill. The castle physician has tended to her but he is at a loss as to what to do? I’ve sent for the healers at Denerim and the clerics of the White River, but none of them will arrive here for days. Michel de Chevin once told me of how you healed him of a terrible wound in the Western Approach. Could you please take a look at Ophelia? Please Jowan, I’m desperate.’

‘Of course, lead the way.’ replied Jowan swiftly, casting a concerned look towards the castle. 

Without a moment’s delay the men hastily made their way across the stone courtyard, eager to help the ill queen.

****

Quietly Jowan closed the chamber door behind him, only to be greeted by a desperately worried king who was pacing by the entrance. Alistair had been walking the corridor for near an hour as Jowan had been examining Ophelia in her chambers and waiting for any advice.

‘Have you any idea what ails her?’ asked Alistair hastily, before Jowan had even fully turned around. ‘Is there anything you need to treat her? I can bring whatever you need. Just say the word and it’s yours.’

Never was the mage lost for words, yet Jowan found himself unable to find muster a sentence as he struggled with such a heaviness in his stomach. His hands held a slight tremor and the shock on his face was hard to conceal. Never had he expected to see his friend in such a state. Never had he imagined that anything like this could have happened to Ophelia.

‘Alistair, she is very unwell.’ Jowan informed quietly ‘She is completely unresponsive and burns with a fever despite everything that your physician has done for her. And he has done everything that he can to help bring down the fever. There is nothing he has done that I would not have tried myself.’

The king nodded, rubbing his hands anxiously. ‘Yes, but there must be something else that you can do? What now? Where do we go from here?’

The mage hesitated, not knowing what to say. His black eyes lowered, unwilling to answer what he knew was the terrible truth, yet he knew that Alistair deserved to know.

‘Alistair,’ began Jowan gently ‘I’ve seen enough injured to know a fever this strong that goes on for this amount of time with little sign of improvement is a bad sign. It’s a brain fever. Few wake up from it and the ones that do suffer terribly in the aftermath. The mind tends to become severely addled, as if the fever burns one’s sanity away with it. It is a terrible outcome either way, but some would say death is the kinder result.’

‘No, I cannot accept that. She can wake from this. She will wake from this.’ The king shook his head, refusing to listen. His eyes were moist as he looked away from Jowan. ‘What of the child?’ asked Alistair quietly ‘Eamon mentioned to me that they suspected Ophelia was with child. Do you think she is with child? And if so, will this sickness affect the child also?’

‘From what your people here at the castle have informed me, I’ve no doubt Ophelia carries your child.’ acknowledged Jowan ‘But it is of little matter now.’. Jowan’s dark eyes blinked sadly at the man before him. ‘Alistair do you not understand? She is gravely ill. It is highly doubtful Ophelia will survive this. Her body cannot fight whatever it is that ails her. I’ve seen it many times when I was living in the Chantry as a boy, especially in the colder months. A winter sickness would take hold and many that succumbed to it would be the pregnant women and the elderly. I suspect Ophelia being pregnant means her body is weakened already, and this ailment is stronger than she can battle. She has gotten progressively worse for weeks now. From everything your staff have informed me, this sickness has been around for a while and gradually she has gotten worse. Perhaps had we treated her sooner she would have stood a chance? It is hard to say. However now she cannot even wake from this fever that is burning her body. I’m so sorry but you must prepare yourself. I fear...’. Jowan swallowed hard, his mouth dry and struggling to say the words. ‘...I fear she is dying.’

The king’s eyes grew red as tears fell and for several minutes grief overcame the man. Finally he roughly wiped his wrist against his eyes, as if still refusing to accept what Jowan was saying. ‘No.’ he replied adamantly ‘There has to be something we can do? You have magic. Surely there is something? A spell or something? Anything?!’

Jowan shook his head apologetically. ‘With the Order of Magi at your doorstep, you have every spell possible at your disposal and yet I fear it would still not help. There is no spell to cure the dying. When your uncle Eamon was poisoned by my own hand all those years ago, he was dying. That is why no one could heal him. It took the ashes of Andraste herself to bring him back to us. I fear Ophelia will not be so lucky as your uncle was.’

‘That is not what I meant.’ retorted Alistair, taking a step closer to the mage. Lowering his voice, he appealed to the man before him. ‘Look I know that you were like Sierra in your practice of blood magic. I know there is another type of magic more powerful out there…for those who would seek it?’

Jowan’s black eyes turned away, sadder than even before. ‘Not even blood magic will save Ophelia in her present state. It’s not the power of the spell we need right now, but a deal to change the outcome of her fate.’

Alistair frowned. ‘A deal? What deal?’

‘There was a time when I could have procured a deal, but I know better these days.’ explained Jowan ‘Making deals with demons is not the path you or Ophelia would wish to go down. Trust me on this. And for what it’s worth, I do not think in her case it would be an option.’

‘Demons.’ Alistair muttered in disgust. The king turned away from the mage, pacing the room as he fell deep into his thoughts. Finally he turned back, appearing crestfallen at what he was about to ask. ‘Can she and the child be saved if a deal was to be made?’ Alistair whispered ‘Do not look at me like that Jowan, I ask a serious question. Can they be saved if a deal was made?’

‘What demon in their right mind would help her?’ replied Jowan darkly ‘This is the Inquisitor we’re talking about here. The one that defeated Corypheus and his demon army. The one that has been sending demons back into the fade from the rifts in the sky. They despise her more than anyone else in Thedas for what she has done to their kind. Demons hold a grudge and there is none they would hate more than Ophelia.’

‘Yes but I am the king. They can have anything they want.’ argued Alistair ‘You must try or else we will never know. Please Jowan. If there is a chance, even a small one, please save her. Please I’m begging you.’

Jowan looked at Alistair with pity, knowing the man did not fully understand what he was asking. Too often the mage was faced with the blindness that grief presented, always appealing him to cast dark magic. Whether it be peasant or king, they were all the same. Painfully oblivious to what they were actually asking.

‘Mortal wealth is not something demons ask for.’ informed the mage ‘They ask for their freedom into the realm. That is all they ever ask for. Would you risk the lives of the innocents to be slain for the sake of one person? Do you think Ophelia would want you to do that? After all the lives she tried to save, do you think she would want to exchange her life for potentially hundreds of innocents? For when the demon is released into Thedas that is what will happen. There is always a price to pay, and it is always a terrible one.’

Running an uneasy hand through his hair, Alistair nodded. ‘I understand what you are saying but she is my wife, Jowan. And she carries my unborn child. I cannot abandon either of them if there is something to be done, even as terrible as that. I know that is selfish and what I ask is wrong, and Maker punish me for it, but it cannot be helped. I’m begging you to do this for me. You can have all the riches of the kingdom, any title you want. I will give you anything and everything if you just save them.’

‘There is more than one person here that wants to see her live.’ murmured Jowan ‘As I said there is little chance of me being able to secure a deal but…I will attempt to make one.’

Alistair embraced the mage strongly, sobbing into his neck as he held him close. ‘Thank you Jowan. Thank you.’

Grief filled the mage’s heart as he cradled the distraught king. All matters of prior days seemed to fade away into insignificance as he came face to face with a husband that clearly loved his wife. A love that selfishly cast aside morality and ethics to secure his own happiness, and yet in that very act it was clear that love made people do beautiful, and terrible, things.

‘Alistair I can promise you nothing but I will do my best.’ reassured Jowan.

Alistair nodded, wiping his wet eyes as he stepped back from the mage. ‘What can I do? Is there anything you need?’

‘First we must move Ophelia to another room. A much larger one if possible? Make sure it is full of sunlight and fresh air, although for this rite I am to perform I must ask that the curtains are drawn shut and privacy is ensured. Make sure all your staff are well away from the room, for all matters of foulness may sound from within and you will have no explanation for it if a stray ear passes by. We need cold compresses on her forehead the entire time, and all the garlic, elfroot and comfrey you can muster. I’ll need buckets of salt, and an alchemist chest if you have one in the castle?’

‘I want to be there when you make this deal.’ informed Alistair ‘I must make my case, even if it is for nothing.’

Jowan nodded reluctantly, knowing no good could come of it. ‘Demons are selfish and cruel entities, they would laugh at your misery rather than condole with you. Alistair I must warn you – whatever is beyond the fade hoping to make a deal is not a creature you wish to have in your mind for the rest of your days. You could have the saddest tale to tell them and they would take delight in your misfortune. Please do not hope to appeal to their empathy for they do not have any. They are vile creatures.’

Alistair placed a reassuring hand on the mage. ‘Jowan you forget I walked into the Fade with Ophelia once. I know what lies beyond. I am not afraid, but I need to be there in case this demon wants reassurances it will get what it needs. Whatever it needs I can at least stand there as the King of Ferelden and it will know that I mean what I say.’

‘Then we must prepare immediately,’ warned Jowan ‘I fear time may not be on our side. There is one more thing I urge you to do.’. Jowan bit his lip, knowing Alistair would not appreciate what he was about to ask. ‘You must write to Cullen at The Copper Coin in Jader and Michel de Chevin at Skyhold. They care dearly for Ophelia. All differences aside, that is something you all share in common. Please let them have the chance to say goodbye as it may come to that.’

A tear trickled down his cheek as Alistair clenched his jaw with a nod. ‘It is the least I can do,’ he agreed ‘I know she would want them with her. Yes, you have my word. I fear to delay this any longer, I will go now and arrange everything as quickly as I can.’

Jowan placed his hand on the king, desperate to make the man understand what he feared. ‘Alistair you…. you must know that there is a high chance this will not work. I do not think a demon will make a deal. If that is the case it is likely Ophelia will die. You must ready yourself for that outcome.’

The king clasped Jowan’s hand firmly and threw him a determined nod. ‘I know my friend, but I will chase a hope while there is one to be chased.’

As Alistair ran off to arrange their new plans, Jowan reluctantly turned back to the chamber door. His trembling pale hand hesitated on the doorknob and the mage struggled to turn it as he broke down into a devastated sob of his own, tears falling heavy for a friend that he knew would never wake. 


	114. The Falcons

Two winged messengers flew fast that morning, flapping their brown feathery wings rapidly towards the mountain ranges. As the flourishing farms and green valleys transformed into jagged rock and wild forest, the falcons parted ways with a heavy swoosh of their wings. One flew south while the other flew west, the sharp flap of their feathers clapping against the rough icy wind. Their shrill calls echoed into endless skies that fell on empty ears as they pressed on.

The messenger flying south continued higher and higher into the Frostback Mountains and finally landed it’s leathery talons at the rookery of Skyhold that early afternoon. It screeched loudly at a surprised handler who was scattering cubes of meat out for the ravens.

With a curious frown the man stroked the bird’s downy plumage as he gently coaxed the scroll attached to its leg. It was apparent to the handler that this was no ordinary carrier bird, but a royal falcon from the Kingdom of Ferelden itself. The sealed message was addressed to Ser Michel de Chevin, and the bird handler hastily ordered a serving girl to deliver the note immediately.

****

Stretching her pale arms under the warm sunlight in the courtyard, Morrigan held a pleased smile on her lips. A warm wind rustled through the burnt umber maple leaves above her and the scent of sun-baked honeysuckles filled the garden. Such a moment was idyllic, if not perfect for the witch of the wilds. However the bliss she was feeling had nothing to do with the weather. In fact, had Morrigan been stuck in the middle of a snowy blizzard and her arms frozen solid she would have still held that pleasant smile.

News had spread like wildfire throughout Thedas when it was learnt that the Divine and her child had been declared officially missing by the Chantry. The bells at Skyhold chimed loudly as a warning that something terrible had occurred, and the people of Skyhold soon discovered the shocking news of Leliana and her son’s disappearance.

An army of furious Chantry guards soon swarmed the keep, desperately turning over every part of the fortress for any clue as to where the pair had been taken. The residents of Skyhold were all treated as guilty suspects, and the Chantry officials demanded answers with a prestigious amount of hostility. No chest at the end of ones bed was spared as they rifled through the possessions of every person, casting aside common courtesy as wardrobes were searched and personal letters were read. Chaos prevailed as long interrogations were conducted late into the night and even the children were not spared the long hours of questioning.

During the unpleasant process the mages and templars had grown somewhat united in their shared contempt for the Chantry invading their premises. It was a strange comradery that developed over heated words and threats of violence directed towards the Chantry interrogators. The templars and mages despised their new intruders who treated them all with undeserved suspicion, and soon the common enemy was deemed to be the Chantry. Indeed every single person in the keep was absolutely irate at the hostile involvement of the Chantry. Everyone except for one witch of the wilds, who was instead exceptionally pleased at the situation that had unfolded.

Morrigan grinned as she saw Kieran appear at the stone balcony above. The boy waved to her in delight before disappearing once more as he continued his game of hide and seek with several other children.

Casting her eyes back to the courtyard Morrigan began to hum a jovial tune. Although she had her suspicions as to who was responsible for Leliana’s disappearance, she did not know the details and did not care to. All Morrigan knew for certain was that Leliana was out of her life once and for all, and that meant Morrigan had one less enemy to worry about. The witch had made an unfortunate decision in agreeing to help Leliana conceive a child with Jowan. The act itself was of little consequence, but Morrigan had failed to see that her part played in that conception would come back to haunt her in later days. Leliana had used Morrigan to get what she had wanted and then realised that Morrigan now knew too much about a secret she had intended to keep.

Morrigan was no fool.

She knew that she and Kieran would never have been safe at that moment. Morrigan knew that the sooner she revealed Leliana’s secret to Cullen and Jowan, the sooner they would deal with the dangerous and unpredictable Divine. All the witch of the wilds need do was sit back and wait for the inevitable storm to pass.

A titter of a laugh escaped from her cruel smile, knowing that her plan had worked out perfectly. 

‘Ahhhh Leliana, I knew it was only a matter of time before you came to tie up any loose ends.’ whispered Morrigan to herself ‘I was ready for you, my friend, don’t think that I wasn’t. It seems your trickery has finally caught up with you. ‘Tis a pity, but such is life. You should have learned to better outplay people. The fault lies with you. That is why I am here and you are….not.’

Unable to wipe the smile off her face, Morrigan reached over for her cup of tea and sunk back into her chair comfortably. She had initially thought her stay at Skyhold would only be of short duration, but now she believed it would be a perfect home to raise her son into the man he was destined to become. 

****

With pen and paper at hand, Michel de Chevin and Commander Rylen were busy in the barracks of Skyhold that afternoon working their way through a new arrival of supplies from Antiva. Inventories were tedious affairs but unfortunately necessary, and the men had learned from their previous Commander that order and proper record keeping was essential to the smooth running of a group of soldiers.

Craaaaaaaaack!!!!!!

Splinters flew as the crate was pried open. With iron rod in hand, Michel de Chevin eased the weathered lid off and looked into the box in anticipation.

‘Oh.’ observed the Orlesian flatly, his voice filled with disappointment.

Commander Rylen cast an eye into the crate and groaned upon seeing the contents.

‘Perfect. More bloody shields.’

Concealing a smile, Michel began to pull out the heavy steel instruments from the container. The metal clanged loudly onto the stone as he counted his way through the items, one by one.

‘We’ve got ten pavisades,’ informed Michel ‘three bucklers and two wooden shields. Oh, and several yards of stained beige fabric. How strange?’. Noticing his deflated companion, the chevalier threw an encouraging nod. ‘Better to have more shields than less? That can only be a good thing?’

The Knight Commander scoffed, clearly unconvinced.

‘I wrote to the Templar Order in Antiva begging like a damn pauper for supplies and they send me fabric and pavisades.’ growled Rylen ‘Pavisades! Look around Michel, do you see any water up here? Let alone a ship? What in the Maker’s name am I supposed to do with naval warfare shields?!’

The chevalier knocked the steel with his knuckle, examining the large shields with interest. ‘It’s good metal Rylen.’ Michel observed ‘We could melt it down? Make some proper armour instead of the rusty trappings your men and women sport at the moment. And the fabric can be easily dyed blue. A little stain here and there won't be noticed. You can make more templar shirts and trousers. We definitely have need for it.’

Rylen threw a mischievous grin at the man. ‘We? WE??!! Come on Michel - just join the bloody Templar Order and be done with it! You know you’d make me the happiest man in Thedas.’

‘And I, in turn, the unhappiest.’ retorted Michel with a grin.

Rylen chuckled. ‘Well it wouldn’t be the Templar Order without a great deal of misery! Ah well, if I can’t recruit you at least let me pay you for the work you’ve been doing here since you’ve returned? No one else wanted to touch these ruddy crates let alone perform an inventory. I owe you something for that at the very least?’

The chevalier elegantly waved his hand, dismissing the offer in his usual polite manner. ‘No payment is required.’ he reassured. With an amused laugh, Michel grabbed the inventory from Rylen and recorded the shields in neat cursive. ‘Besides,’ observed Michel playfully ‘I suspect the moment any gold touches my palm a silent contract will be sealed for my eternal servitude in the Templar Order.’

‘Pffft, gold?!’ chuckled Rylen ‘Copper, Michel. We pay in coppers round here. And yes, eternal servitude is what I had in mind.’

Michel smiled at the comment. ‘Were circumstances different and I not sworn to another Order you know I would be more than happy to stay and help. Duty however dictates elsewhere. Emperor Gaspard would have a great deal to say about it if I were to delay my return to Orlais for any much longer.’

Dragging his feet, Rylen proceeded to the next unopened crate. Shoving an iron bar under the lid, he pushed his weight into prying it off.

‘That’s right,’ the templar muttered ‘I keep on forgetting you’re a glorified chevalier back home. After your stint at Denerim Palace for the last year I’m surprised you’re not serving the King of Ferelden these days?’

Silence fell upon the room but Michel was too quick to let his lack of words transform into an awkward moment. The Orlesian shrugged, turning to his companion with a jovial smile.

‘To put it simply – Ferelden is no Orlais.’ confessed Michel ‘It was an honour to serve King Alistair at Denerim Castle but when all's said and done it pales in comparison to my duties at the Winter Palace back home. I'm a chevalier Rylen. My place is by the Emporer’s side.’

‘Ferelden too uncivilised for you these days?’ teased Rylen.

The chevalier grinned. ‘I believe the proper word to describe our southern neighbours is rustic.’

Rylen laughed at the comment. ‘Described like a true Orlesian. No matter, I was born in Starkhaven. Everything seems a little rustic when you leave that pompous city.’

Appearing pensive, Michel nodded. ‘Starkhaven is the gem of the Free Marches. The city of marble and gold. It must be a hard place to leave I imagine?’

‘Bah!’ dismissed Rylen, rubbing his stubble as he fondly reminisced. ‘Sod the architecture, but I’d be lying if I said the place didn’t hold my affections. Can’t tell you how many times I dream of a traditional Starkhaven fish and egg pie. Fresh bass, boiled eggs, dried raisins and cherries, spices and thickened cream, topped with a light crust. Mmmmmm, what I wouldn’t do to have one of those again.’ 

The chevalier shrugged, appearing indifferent to a cuisine he had never tried. ‘Duty aside, my estates also call for my return. My manors remain dark with dust sheets covering the furniture. There is no music filling the rooms and the kitchen fires are not ablaze. My estates were never intended for that. That is…not how I wanted it to be.’

Michel turned his crestfallen face away from his companion, hiding the disappointment he deeply felt. Duty and estates mattered little and he secretly knew it. His chevalic heart only desired his one true love that stirred his soul, but Michel knew now that even she had slipped away from him. Ophelia was now married to the King of Ferelden and most likely still harbouring a secret affection for Cullen. And once again, Michel was left alone and feeling rather lost in the world. 

Rylen grinned. ‘Bloody Corypheus getting in the way of you enjoying your fancy estates?’

‘Naturally.’ mused Michel. He chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Rylen I realise we’ve had a greater cause to fight for, a far greater one than me enjoying the spoils of Orlesian country living. However things have changed. Corypheus is now dead and order has been restored. Now it’s time for me to return to the life that I had once upon a time. Perhaps I have a chance to create a better one?’

‘Four stone walls, stale bannocks and a chest full of moth eaten socks. That’s all you’ll be getting around here.’ muttered Rylen ‘Mind you, I don’t think any one of my templars actually cares. We’re all just bloody relieved just to be back on Ferelden soil once more.’

‘Well it’s not always the surroundings that make a place, but more so the people.’ pointed out Michel diplomatically. His eyes ran across the room sadly. ‘Some of the happiest moments in my life were spent here at Skyhold, despite the chilling days and watery soup.’

Michel frowned, silently chastising himself for romanticizing the truth. Some of the worst moments in his life were also experienced here.

Retrieving an iron rod from the ground, the chevalier helped the Commander pry open the lid of the crate. Splinters flew as the wood shattered and Rylen swore as large piece of wood planted deep into his finger.

‘I take it back, this placed is cursed.’ grumbled the Commander ‘You should get out of here while you can.’

‘Well I was planning to leave soon but now that seems unlikely.’ confessed Michel. ‘The Chantry has made any travel from here next to impossible. The gates may be open but from all I’ve heard the keep is still in lock down.’

‘Maker of course it is, how could any of us forget?’ muttered Rylen, sucking the droplets of blood off his finger. ‘What a bloody mess eh? Those zealots have interrogated every one of my templars. Even had the nerve to sit me down for an hour or so and bark questions about every damn thing imaginable.’. The Commander rolled his eyes in disgust. ‘Treating us all like we’re dirty plebs that stole the Divine and her damn son. Not like we have anything better to do, eh?’

Michel nodded, pretending to be more interested in the contents of the crate. ‘Well I suppose it’s only natural that they would interrogate us after Leliana and Valahorn vanished as they did. I hope they did not fall into misfortune.?It is a troubling situation.’

‘Troubling? Embarrassing is more like it.’ dismissed Rylen ‘This whole thing is staged for publicity or politics or some other nonsense. I’d put bets on it that’s how certain I am. You know what one of my recruits told me yesterday? Leliana left the keep on the morning in question and told the guards not to escort her. Wouldn’t tell them where she was going either. What does that tell you?’

‘Are you suggesting she was planning on disappearing all along?’ frowned Michel ‘That she escaped with her son and was not kidnapped?’

‘Of course she ran away!’ chortled Rylen ‘She left that morning and never intended to return. It’s obvious to everyone except the block headed Chantry. The only person I feel bad for in this situation is Cullen. He’s going to receive word sooner or later and discover that crazed woman has ran off with his son!’

The Orlesian turned to look in the crate, feeling extremely relieved that Rylen believed Leliana had run away. The more people that suspected Leliana left on her own accord, the less likely anyone would come to learn of the actual truth. 

‘So…you don’t believe Valahorn was taken?’ asked Michel in feigned surprise ‘Why wouldn’t Leliana have taken Valahorn with her when she left Skyhold?’

Rylen tapped his nose. ‘To avoid suspicion, you see? She leaves secretly and gets someone to bring her son to her later on.’

‘The nursemaid was adamant that she left the child in guarded quarters.’ argued MIchel ‘Yet when the guards came to find the child he was not in the room.’

Rylen grinned. ‘Was that before or after the nursemaid tried to assault you in the main hall?’

A faint tinge of pink flushed his cheeks as Michel turned his back on his companion once more.

Rylen laughed heartily, taking delight in the Orlesian’s apparent embarrassment.

‘My behaviour at the hall that particular day was a combination of far too much wine and unfair misinterpretation from onlookers who should have known better.’ explained Michel defensively ‘I chose the wrong templar to have lunch with. At the time of our innocent chat, or so I thought, I was not aware your Antivan templar had such a delicate spot for me, or such a jealous lover. A lively conversation over one too many wines has been blown out of proportion. Before I knew what was happening Lisbeth was screaming at me and Fazio looked like he had seen a ghost.’

Rylen shrugged. ‘Well I wasn’t there so I can only go by what I was told and Maker help you Michel if that’s the truth! Ha ha ha!’

The Commander’s face was beaming until he noticed how disheartened his companion remained. Rylen threw an apologetic half smile to the chevalier.

‘Don’t take it to heart Michel, these people like a good scandal. Fact or fiction, it doesn’t really matter. We’ve all been in the ranks before. You remember what it was like? All those long hours. A man has to distract himself with something, and what’s better than a lively rumour at someone else’s expense?’

Lifting out several wooden weapons from the newly opened crate, Michel counted them with a furrowed brow.

‘Thirty mock swords and three rather badly damaged mercenary helmets.’

Rylen cursed under his breath, shaking his head in disapproval as he recorded the items onto the paper before him.

‘Take it from me,’ continued Rylen ‘I’ve heard a thing or two about Leliana from Cullen over the years. Don’t be fooled by the whole pious act she’s got going. Underneath it all she’s brutal. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen her put Cullen in the foulest of tempers. She’s a bloody loose cannon. Probably got fed up with something the Chantry did or didn’t do and decided to leave for a while. Or maybe it’s all aimed at Cullen, you know? Because he decided to finally leave this place. He told me she was livid about his decision to step down from serving as the Right Hand. Daft wench probably thought taking his son from him like this will force him to come back. She’ll show up in a week or two just to make a point and the Chantry will feel embarrassed about the whole affair and try and cover up the whole thing with some big ceremony at the Grand Cathedral.’

Michel shrugged. ‘Until then I suppose all we can wait and-’

Tap, tap, tap.

The men were distracted by a sharp knocking on the open door to the barracks. A serving girl stood before them, pulling the small scroll from the front pocket of her pinafore.

‘Ser Michel, post just came. You’ve a royal message from Ferelden.’ she informed, holding out the message nervously. 

‘Royal letters from the King eh?’ jested Rylen ‘You do have friends in high places.’

Casting a concerned look to Rylen, Michel swiftly approached to retrieve the message. He murmured a few words of thanks to the girl before retreating quickly to read it.

Silence fell upon the room as the Orlesian scoured the words, his blue eyes finally looking up fearfully to Rylen.

‘Michel?’ remarked a surprised Rylen ‘What ever is the matter man?’

The Commander approached the stunned Orlesian, looking down at the note in Michel’s stiff hand.

‘What is it?’ asked Rylen again ‘Has something happened?’

Michel's blue eyes blinked back to life suddenly. Pushing the scroll into the palm of his friend, Michel passed Rylen and rushed to the door.

‘Forgive me Rylen I cannot waste a moment.’ called out Michel ‘I must go to Redcliffe Castle immediately.’

‘Michel wait!’ yelled out Rylen ‘Is everything okay? Tell me what has happened.’

The Commander’s calls fell onto deaf ears for Michel had already rushed out of the room, leaving Rylen alone in his confusion. Looking down to his hand, Rylen unrolled the small scroll curiously.

_Michel de Chevin,_

_You are requested at Redcliffe Castle at once. Queen Ophelia has fallen gravely ill and is dying. Do not delay in this request, I urge you to travel immediately. Your ban from entering Ferelden has been lifted and you may travel without fear of reprisal._

_I urge you to make haste._

_His Royal Majesty_

_King Alistair Theirin_

‘Maker have mercy.’ muttered Rylen. His eyes ran over the message several times over, and his brow creased in concern as he focused on one particular line.

_Your ban from entering Ferelden has been lifted and you may travel without fear of reprisal._

‘By the blazes man, what trouble have you gotten yourself into?’ he murmured to himself.

With a frown Rylen placed the note carefully on his desk and returned to the task of opening the supply crates.

****

The royal falcon messenger of the west glided along the strong ocean breeze that aided its flight swiftly into Jader that afternoon. Into the stable loft of The Copper Coin Inn the bird landed lightly, screeching loudly to notify the stable hand that a message had arrived.

A lanky young man with hay in his hair was sweeping the floors in the stables below when the falcon called for attention. Although far and few between, the stable hand had been trained to deal with messenger birds. It was one of his least favourite duties and he much preferred shoveling dung than being pecked by unfriendly birds.

The falcon screeched angrily once more and the man threw down his broom irritably.

‘Aye, aye, coming you filthy feathered chicken.’ he grumbled.

After several scratches and irritated pecks from the falcon, the young man finally retrieved the message and breathed a sigh of relief as the bird flapped its wings out of the stable once more.

Squinting at the note, he examined the royal seal with curiosity. Being unable to read or write, the man was none the wiser as to who or what the message was about. It mattered little for he was only interested in wasting time from his duties so he happily set off for the inn, eager to enjoy a moment away from manure, birds and hay.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door to the tavern, the young man was greeted by a sharp pair of eyes behind the front desk. It was Rosie, the inn keeper of The Copper Coin.

‘Get out and tend to the horses.’ ordered the woman ‘You ain’t getting any free ale so don’t even try askin’’. Flicking back her red curls sharply, she snapped her fingers several times at the young man. ‘And close that damn door, you’re letting in the cold air!’

The young man threw her a sheepish grin, holding up the letter. ‘Message came. Not sure for who but it sure looks fancy.’ 

Rosie grabbed the note, eye brow raising as she spotted the royal seal. ‘Addressed to Cullen Rutherford.’ she read, examining the seal with interest. ‘I suppose he’s staying at the inn?’

Reaching for the heavy book lying flat against the bench before her, she spun it around and began running her finger down a list of names that recorded all the occupants staying at The Copper Coin. Her fingernail stopped half way down the page and she tapped it promptly.

‘Aye, Cullen Rutherford. Room 5. Up the stairs to the right. Deliver it to him and then get back to work.’

The stable hand grinned as he passed, always happy to exchange a few words with the pretty innkeeper. He slowly ascended the steps, breathing in the sweet aroma of fresh linseed oil from the polished wooden floors and lingered to run his hand across the smooth banisters. Finally, he arrived at the room and knocked three times, calling out that a message had arrived.

The door clicked as the lock from the other side was turned, and tall man with a firm jaw and sandy coloured hair appeared. His stern amber eyes looked down at the stable-hand.

‘Yes?’

‘Cullen Rutherford, sir?’ asked the stable hand uncertainly ‘A message just arrived by bird. Looked like a right and proper one. A hawk or kestrel I’m guessin’ it was. Don’t usually get those, just pigeons.’

The man at the door nodded, accepting the letter from the stable-hand with a promptness that suggested he had been the recipient of many many letters in his lifetime. His amber eyes ran across the words before looking quickly to the young man once more.

The stable hand was surprised, noticing the expression on the man’s face.

It was an expression of fear.

‘When did this arrive?’ asked the man quietly, albeit urgently.

The stable hand gulped. ‘Just now sir.’

‘Prepare my horse ready immediately, and make sure it’s been watered and fed.’ ordered the man ‘I ride out to Ferelden as soon as possible.’.

‘Aye sir.’ nodded the young man. He hesitated as his curiosity got the better of him. ‘Hope it’s not bad news sir?’

Without another word the door slammed in the face of the stable hand, leaving him alone in the hall once more. With a frown he descended the stairs, wondering what had been written in the mysterious note and cursing himself for not getting Rosie to read it before he had handed it over.


	115. At The Hands Of A Mage

Dabbing a cold cloth on his sleeping friend’s forehead, Jowan tended to Ophelia as he waited for Alistair to return. The mage couldn’t shake the irony of finding himself in the Redcliffe Castle chambers of Arl Eamon once more, tending to a sick noble who would not wake. A decade had passed and yet he felt like in that moment nothing had changed. Jowan knew however that a great deal about him had. The mage he had been back then was not the mage he was now.

‘Ophelia, I know what I’m about to do isn’t your cup of tea,’ acknowledged Jowan quietly. He looked sadly at the unconscious queen. ‘I realise that and I know you’d probably try to talk me out of it. But then you know I always must have the last word, and I would tell you that sometimes we have to take the lower road to get to our destination. So this is what we must do and let us leave it at that.’

In the middle of the chambers Jowan had cleared a large space and already had poured a large circle of salt ready for the ritual. Beside the circle was a table piled with numerous glass vials of dried plants, a dagger and several sheets of parchment containing recipes and enchantments. The mage had been preparing the room all morning and now he was ready to perform the summoning.

Jowan was ready for anything except the guilt infused reality of what he was about to do.

_Making a deal with a demon._

Silently cursing himself for feeling guilty, he shook his head sadly. Shouldn’t saving a friend’s life outweigh such feelings of guilt? Demons would continue to kill innocents with or without his aid, so why not gain a favour if it was possible? He had certainly made enough deals with demons in his lifetime, so why now was he feeling so terrible for doing so?

‘I’m sorry Ophelia.’ continued Jowan quietly ‘I honestly don’t know what has happened to you here but I’m smart enough to know when I’m on the losing side of the battle. If I don’t do this deal…well, that is why I am doing this.’.

He sighed, looking over at the sleeping woman.

‘You have two choices before you.’ continued Jowan, now a little more determinedly ‘You can die or you can survive. That is it. There are no other options.’. The mage clutched the wet cloth tightly in his hand, as if tormented by an inner struggle of his own. ‘As a maleficar it is not for me to judge the ways of the darker arts. It is what it is. And let me tell you this; we are not pawns, simply existing to be moved about at the careless whim of fate. We have a right to control our own destiny. Blood magic places the reins back in our hands that would otherwise be withheld. You know better than anyone that the world is full of injustice and suffering whether you are a good person or a bad person. That is the truth of it. The religious diatribe of do good and good will come unto you is a nauseating lie weaved by the Chantry to control the masses. Sheep to the slaughter. There is no reason for any of this. None whatsoever. So, if an opportunity comes to change your ill luck then you take it. That is why I am doing this. To save your life.’

Jowan frowned, as if his companion’s silence confirmed her disapproval of his decision.

‘You never appreciated blood magic,’ argued Jowan defensively ‘I’m well aware of that. But if you had only been a little more receptive to it you then would have seen that it can be used for good. Okay, perhaps not this particular summoning I’m about to do, I know this deal brings with it the potential of some misfortune to others. But blood magic is not all terrible. Don’t think of magic as good and evil, I could wield horrific outcomes with the spells permitted at the Circle Tower. It is at the hands of a mage that morality comes into question, not the practice.’

Frowning, Jowan continued to dab at Ophelia’s forehead with the cloth. ‘Like I said, perhaps this particular summoning does not aid in my argument. Exceptions Ophelia, there are always exceptions to the rules. That is what we are doing here.’

A soft knock rapped at the door and Alistair crept into the stillness of the room, stopping in his tracks as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

‘It’s just me.’ reassured Alistair, turning quickly to the lock the door behind him. ‘Don’t worry, I’m alone.’

Jowan placed the cloth gently back into the bowl of water, making his way back to his preparation table. ‘Did you have any trouble clearing the upper floors?’ he asked quietly ‘No one can be up here Alistair, it is too risky.’

Alistair nodded. ‘I dismissed everyone in the castle for a mandatory celebration in the courtyard with my soldiers that have just returned. It’s funny how free mead is certain to keep people away from doing their job. Everyone bolted for the door, even the knights. There’s no one up here, I asked for privacy for a few hours.’

‘Then it is time to begin.’ informed Jowan swiftly. Rubbing his hands together, the mage made his way to the edge of the circle. ‘I’m going to summon the demon within this circle here, and Alistair you must remain at the side of the room. Do not for any reason move into the circle. If you do you may end up wishing you didn’t. Are you still certain you want to go through with this? There’s still time to change your mind?’

Alistair’s eyes glistened with a lingering sorrow yet his face was full of determination.

‘Jowan, I must do this. As each second passes I grow more and more determined to do this.’. Turning to where his sleeping queen lay still, Alistair fell to one knee. Gently he reached for her hand, drawing a deep breath as he felt her burning skin against the coolness of his own. ‘Andraste guide your hand, Jowan. I fear she has no other chance of coming back to us. Let us throw caution to the wind and do this now.’

Alistair placed a soft kiss on the queen’s forehead before whispering unheard words into her ear.

Jowan felt a heaviness in his heart and quickly averted his eyes from the pair, silently cursing his weakness of succumbing to his emotions. In prior days he would never have felt such things, but now everything was different. He cared for people and felt their bitter sorrow in turn. He was more empathic than ever before and now he secretly wished he could go back to feeling nothing. 

Waving his hand effortlessly, Jowan muttered quietly to himself as he approached the altar. Alistair gasped behind Jowan as the many lifeless candles spread across the room spring suddenly to life in dancing flames. The mage swiftly rolled back his sleeves, hesitating as he reached for the dagger on the table beside him. He turned his dark eyes to his companion, serious and sombre.

‘Alistair I’d advise you to turn away if you don’t like the sight of blood.’ warned Jowan. ‘This magic requires it and I’ve no vials with me so I guess mine is as good as any.’

Alistair grimaced as he realised what Jowan was implying. As unpleasant as it was the king was not deterred.

‘I’m a warrior Jowan,’ informed Alistair sternly ‘I’ve seen my fair share of blood spilt throughout the years.’

Jowan threw a small smile at the king. ‘I meant no offence. There was a soldier back in Skyhold, this giant of a man with arms and legs the size of tree trunks. I’m certain he could have crushed a person by just looking at them. Yet every time he came to me to be treated for a flesh wound he just crumbled at the sight of his blood when I removed the bandage. Started blubbering about feeling light headed and so forth before collapsing on one of my mages.’

‘Would it help if you used my blood?’ Alistair asked ‘If you need it, I am here to aid. Anything you need Jowan, I am here.’

The mage turned to the king in surprise. Of all the times he had performed blood magic no one had ever willingly offered their own. It was very polite.

‘That is not necessary.’ replied Jowan, placing the blade on his thin forearm. ‘Better leave it to me, I’ve a knack of choosing the right place to cut that won’t end up draining me of my entire supply. You know I saw a mage make that unfortunate mistake once? That kind of thing always leaves a lasting impression. One can never be too careful in such matters.’

With a swift nick to his skin, a red trickle began to spill from Jowan’s arm. He coated his hands in it until they were crimson. Jowan’s slender finger then drew to a point, and the salt ring on the ground began to glow blue. The mage’s dark eyes drew hard on the circle, his concentration unbreakable as he began to chant the summoning; Duirth di monantan ro-argth. Duirth di monantan ro-argth. Duirth di monantan ro-argth. DUIRTH DI MONANTAN RO-ARGTH!!!!

The room rumbled like thunder, a low and foreboding growl transforming the quietude into a harrowing chamber of despair.

Alistair stood beside the bed with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, feet planted firm and eyes drawn fast ahead. If there was fear in his heart he did not show it as he stood there ready to face whatever would come their way.

The flames from the fireplace grew dim as a burning blue flame intertwined with crimson plumes of smoke appeared in the middle of the circle, weaving over and over, a symbol of eternity scorching the air.

‘I seek a demon to aid Ophelia Theirin.’ called out Jowan 'Who will answer my call for aid?'

Before the mage had barely finished his question, the smoke exploded into the figure of a slender man. The demon had long black hair pulled back into a distinguished ponytail, and he was dressed in the fine trimmings of a nobleman. Black boots, black pants and a black tailcoat, all trimmed with gold cuffs and buttons. The man appeared no more a demon than the other two men in the room, and as he stood there before them there was not a trace of malice in his appearance apart from his glowing red eyes.

The demon looked calmly from Jowan to Alistair, and then back to Jowan once more, finally bowing politely to the mage.

‘Noctis Filius.’ observed the demon humbly ‘We have been expecting you.’

‘Expecting me, were you?’ replied Jowan cynically ‘My name is Jowan and I've not been expecting you, so why would you be expecting me?’

The demon appeared pensive, considering the question with a great deal of thought. ‘With all respect, Noctis Filius, we simply knew you would come to us.’ it answered ‘Perhaps destiny is not written as words in a book, but as echo of days to come that are loud and clear to we the faithful.’

Sighing heavily, Jowan rested his arms against the table. ‘You speak in riddles, like so many of your kind. I tire of it already. Speak plain for I am no more impressed by your vagueness than you are impressed by my directness. Tell me now - why did you expect me to contact you?’

The demon smiled, bowing respectfully once more. ‘As you wish. My Master has kept you safe and protected you but now it is time for you to rise up. It is time for the black raven to spread his wings and sharpen his talons. Perhaps you cannot open your prey yet but you can call to us and we will come. We will come to you, Noctis Filius, and serve you until the day that you can rip open the prey yourself. ’

Jowan eyed the demon with displeasure. ‘More riddles. Tell me this - why do you keep on referring to me as Noctis Filius? If I’m not mistaken in your language it means the dark son, yes?’

‘Son of the night.’ corrected the demon politely ‘That is what our Master has always referred to you as. He is the night and you have always been as a son to him.’

‘What is talking about?’ asked Alistair apprehensively. The king looked to Jowan with a frown, half doubting the mage and his moral compass now that the demon was making such claims. 

Jowan raised his hand to Alistair, silently warning him to remain quiet.

‘A fine question. Who is this master you speak of?’ asked Jowan ‘For someone who considers me a son I fear I am a poor relation, and undeserving of the title considering I have no idea of whom you speak?’

The demon bowed lower this time, respectfully acknowledging the mage before him yet again. ‘Your role has not gone unnoticed. After all, you are the one who has played such a great part in our Master’s tale. We honour you.’

Waving his hand impatiently, Jowan was growing more and more distrustful of the demon. ‘Enough! I know a trickster when I see one. Whatever little game you plan to play here know that I am not interested in participating. Or listening. I seek aid in saving Ophelia Theirin’s life. That is all. Will you aid me or not?’

The demon revealed a mischievous smile, as if reveling in the unpleasant news. ‘Is she sick? May I guess why? Perhaps she fell ill quite suddenly and there was no reason for it? A slight headache that turned into an illness that turned into a burning fire that consumed her body? If I had to guess?’

The creature continued to smile, and it grew wider as it noticed Jowan and Alistair’s expressions of anger.

‘Are you saying that you did this?’ hissed Jowan. His eyes drew dangerously onto the demon. ‘You did this so I would contact you for aid? Is that what you were implying before?’

‘Not me, Noctis Filius.’ answered the demon ‘I was not the one who cursed her. But yes, one of our own did this to the woman that lies over there.’. The demon threw a casual eye at Ophelia sleeping on the bed. ‘She’s nearly dead Noctis Filius, why do you bother with her? She’s ruined the will of so many of my own. My Master dislikes her, but Master is not like the Elder One. He never obsessed over her in such a sad way. She is nothing to him. She is nothing.’

‘You fail to answer the question.’ interjected Alistair ‘Why did you do this to Ophelia?! What were you hoping to achieve?’

The demon turned to examin the king with intrigue, running an eye up and down the man. ‘It’s nothing personal, despite our displeasure with your wife.'

‘Then why did you do this to Ophelia?’ asked Jowan, a chill growing in his voice. ‘Do not test me dark one, there’s a limit to my patience.’

‘As great as you are, Noctis Filius, we knew your weakness for this one would drive you to us once more, asking to make a deal.’ answered the demon ‘When your king realised he was incapable of helping his queen we knew it would only be a matter of time before word was sent out and that you would come to help. Fortune favours the bold, and you have come to us just as we hoped.’. Tapping it’s boots on the floor, the demon looked to the ring of salt. ‘Your little blue circle prevents me from leaving I suppose?’

‘And let me guess, you want your freedom?’ asked Jowan dryly ‘You know what it will cost you. Cure Ophelia and perhaps my foot will disturb the salt border?’

The demon shook his head. ‘I do not desire freedom. There is no demon who will ask for their freedom now, nor any other deal. Not now that Master has something that only you can give. Every demon has only one desire, and that is to serve our Master. We have all sworn not to make a deal for our freedom until he gets what he wants.’

Jowan folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’re telling me that I have something that your Master wants?’. The mage laughed, shaking his head. ‘I am no King of Ferelden, dark one. All you see is what I possess. Unless your master is after my moth-eaten robes, I have nothing to give.’

‘Such a good liar, Noctis Filius.’ observed the demon proudly ‘Did Charles Quillor teach you how to do that? Or was it Uldred all those years ago? Or maybe it is a honed skill from pretending to be Athalwolf Guildersleeve for all that time? ’

The mage’s dark eyes shot up and the demon smiled wider.

‘Who do you think has been watching out for you since the very beginning?’ asked the demon. ‘Master has been watching you since the day you were born. He is your dark guardian. He is your saviour.’

‘Lies.’ Jowan answered flatly. ‘Quite honestly I’d spare yourself the trouble of trying to lure me into your deception. I'll never believe a word that comes from your pathetic mouth.’

The demon man shook his head. ‘I speak the truth, Noctis Filius. You owe our master a great deal of thanks for the intervention he has made in your life. He saved you many times. As an infant your mother tried to smother you in your cot. It was Master that knocked over the candle on her bedside table and distracted her from the deed, giving him time to fill her mind with terrible guilt before she could finish the job. Your father came home drunk many nights when you grew up, and each time he did it was Master that steered him away from laying his fists into you. He wanted to more than anything but master spared you that inevitable death. It was Master that planted fear in your parents’ minds to leave you at the Chantry instead of selling you to underground market in Antiva. There was money to be had, but they despaired at being caught when they spotted Ferelden guards on the highway the night you were to be sold. Out of fear they abandoned you instead. Because of Master. Abandoned on the steps of a chantry it was Master who kept away the wolves that night so you were safe until they found you wandering amongst the gravestones that cold morning. He ensured you were taken in and kept safe until you were sent to the Ferelden Tower.’

Snorting at the comment, Jowan shook his head. ‘A fine tale and one I could hardly prove true or false considering I was an infant and cannot remember the finer details. So tell me, what wonderful life did your master set out for me from an age that I can remember?’

‘Your time at the Chantry was not intended for enjoyment, Noctis Filius, that much I know.’ acknowledged the demon solemnly ‘You were hardened by the Sisters there, and that was a cruel lesson you needed to learn. Master makes no apologies for that. You were starved and battered and made to repent for years on end. It made you hate them for good reason. The Maker’s Fallen? That is what they called you, wasn’t it?’

Jowan’s black eyes blinked darkly at the demon. ‘It appears then that you do know.' he whispered.

The demon nodded. ‘Master knew you would realise there was no Maker after spending years with the faithful. It was something you needed to learn in order to shape your decisions in the years ahead. When you arrived at the Circle tower you were a shadow of what you would become. The light in you had to be dampened in order for a blaze to erupt at the right time. It was Master who encouraged the demons to teach Uldred ancient magic and it was Master who encouraged Uldred to teach that magic to you. Remember how he sought you out and encouraged you into blood magic when no other mentor cared for you at all? Spectacularly unspectacular. The is what they used to call you. But not Uldred. No, he praised you for your quick learning and willingness to excel.’

‘Yes.’ observed Jowan quietly, casting an uneasy eye to Alistair who was listening on with a frown.

‘At last Noctis Filius, you felt a spark of hope!’ continued the demon, clenching his fist enthusiastically. ‘You finally found a sense of self. Then Master sent you Lily, he knew that you would need someone to help you escape before you were made Tranquil. Without her you would have languished in that tower until you died at the hands of the templars.’

‘Do not speak of Lily. Her memory is not yours to taint, foul spawn.’ warned Jowan. ‘Uldred came to me and many others to teach blood magic. But that is not to say this Master of yours had any part to play in it, if he even exists? You twist the facts to shape your own fabrications, that is all you are doing. I see that.’

The demon snorted at the observation. ‘Uldred lay the ground work for your abilities. Master knew you would need power in order to escape the Circle Tower, and the blood magic you cast enabled you to do just that. It was My Master who silently willed Sierra and your king friend here to go to Redcliffe Castle first before addressing the elves and dwarves. They came and released you from Redcliffe Prison before you could be executed.’

Jowan turned to Alistair, as if seeking some response to the accusation that had been claimed by their less than savoury companion. ‘I’m certain Alistair was not willed by your master during the Blight, but let us ask him just in case?’

‘Sierra and I travelled to Redcliffe first because it was the most sensible option.’ informed Alistair flatly, eyeing the demon with disgust. ‘My uncle was here at this castle so naturally we were going to seek him out first for help. Your Master certainly didn’t convince us of anything when we were on the road.’

The demon shook his head at the king. ‘If you recall, Sierra wanted to go to the Brecilian Forest first? Don’t you remember? In Lothering you told her it was her decision to make, and she decided going to the elves first for it was the closest destination to travel. You were afraid to speak up but felt a surge of courage and insisted Redcliffe would be a better place to go first. Do you remember how insistent you were?’

Alistair frowned, appearing to remember the day quite well. ‘That doesn’t mean anything. My actions on that day were not accredited to anyone except myself.’

The demon chuckled, looking back to Jowan. ‘Because of your friends you were able to escape from Redcliffe Castle. Do you remember how lost you were, knowing you had to run but not knowing where to run to? Running north to the Waking Sea, you stowed away on a cargo ferry and traveled upstream until you were discovered by one of the crew. Master made sure you were discovered on that boat, all tucked up in the crates. They flung you from the ferry and you landed in the water, drifting to the shores of the Planasene Forest in the Free Marches. Alone you stumbled in wilderness, far from civilisation. You were completely isolated and who should you stumble across?’

Jowan’s face grew serious. ‘Charles Quillor.’ he replied quietly.

‘Charles Quillor.’ echoed the demon.

Alistair appeared startled at the name. ‘Hold up, I know that name?’ he exclaimed ‘He was the one who created a cure for the taint of the Grey Wardens. He sent me a potion from Vyrantium. I was able to remove it from my blood and no longer answer the call that is the curse of every Grey Warden.’

‘He is a very smart man.’ acknowledged the demon.

‘So, you claim your Master sent Charles to me?’ continued Jowan ‘Why? Why was I to stumble across him? For what reason?’

The demon chuckled at the question. ‘You happened upon the greatest maleficar in Thedas and you ask for a reason?’ mused the demon ‘Master knew you needed training. Proper training. You needed to be taught by the best. And you were taught only by the best, Noctis Filius. Charles even aided you in your personal quest. Remember as a child? One day you stumbled across a strange old looking book in the Ferelden Circle library. It was open at a page, marked with a red ribbon. And when you read it you never were able to forget the text.’

Jowan took a step back, his hands trembling at the revelation. ‘No one knew about that day. Not even Sierra or Lily. I told no one of how I actually learned of-‘

‘Your mouse hole tucked away in a labyrinth of shadows. The Nephilim Realm.’ acknowledged the demon ‘Master knew you would seek to find it. He knew that you would suspect it was real and go one day to search for it. And you did with the help of Charles. You went and came face to face with demons, who neither frightened nor repelled you. Master had already taught you so well. He sent you there and it was there that the ancient demon Sapientes resided.’

Jowan’s brows lifted in surprise. It was a name he told no other living soul.

The demon nodded. ‘Sapientes taught you the terrible power to control our kind. He taught you well, and you yielded your power over our kind effortlessly. And then there was the prophecy.’

‘Yes, I recall being harassed for far too many years by your kind because of Sapientes’ prophecy.’ observed Jowan crossly ‘When all is dark and you are surrounded, the searing pain will force you to rise from the ashes into a sea of red. He might have spared me the suspense and told me it meant my painful death in the Waking Sea at the hands of a woman who should have known better.’

The demon nodded sagely. ‘Master told you of that prophecy himself. He knew your destiny’

‘So you're saying Sapientes is your master?’ observed Jowan with a bitter chuckle ‘He trained me, yes. Made me strong. He told me there would come a time when I would be called and that I would know when it was the hour of accent. Was that it then? My death? Am I ascended now?’

‘No no no, Noctis Filius. It meant your rebirth.’ corrected the demon proudly ‘You arose from the sea as you are now. You arose more stronger than you could possibly imagine. You were gifted power that you have yet to unleash, but it is there.’

Alistair shifted uneasily behind Jowan and the mage turned to him with a concerned look of his own. ‘Alistair do not think for a moment that I know anything about this story this demon weaves. It is the first I am learning about this plan of Sapientes, if indeed any of this is even true?’

‘That’s what worries me.’ replied Alistair quietly ‘That and the fact that you are so well acquainted with his master.’

‘IWhat I say is true.’ chimed in the demon ‘And I have no reason to tell lies or weave mistruths.’

‘So your Master, Sapientes, resurrected me?’ frowned Jowan ‘For what purpose? Look - I’ve come here to make a deal for Ophelia’s life and all I’ve gotten from you so some far far-fetched drivelous story about Sapientes who apparently has taken a greater shining to me than I had originally thought.’

‘It’s about Valahorn.’ answered the demon. He nodded, noticing Jowan’s reaction at the mention of the child’s name. ‘Master needed the right mortal to sire his chosen one. It’s always been you that he intended for that role. Now that Valahorn has come into the world you are to raise the Chosen One with the skills you have learnt from the graciousness of the Master. That is the way it is to be. In time you will teach Valahorn all that you know.’

In horror Jowan gasped, unable to ignore the pounding in his chest as the terrifying reality sunk in. ‘Chosen one.’ he murmured, suddeny hearing Leliana’s voice echoing in his head.

Leliana had spoken about it, over and over again, until it almost drove Jowan insane. Valahorn was the Maker’s Chosen. Valahorn was the Maker’s will. Valahorn was the Chosen One.

The demon nodded. ‘Yes Noctis Filius, that is who Valahorn is. He can never escape his destiny, and neither can you.’

The mage clasped his head with his bony white hands, laughing in sickening disbelief. Unable to contain himself he fell into hysterics, maddening and uncontrollable. ‘This is a joke.’ Jowan cried out ‘A despicable joke and nothing more!’

Alistair appeared uneasy, taking a few steps closer to the mage. ‘Jowan? What is it?’

‘She was right.’ observed Jowan bitterly ‘That raving lunatic was right all along and none of us thought anything of it. Leliana’s visions, everything. It was all true. She was however wrong about the most important thing.’. His dark eyes turned to glare fiercely at the demon. ‘The Maker was never behind Leliana, whispering to her in visions. It was Sapientes all along. Wasn’t it?’

The demon nodded with a pleased smile. ‘Yes Noctis Filius. There is no Maker, only Sapientes.’

‘So where is the Maker then?’ demanded Alistair coldly ‘Who is this creature that you claim is your master? Who is he that you claim can mimic the Maker in Leliana’s eyes? Do not believe him Jowan, the Maker would never allow such a thing to happen. He would never allow any of this to have taken place. This is a demon and they all lie.’

‘To take the guise of another, be it mortal or immortal, is no simple feat but anything and everything is possible.’ answered the demon.

Jowan looked over to Alistair, his face crushed with defeat. ‘Deceiving someone whose faith was as strong as Leliana’s would have been the easy part. She wanted to be closer to the Maker. To receive any vision would have been considered a miracle not to be questioned. Sapientes played on her vulnerability and he played her well.’

Alistair scowled at the demon, his hand clutching his sword angrily. ‘I refuse to believe any demon this foul could mimic the Maker. The Maker would never allow such a thing.’

The demon sighed, throwing a disinterested look at the seething king. ‘Every time a mortal is told of the truth they dislike the answer. I assure you everything I have said is the truth. If you want to know what has become of the Maker I will tell you that also?’

Alistair took several steps closer to the circle despite Jowan raising his hand. ‘Then tell me.’ he demanded.

‘The throne of the Maker is empty and has been for as long as we’ve been permitted there.’ answered the demon ‘He left the Golden City and the light does not shine there anymore.’

Jowan held a hand to placate Alistair who appeared furious by the answer.

‘Do not take everything this demon says here as the truth.’ warned Jowan ‘They feed off negative emotions, be calm my friend.’

‘I never would believe anything that this vile thing says.’ scorned Alistair ‘The Maker would cast you out if you even dared go near the Golden City. It’s nothing but a lie.’

The demon shrugged. ‘Like I said, mortals dislike the truth upon hearing it.’

‘So what purpose does Sapientes pursue?’ pressed Jowan ‘Let me guess, your Master wants a demon army to rule over Thedas? Haven’t heard of that before.’

The demon grinned at the observation. ‘No Noctis. In the Master’s eyes we are not worthy for Thedas. He cares for us like all like his children. but he knows our weaknesses all too well. His desire to ascend from demon has always driven him, and he has found a way to do this. He wants his true son to rule Thedas, while he restores the Golden City. Valahorn will do this for him.’

‘Are you saying Valahorn is actually the child of your Master?’ scoffed Alistair ‘A demon fathering a human child? How did he manage that?’

‘You know how.’ muttered Jowan ‘Leliana was determined to have my child and now we now know who was filling her head with all that drivel.’

‘Yes but that makes Valahorn your son, not Sapientes.’ argued Alistair.

‘He made it happen, that is all you need to know. Valahorn’s spirit has been waiting to be born for a very long time. Centuries in fact. That is why Master aided you all so much.’ explained the demon ‘What you may have called lucky breaks in life, Master calls intervention. Master knew his time to ascend the throne would only come when Leliana and you, Noctis, conceived the Chosen One. Now Master can rule over The Golden City, while his mortal son rules over Thedas. You have played your part well'. The demon paused, crossing his arms seriously 'However it appears you have now taken something that was not yours to take.’

Rolling his eyes, Jowan shook his head guiltily. He appeared at a loss for words.

‘What is he talking about?’ whispered Alistair, noticing his companion’s quietness at the accusation. ‘Jowan? What is this about? What have you taken?’

Turning his angry eyes to the demon, Jowan’s eyes narrowed in fury. 

‘It’s of no consequence.’ replied Jowan icily.

‘It’s of great consequence.’ hissed the demon back.

Alistair looked from demon to mage, frustrated at their wilful silence. ‘Jowan what have you taken?!!’ he roared.

‘Leliana.’ answered Jowan darkly, casting a pair of angry eyes to Alistair. ‘I’ve taken Leliana.’

The demon nodded. ‘Yes, he has.’

‘What do you mean you've taken Leliana?’ asked Alistair, growing more frustrated. ‘Taken her where? Why would you have Leliana?’

‘That is a long story.’ replied Jowan ‘We can speak about it later. It doesn’t matter.’

The demon’s eyes flashed red, it’s once polite demeanor slipping away just a little. ‘It matters greatly, Noctis. You took the Master’s bride and locked her up in that cave of yours!’

‘His bride?’ echoed Alistair in surprise.

Shaking his head, Jowan cursed under his breath. ‘So Sapientes considers Leliana his bride? Unbelievable.’

‘She is the mother of his son and he has great love for her.’ informed the demon ‘But do not think he does not have love for you too. Master spared you from death, just as he spared Leliana. When you rose from the Waking Sea it was the Master who gave you back flesh to your burnt corpse and air back into your lungs. When you died in The Three Archer’s River saving this king’s son here, Master brought you back once more. Be grateful Noctis for you should be dead. Don’t be greedy now and keep Leliana from him.’

‘Jowan didn’t die in The Three Archer’s River.’ frowned Alistair, looking uncertainly to the mage ‘Why would he say that? Jowan?’

‘How should I know?! He’s right there, go ask him yourself!’ snapped Jowan irritably. Clutching his temple, Jowan felt uncertain of what to believe. How could he know what was true and what was false when he had no earthy inclination of either? ‘Cullen informed me that when he found me I was trapped in the water under the sheet of ice.’ Jowan recounted ‘He didn’t know how long I’d been there but he was at a loss at how I was alive. Nevertheless, I was alive and have no reason to think otherwise, no matter what this creature before us claims.’

The demon chuckled. ‘See how hard the Master works to protect you?’. The demon turned to Alistair, a curious tilt of his head bending towards the man. ‘Did Noctis tell you about the vision Master showed him that night? Master likes to show visions in the space between death and life. Both Leliana and Noctis receive them.’

Jowan looked up at the demon angrily. ‘There was no vision.’ he lied.

‘Really?’ grinned the demon. Pointing an elegant finger at Alistair, the demon nodded in encouragement. ‘Both you and Noctis here have children in this vision that he saw, and yet he refuses to share it with you? If anyone should have been told, I thought it would have been you?’

‘What’s he talking about?’ pressed Alistair ‘Jowan it feels like you’ve been keeping an awful lot of secrets?’

‘A mere dream doesn’t require explaining.’ dismissed Jowan, glaring at the demon ‘Leave it be, I keep no secrets.’.

The demon scoffed. ‘You cannot dismiss visions as mere dreams. Your visions are a truth that will be revealed to all in years to come.’

‘Fine,’ snapped Jowan ‘if you are so all knowing, explain the vision I’ve had twice now? Who is Queen Caerwyn? On the battlefield there was King Valahorn and King Kieran. I can safely guess who they are. Who is the third ruler on the battlefield? Who is Caerwyn?’

The demon nudged a head to the unconscious queen on the bed. ‘Who do you think?’

Alistair frowned, completely confused. ‘Is Ophelia this Queen Caerwyn?’

The demon chuckled at Jowan before looking to the king. It’s eyes glowed red as it stared intently at Alistair.

‘Caerwyn is your daughter,’ informed the demon ‘or the one that will come into the world should your friend here agree to make this deal on releasing Leliana. Your wife is with child. Would you allow your wife and daughter to die for the sake of refusing my request? And I promise you, your queen will die. The illness she fights has already taken her to the brink of death…one little push and silver coins will cover her eyes.’

‘So you want Leliana and in turn you will save Ophelia and her child?’ clarified Jowan.

‘Yes.’ affirmed the demon ‘I come only for Leliana, nothing more. The place that you keep her locked away is somewhere we cannot reach. Your magic has become too strong, Master is not happy. ’

‘Then make the deal.’ encouraged Alistair fearfully, turning to Jowan with a nod. ‘What are we waiting for? Give him Leliana.’

‘This is more complicated than I ever could have anticipated.’ observed Jowan quietly, looking to Alistair with fearful eyes. ‘There is much to consider and much to explain, but I would ask you to wait until we can speak alone.’

‘Then consider it quickly,’ warned the demon ‘Your queen will die if you do not deliver Leliana to us soon. Noctis, let me be the first to advise you not let you pride turn a blind eye to reason. Do not foolishly believe there is another outcome for Ophelia. If you refuse, she will die.’

Alistair grabbed Jowan’s arm fearfully and the mage raised his hand sharply to placate the man.

‘Your Majesty we have much to consider.’ warned Jowan ‘If I have the demon’s word to stave off Ophelia’s death until we speak again, I will go now and return soon.’

The demon bowed. ‘Of course. Master knows you will do what is right. He entrusts you to take care of Valahorn and raise him to the leader he will be. Master will take care of Leliana, there is no need to worry about her.’. The demon raised a slender finger. ‘But I warn you, if you do not give Leliana to him, he will see this as a sign of your betrayal and be forced to take away Valahorn. He will be forced to do a great deal of terrible things until you give him what he wants.’

‘Duly noted.’ observed Jowan icily.

‘Good.’ replied the demon ‘I look forward to speaking to you soon. Do not wait too long, there is only so long we can keep your friend alive.’. With a bow, the demon turned to Alistair and nodded politely. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, King of Ferelden. I hope that Noctis makes the right decision and saves your queen and child.’.

Engulfed in the blue flame and red smoke, the demon began to fade until it and the flame had died down into nothing more but thin air. The flames from the fire lit up once more and the room felt normal once more, aside from the two pale men staring blankly at the empty ring of salt on the ground.

*****

The winding road of The Imperial Highway that weaved around Lake Calenhad was quiet that evening. No merchant or civilian in their right mind would dare venture along the Highway after dark, despite the area being patrolled by guards. It was common knowledge that highwaymen often hid behind the large rocks and trees that resided near the road and waited for an opportunity to attack an unsuspecting traveler. 

As dusk fell, Cullen galloped along the highway as fast as he could, undeterred by the hour. He had ridden hard since Jader and the foamy snort of his horse warned him he would ride the beast into an early grave unless he slowed his pace soon.

Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Cullen cast his eyes across the dark empty crops. He noticed a spark of light in the distance and to his surprise it appeared to be approaching him rather quickly. Dropping his hand to his hilt, the Commander remained alert and ready. Perhaps he even craved a potential fight, even welcomed it? Something to distract him from the current bleak reality. The reality that he may lose Ophelia forever. His hand lingered at his sword until he finally was able to make out the figure on the horse approaching.

‘Michel?’ Cullen remarked in surprise ‘Michel de Chevin?’

The Orlesian Chevalier galloped swiftly over towards the Commander, turning his horse to side up to Cullen’s in an effortless manner. The chevalier was a skilled horseman but one had to only see him ride on the open roads to see how exceptional he was.

Michel grim face revealed his state of mind; his dancing eyes and bon vivant personality now replaced with a haunted and rather bleak demeanor.

‘Cullen I saw you riding from up ahead.’ observed Michel, pulled a flask from his saddle pocket. He took several thirsty gulps before replacing the cork. ‘I haven’t seen anyone riding along the highway for hours.’

Cullen’s sandy brows lifted in surprise as his eyes ran across the pitch-black landscape before him. ‘I wasn’t even riding with a torch, how in the Maker’s name did you know it was me?’

‘We half-elves have better night vision than men.’ informed Michel, throwing a sly glance to his companion. ‘And we’re faster riders for the better part. I don’t think I’ve ever managed to ride down Gherlen’s Pass as quick as I have this afternoon. The trees were a green blur and all I could focus on was the road. Before I knew it I was at Lake Calenhad. You must have ridden at a fair pace yourself coming all the way from Jader?’

Cullen clenched his jaw as he stared on straight ahead. ‘From Jader the Imperial Highway is long, windy and never-ending. I rode with the wind at my back, a cloud in my mind and fear in my heart. It makes for good riding.’

‘Do you think...’. Michel’s voice cracked as he looked to the Commander beside him. ‘Do you think it is true? Is Ophelia…dying?’

The Commander grew quiet, shaking his head in reply. Perhaps it was the exhaustion or the fact that he knew nothing of the facts, but even thinking about Ophelia was wounding him on the inside. An iron ball weighed in his stomach and his chest physically ached.

‘I don’t know Michel, I just don’t know.’ answered Cullen quietly.

‘I keep on thinking; did Alistair have some part to play in this?’ confessed Michel ‘Is he responsible? Ophelia has been locked away in Redcliffe Castle and now she is dying? How does that happen without some foul play? The only people that generally die in castles are tortured prisoners and poisoned nobles. I cannot believe Alistair would do either to her but the fact is remains she was under his care and now she is dying. Did he beat her? I can't stop thinking all the terrible things he could have done.’

Cullen clenched the reins in his fists, the groan of tightened leather pulling under his strength. ‘If Alistair has played any part in Ophelia’s condition I will make him pay.’

‘Of course it could be a trap to lure us back into a prison of our own?’ added Michel quietly ‘He’s declared us both traitors, what better way to bring us back to justice.’

Turning his amber eyes to the Orlesian, Cullen looked grave indeed. ‘Michel if we are being lured back as trap then that would be a blessing compared to what I suspect is the truth. My fiancé was taken by this King of Ferelden and now he writes desperately from her deathbed asking us to come say goodbye? How am I to come to terms with that? My grief compels me to make haste, yet my vengeance whispers me to strike hard. I’m filled with rage and sorrow and utter fucking confusion. I fear the truth will be the death of me, yet still I am compelled to ride towards it.’

Michel looked sadly across the dark valley where they rode, his face deathly pale under the half moon above. ‘Cullen if you take that path then you will die. Ophelia would never have wanted that.’

‘If she is dead then I have no desire in living in this feeble world.’ declared Cullen darkly. He cast a stern look at the chevalier. ‘Why have you come? To say a fond adieu to the woman before her eyes shut closed for good? Will that make you feel better? If there is no anger in your heart then what good are you, for her sake and for mine? She deserves vengeance, Michel. Anyone who loved her would see that and seek it.’

Sighing at the comment, Michel succumbed to own his thoughts. 

The horses snorted icy plumes into the night as the men rode in silence.

‘Must I spill blood to prove my love?’ Michel finally replied. ‘All I want in this moment is to be with her and tell her she is not alone. That she is loved and not alone, and if she needs to let go then that is okay also.’. The chevalier wiped away tears from his eyes, sniffing defiantly to cease his grief. ‘My wife died alone. I will not let that happen again.’

Digging his heels into the stirrups, the Commander's horse’s pace began to speed up once more.

‘Now is not the time for talking.’ observed Cullen sternly ‘Let us ride and ride hard to Redcliffe Castle. Maker knows I cannot bare living in this moment of uncertainty for much longer.’

****

Jowan cursed angrily under his breath, kicking the ring of salt at his feet before retreating to the fireplace. There were no words for what he was feeling after just speaking to the demon and in the silence of the room he desperately tried to calm his racing thoughts.

‘I…I….I don’t know what to say?’ began Alistair, appearing just as shocked as the mage. The king began to pace the room, stopping in broken off strides to clutch his hair in disbelief. ‘I..I don’t know what to say? I mean…Maker help us. I don’t.. I don’t know what to say?’

‘Then say nothing!’ snapped Jowan. Drawing closer to the fire, his thin limbs stretched out the flames, soaking in the heat. ‘Whatever you are feeling, I promise you I am feeling that a million times over.’

‘Is it true then?’ asked Alistair fearfully ‘Is any of what that demon is saying true?’

Jowan’s strength had waned after casting the spell and the man felt terribly cold and weak. Yet even Jowan knew he couldn’t blame spell casting for what he felt. It was fear, not fatigue, that was making his hands shake.

‘If what that demon says is true then I have been played by Sapientes from the day I was born.’ informed Jowan darkly. ‘Forgive me, Alistair, but it is a little hard to digest knowing that I have been shaped like clay by this demonic creature. Every decision I’ve made, every step I’ve taken, has been directed by Sapientes will.’

‘You kidnapped Leliana?’ groaned Alistair, drawing closer to the fire to face the mage. ‘Why? What would make you do something so…so..’

‘Foolhardy?’ suggested the mage.

Jowan laughed bitterly at the comment, his dark brown eyes looking into the flame. Perhaps it was the heat, but a hint of moisture glistened in his eyes as he gazed into the embers.

‘Alistair, life is complicated. You of all people should know that.’ muttered Jowan. ‘Leliana planned to keep my son from me. Whether you believe it or not, I had little choice if I ever wanted to see Valahorn.’

‘So you lured her into this place where the demons are? To this cave, and then locked her up in there?’ observed Alistair bluntly ‘She’s the Divine. No matter what gripes we have with her, and I know better than most how she can be, she is the head of the Chantry. How did you ever think you’d get away with it?’

The mage looked angrily to the king. ‘Well I had gotten away with it, hadn’t I?’

Consumed by his own worrying thoughts, Alistair fell silent for quite some time. He finally turned to Jowan once more.

‘Jowan, I know how it feels to be kept away from your child.’ acknowledged Alistair ‘Morrigan ran off with Kieran before he was born, and the only reason I ever found him was by pure luck. Whatever is going on between you and Leliana is not my business and I will not judge you one way or the other. I know how callous Leliana can be Perhaps you were right to lock her away in place where she could do no harm? Perhaps that is why we should consider giving her to this Sapientes? We do not owe Leliana anything. For the sake of Ophelia and my unborn child I am begging you to give Sapientes what he asks for. It’s terrible to request such a fate for Leliana and Maker knows I would not suggest it but….Jowan, if it is the only way to ensure Ophelia and my daughter lives then we must do it.’

‘Nothing is as simple as it seems.’ dismissed Jowan dismally ‘Do you not see that we are now in an impossible situation? If we give Leliana to Sapientes we are all signing our death warrants. Leliana will most definitely take vengeance and as Sapientes bride I assume her every wish will be granted in due time. You, me, everyone that has ever crossed her will suffer horrifically. And yet if we refuse Sapientes and do not hand over Leliana, the same fate will occur at the hand of this damnable demon who loves me as a son and expects me to dance to his every whim. And if you knew Sapientes like I do you would not doubt his power. You would tread very very carefully in any matter where he is concerned.’. Jowan shivered, pulling his robe tighter around his frame. ‘He is not an enemy you want to have. This is the worst possible scenario I could have ever imagined. Everything that I've ever believed in has become tainted by this demon. Whatever we choose to do, it makes no difference.’

‘My wife and child will be dead, that is the difference.’ point out Alistair sternly.

‘You do now know Sapientes as I do.’ muttered Jowan ‘There is a far bigger issue that we face now. This is Corypheus all over, but this this time we’re dealing with a highly intelligent and powerful ancient demon - not some mind fuddled senile crony from old Tevinter. Alistair, I don’t just fear for Ophelia and your unborn child. I fear for Thedas.’. The mage began laughing, the shrill high pitched of disbelief ringing in the silence of the room. ‘I don’t even believe in the Maker and yet here I am fearing now that he has actually forsaken us all!!! Corypheus claimed it and now Sapientes has reaffirmed the Chantry’s worst nightmare. The Maker has bailed on us.’

Alistair’s brown eyes looked sternly at the mage. ‘I will not believe it. The Maker would never do that. He guides us all for eternity.’

The mage sighed miserably. ‘Saying it does not make it so. It doesn’t matter. None of this was what I expected when I said I would make a deal for Ophelia’s life.’. Jowan closed his eyes, pained by the reality that lay before them. ‘Tomorrow we must make a decision and hope they arrive before we make that call.’

‘Wait for who to arrive?’ frowned Alistair. Suddenly he realised who Jowan was referring to and shook his head. ‘You speak of Cullen and Michel? What would they have anything to do with this decision?’

‘When it comes to Leliana, Cullen has everything to do with this decision.’ frowned Jowan ‘She is obsessed with the man and if I release her from the cave he’ll be the first one she comes for.’

Alistair shook his head in confusion. ‘Good?! Who cares if she does? I’m not taking into consideration what is in Cullen’s best interests here.’

‘You don’t understand.’ groaned Jowan ‘Leliana will go get Cullen and then she’ll come for me and my son!’

‘Then I swear you will have my protection.’ vouched Alistair ‘You and Valahorn will never have to fear her as long as I live. I will keep you and your son as safe as my own flesh and blood.’

‘Well that’s the point, isn’t it?’ observed Jowan crisply ‘You’re not going to be too far down on her vengeance list when she realises what part you played in this deal.’

‘I can defend myself.’ reassured Alistair.

‘And if you can’t? Who is going to protect your children from Leliana?!’ quipped Jowan irritably ‘She knows about Kieran and will go after him and your daughter. Everyone you care for will be in jeopardy.’

‘Who better than the King of Ferelden to protect them?’ argued Alistair ‘We all have our enemies, Jowan. Me most of all. You think my ascension to the throne hasn’t been contested since the day I was born? From within Ferelden and outside, I have my enemies. Orlais and Antiva would far better prosper if the only living heir to the Theirin line dies and Ferelden falls in chaos. My kingdom is very well accustomed to protecting the royal family from threats throughout Thedas. Better the threat be from Leliana than an ancient demon that has already proven how easy it is for him to poison my queen from right under our very noses. We choose out battles Jowan, and we choose them as wisely as we can. Leliana is mortal so we stand a chance defending ourselves from her. If we get on the wrong side of Sapientes then we face a harder battle. And you will most definitely lose your son if we cross Sapientes at present.’

The mage appeared gobsmacked. ‘So that is your decision? Roll over and let Sapientes rule Thedas because he is the easier choice? Shall I start stitching some Ferelden Welcomes Demons pillows and put on a pot of tea while we wait for the demise of human civilisation?’

‘Of course not.’ frowned Alistair ‘But do you really think this is the last we’re going to hear of Sapientes? We need time to prepare our next move rather than put a bee in his bonnet at present. Give him what he wants for now. You get to keep your son and I get to keep my daughter. How is this not the better option at present?!’

Jowan sighed, slumping down onto the bench by the fire. ‘You’re right.’ he observed in defeat ‘Giving Leliana to Sapientes is the safer option at present. But Alistair I fear so much more in days to come.’

‘Like what?’ asked Alistair curiously.

The mage’s face was troubled as he looked towards the king. ‘I fear Leliana will gain more power than ever before once this deal has been struck. I fear the mortal that arose from the dead and became the powerful Divine was given but a pinch of the power that she is now about to wield. And if that is the case, I cannot tell you who I fear more? Sapientes or Leliana.’


	116. Secrets in the Castle

The lively chatter of soldiers relieved to be back home filled the outside courtyard of Redcliffe Castle that night. The firepits were burning brightly, casting tall shadows of the lively men and women on the stone walls of the castle. Slurring soldiers poured toasts and boisterous guards clapped to the jovial fiddles and flutes, while roast chickens and loaves were passed around to hungry mouths who washed the moreish feastings down with overflowing cups of sweet mead.

It was a joyous occasion that night, for the soldiers of Redcliffe had returned victorious from Ostagar. And in their victory the spirits of all Ferelden men and women had been lifted once more. The darkspawn had been cleared out and their underground passages had been sealed up. The people of Ferelden were safe and they owed it all to a King that had responded without delay and solved a crisis before the bloodshed of innocents were spilled.

_Three cheers to King Alistair - our glorious king!_

_Son of King Marric, grandson of The Rebel Queen_

_His blood is blessed and his heart is pure._

_Three cheers to King Alistair – our glorious king!_

As lively as the crowd were, there was one man who did not entertain the free mead and meat with as much enthusiasm. The Redcliffe knight, Ser Perth, stood by the stone wall and soberly took in the festivities around him. Occasionally his eyes fell to a smiling woman, whose beauty struck him. He admired her face whilst pretending to be interested in the droll conversation of his fellow knight, Ser Ryan, who was standing beside him.

‘He’s a good man, our king.’ acknowledged Ser Ryan, taking a bite from a chicken drumstick. ‘While we’re all feasting and drinking, he’s up there attending to his queen. If she’s anything like my wife she’s probably guilting him from being away for so long. Nagging, most like, that he didn’t bring her back a present. Hah!’

‘You have a shadowy view on women, my friend.’ observed Ser Perth.

His brown eyes lifted to the second floor of the castle where dark windows presented themselves. Not one candle burned from the rooms above, and Ser Perth found that quite odd.

‘You’re not married, you don’t know women like I do.’ retorted Ryan ‘Wife, Lady, Commoner, Queen – they’re all the same nagging presence sent here to torture us.’

‘The Chantry tells us to honour women, for they are the creators of life and nurturers of all men.’ replied Ser Perth diplomatically. He cast a mischievous look to his companion. ‘Besides the only nagging presence I see tonight is the one beside me right now.’

Ryan chuckled. ‘Well I’m not the one keeping our King away when he should be here enjoying a good cup of stout braggot.’

‘No Ryan, there is something more to it.’ frowned Ser Perth. He drew his eyes away from the dark castle, turning to his companion seriously. ‘I’ve heard rumours that the queen is unwell? A mere whisper here and there, but no one seems able to tell me what is actually going on. Or won’t? And why is it that Arl Eamon rode out of the castle so hastily when we first arrived back? Did you see him? Practically galloped over several of my men because he was in such a hurry to get out of here. Eamon is our King’s uncle and he couldn’t even spare a moment to celebrate with his nephew? Enjoy the accolades? No, something doesn’t feel right. Our king should be here celebrating with us on this night and yet I fear something sinister is keeping him at bay.’

Ryan shrugged, taking another bite of his chicken leg. ‘His Majesty wasn’t that lively back in Ostagar either if you recall? Kept to himself for the better part. He’s the king, probably got a million things to do that are more important than feasting with us lot.’

‘And the sudden departure of the Arl?’ pressed Ser Perth, clearly unconvinced ‘You don’t think that was odd?’

Ryan shrugged. ‘Well we’ve done our job in Ostagar and now we’re back to our old duties. The Arl most likely had the council in the city breathing down his neck to return. Politics my friend, it’s beyond you or me. Besides he’s not Arl of Redcliffe anymore, Eamon’s place is in Denerim.’

‘OPEN THE GATES! OPEN THE GATES!!!!’

Shouting from the guards at the gate drew the knights’ attention away from their conversation. Ser Perth approached hastily to the gate to see two men riding furiously up the hill and across the drawbridge towards the castle.

‘Open the gates!’ yelled the guard at the gate loudly, waving his arms to the men who controlled the entrance to the castle. ‘Commander Cullen and Ser Michel de Chevin approach, open the gates at once!’

Slowly the iron lifted, rumbling the grounds of the courtyard as it opened for the men waiting on the other side.

Ser Perth ran over to the guard, perplexed as to what was happening.

‘It’s past sun down! Why do you allow these men into the castle at such an hour?’ demanded Ser Perth. ‘By royal protocol we are never to allow guests into the castle after sun down. Especially when the King and Queen are in residence.’

The guard, a man named Gerrin, ignored the protests of the knight as he waved the men in. In a flurry on hooves the pair galloped past Ser Perth into the courtyard and dismounted just as quickly.

‘Gerrin, I asked you a question!’ ordered Ser Perth sharply ‘I would like an answer.’

The guard waved to his men to close the gate once more. Finally, he turned back to the knight glaring at him.

‘Why? ‘Cause His Majesty gave me a bloody order to allow them in when they arrived.’ replied Gerrin gruffly ‘I take Orders from the king, not you.’. Noticing Ser Perth’s confused look, the guardsman sighed. ‘With all respect, a lot has happened here since you lot left for Ostagar. I’m not at liberty to say what’s going on, but you’d best return to the group and celebrate your victory. Enjoy tonight Ser Perth, for I reckon there won’t be any more celebrating for a while.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Ser Perth in surprise.

Patting the knight on the shoulder, Gerrin turned back to his post at the gate, a heaviness in his stride as he walked away.

With a frown Ser Perth wrestled his way through the gathering crowd and up the steps to the castle. He was eager to follow the hasty footsteps of Commander Cullen and Michel de Chevin, who had just entered through the main doors to Redcliffe Castle.

****

Shouting filled the halls as Cullen and Michel marched their way into the throne room of the castle. Several guards, including Arl Teagan, stood at the doors leading to the main foyer of the castle. They stood before the men, blocking access to the main floor and refusing to let them proceed deeper into the castle.

‘Stop right there!’ commanded Arl Teagan ‘We’re under orders not to allow anyone past this point.’. The Arl raised his brows, suddenly recognising the pair. ‘Oh? What are you both doing here?’. Although surprised, it was clear that he did not seem happy to be seeing either of them. ‘This isn’t a good time, I’m afraid you’re both going to have to leave.’

'We're here to see Ophelia.' informed Cullen.

Teagan rolled his eyes, exchanging a laugh with several of the men.

Without ceasing his pace, Cullen attempted to shove past the men. The guards angrily pushed back, refusing the Commander to pass.

‘Get out of my way!’ Cullen growled angrily ‘We’ve been summoned by the king, you fools. Where is Alistair? Where is Ophelia? Take us to them now!’

Rubbing his red beard in irritation, the Arl clicked his fingers to his guards and several blades were drawn.

‘King Alistair and Queen Ophelia are currently indisposed.’ informed Arl Teagan coldly ‘You’d best leave now before this becomes unpleasant.’

Possessed by a frantic desire to get past the group, Cullen withdrew his sword. ‘You want a fight? Fine.’

The guards stepped closer with weapons drawn and Michel de Chevin raised his hands desperately to placate the situation.

‘Cullen you wouldn’t come all this way just to have us killed right on the doorstep of the castle, would you?’ laughed Orlesian nervously ‘Need I remind you we’re in Ferelden?’. He looked to Arl Teagan, silently imploring him to aid the pair. ‘Please,’ appealed Michel ‘we were summoned here by King Alistair.’

Teagan scoffed at the chevalier. ‘You would be the last person Alistair would invite back into his company.’

The Orlesian hastily reached for the letter in his breast pocket and flung it forward to the Arl. ‘Here. Written by King Alistair himself. He has ordered us to make haste in seeing him. The matter, as you know, is extremely urgent.’

Begrudgingly one of the guardsmen accepted the note, handing it to the Arl. While Teagan was reading over the letter, his attention was turned to a knight approaching the group from behind.

‘Ser Perth, did you allow these men into the castle?’ grumbled Arl Teagan, running his eyes over the correspondence. ‘That’d be about bloody right. You know His Majesty ordered the upper levels to be cleared out. No one is to be in here.’

Cullen and Michel exchanged suspicious glances.

‘Any reason why your king wants to get everyone out of the castle?’ asked Cullen.

Teagan scoffed, throwing the letter back at the men. ‘The arrogance of you both is unbelievable. You barge your way into my castle and then have the nerve to question our king’s orders? Alistair may have sent this letter to you, but personally I don’t believe either of you deserved such respect. All I know is he is busy at present and no one is to disturb him.’

‘I can escort them to His Majesty?’ volunteered Ser Perth, nodding to the pair. ‘Please my Arl, they are honourable men of high rank. If they say the king has summoned them perhaps we should let the king decide if he wishes to see them?’

Crossing his arms, Teagan looked at the men as if they were toads in the mud. ‘Ser Perth, these men are anything but honourable.’

‘Your king has begged us in this letter to come and here we are.’ argued Cullen. ‘Read the letter again, King Alistair is imploring us to come to him immediately. Alistair himself has put aside his grievances with both us because he knows Ophelia would want us to be here. Please Arl Teagan.’. Cullen turned to Michel, throwing him a frown. ‘You’re right. I will not stand here and claim either of us are honourable men, but you are. I implore you to find it in your mercy to let us pass.’

‘I’ll take them to His Majesty directly,’ reassured Ser Perth ‘and escort them back here if he desires it. You have my word, my Arl.’

Ser Perth nodded in encouragement to Arl Teagan. The man appeared unwilling, but motioned to the guards to lower their weapons. After a few uncertain looks between the guards they hesitantly sheathed their swords.

‘They’re in the royal chambers.’ informed Teagan ‘You’ll find the mage Jowan is with His Majesties also. Ser Perth, if any of the party shows distress or wishes either of these men to leave I am ordering you to escort them out of the castle immediately. If either of them acts in any hostile manner I order you to take them to the dungeons.’

‘You have my word on that also.’ reassured Ser Perth.

Pointing to the guard closest to him, Teagan nudged his head to Cullen and Michel. ‘Take their weapons. They can have them back when they leave the castle.’

Desperate to proceed, Michel unsheathed his elven blade and a small dagger from within his boot and handed it over. Although clearly displeased, Cullen also gave his longsword to the guard.

Not desiring to wait for Arl Teagan to change his mind, the trio pressed on forward hastily. Their hurried footsteps echoed along the isolated hall, past the decorative suits of armour that appeared as ghosts in steel standing along the corridor, and up the stairs to the second level.

‘Thank you.’ muttered Cullen, casting an eye to Ser Perth. ‘You didn’t need to intervene but I appreciate that you did.’

‘I sensed an urgency, it was the least I could do.’ confessed Ser Perth, leading the way up the stairs to the second floor of the castle. His eyes lifted to the isolated dark area before them, a sitting area that was usually brightly lit at night. ‘It’s at times like this that I recall the days when Arl Eamon fell ill. Quiet halls and a foreboding feeling one could not shake. This does not feel right.’

Michel stepped into the deserted second floor with trepidation. ‘Ser Perth, what has happened here? Why does the castle appear so dark and abandoned? And why does your Arl stand guard, keeping all away from here?’

Ser Perth pursed his lips, appearing at a loss of an explanation. ‘The celebration’s outside have drawn a crowd. But even the greatest celebrations do not give cause for the king to keep his people away from the castle. We had our orders to stay outside this eve, and Arl Teagan has had his orders to keep people from entering. As strange as it sounds, most of us were distracted by the lure of food and ale. Yet...my uneasiness has brought me here, and my concern shall drive me forward until I too find the answers to all that has happened.’

‘The queen is dying and Alistair keeps it a secret from everyone.’ scorned Cullen, throwing a displeased look to Michel. ‘You must see who we’re dealing with now? He’s ashamed of what has happened. Only a guilty man keeps his distance.’

‘Or a cautious one?’ argued Michel. The Orlesian shook his head, as if unwilling to make a judgement as quick as his companion. ‘Alistair must have his reasons for not wanting this to be common knowledge.’

Ser Perth stopped dead in his tracks, gobsmacked by what had just been revealed. ‘Dying? Her Majesty Queen Ophelia is dying?’

‘We don’t have time for this, come on.’ ordered Cullen, marching up the hallway ‘Tell me, which way to the royal chambers?’

Ser Perth caught up to the men, his expression still stunned. ‘This way, come quick.’ he replied quietly.

***

The room was still as the two men sat in silence, lost in their troubled thoughts. Alistair remained by the bed. His head was lowered, as if in prayer, and there he had been since the end of the ritual. Jowan sat by the fire wrapping his cut arm in cloth, his dark eyes dancing with the reflection of the flames as he stared intently into the heated void.

Too many truths had been revealed, or too many lies concealed? What was to be done with such facts and fictions?

‘No matter how many times I go over this I can’t see a way out.’ murmured Jowan ‘There’s just…no way out of all of this.’

‘That doesn’t mean that there isn’t a way out?’ observed Alistair, his head still lowered.

Jowan clenched his jaw, pulling the cloth tighter. ‘Of course it does.’

Shouting from outside of the room distracted the pair, and before they had barely arisen from their seats a pounding on the door sounded.

Bang, bang, bang! BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!

‘Maker hang the lot of them!’ cursed Alistair ‘I said I wanted privacy. So clearly that means come pound on my bedroom door.’

‘Cleared the castle, did you?’ muttered Jowan, hastily grabbing a blanket from the end of the bed. He threw it roughly over part of scattered circle of salt in a feeble attempt to cover up the ritual that had taken place.

‘Well I did.’ Alistair frowned, making his way to the door. Unlocking it, he opened it a crack. ‘What is it? The Queen is asleep, and I asked to left alone-‘

Alistair grew quiet, suddenly locking eyes with Cullen.

Cullen placed a firm hand on the door. ‘Please Alistair,’ he appealed ‘I need to see her. Please. Please.’

Alistair nodded, stepping aside to allow the men in. Ser Perth bowed respectfully to the king while Michel froze at the door, his blue eyes fearfully landing on the bed in the corner of the room.

‘Mon dieu.’ he whispered to himself.

‘Maker help me.’ exclaimed Cullen, rushing over to where Ophelia lay.

The Commander fell to his knees, running his hands desperately across her clammy forehead. His lips fell to her cheek, pressing to her flesh tenderly. Desperately. Presented with his greatest fear, Cullen held her desperately as if clutching onto to her life so it could not be distinguished before his very eyes. And yet even in his arms she did not stir, limp like a ragdoll that had seen better days. Deathly white and expressionless, it was if he embraced a corpse.

‘Maker’s breath, what has happened to you?’ he whispered ‘I didn’t believe it. This can’t be true? What has happened?’. Kissing her cheek several more times, he nuzzled his forehead to her neck. Tears filled his amber eyes but he furiously wiped them away, refusing to morn just yet. ‘It’ll be okay, you must hold on. You’re strong, I know you can fight this. We will get you help. I’m here now. You’re safe Ophelia. I’m here with you.’

Alistair turned his head, uneasy at the sight before him. He retreated to the fireplace where Jowan lingered. 

‘She has been sick for weeks, but in the last few days her sickness has taken a turn for the worse. That is when she lost consciousness.’ informed Jowan quietly ‘I’ve only been able to treat her for the last two days.’

‘How is that so?’. Michel shook his head at the mage, clearly confused. ‘Jowan you left Skyhold weeks ago and no doubt been in Redcliffe for longer than a few days. Why did you not tend to her sooner?’

Jowan cast a look to Alistair, as if silently giving him the opportunity to answer the question.

Alistair sighed, shaking his head. ‘My uncle Eamon had given orders that Ophelia not be allowed to receive visitors in my absence.’ explained Alistair ‘He felt it best decision at the time.’

‘He couldn’t make an exception for when she was dying?’ asked Cullen in disgust ‘Eamon is a fucking coward.’

Alistair’s face fell in shadow. ‘Perhaps you are right?’ he acknowledged quietly ‘Ophelia had been ill for some time and it was Eamon that had her confined to her chambers. He kept this a secret, even from me. I was never even sent word of her sickness. I knew nothing until I arrived here.’

‘Her fever is out of control.’ Cullen observed, hastily grabbing the cloth from a water basin beside the bed. ‘We need to get her temperature down.’. Pressing the cloth onto her face, the Commander shook his head as tears formed in his eyes. He turned to glare at Jowan, who was silently watching from the fireplace. ‘Why are you not taking care of her properly?’ asked Cullen hoarsely, catching his emotion and choking on it in his throat.

Drawing his robe tighter across his shoulders, the mage approached the bed.

‘I’ve done everything I can.’ Jowan informed gently ‘We’ve tried everything. If there was anything I could have done I would have done it. You know that.’

‘It’s true.’ affirmed Alistair ‘The castle physician and Jowan have been working tirelessly in trying to help Ophelia in any way they can.’

‘So how exactly did this happen?’ demanded Cullen. He turned to Alistair, unable to contain the loathing he always felt around the man. ‘You’ve a lot of explaining to do. You and your uncle have kept her locked away for months like some damn prisoner and now she’s dying?!! Is this your way of teaching her a lesson?’

Alistair scowled at the comment, his brow furrowed in annoyance. ‘If you think me that sort of person then you don’t know me at all. Like I said, I was in Ostagar until a few days ago, clearing out the darkspawn of the Tower of Ishal. Nothing that has transpired here was my fault.’

‘She’s here because of you.’ growled Cullen ‘Everything that has transpired here is your fault, you fool.’

‘Jowan had sent letters to Ophelia and she never replied to them.’ interjected Michel angrily ‘They are close friends, she never would have ignored him. It’s clear she was being kept from contacting anyone on the outside of the castle. Whether you were here or at Ostagar does not diminish the fact that she was being prevented from contacting those that care about her. Eamon would have been instructed by you, an Arl would not be at liberty to have such control over a Queen. She was being kept away from the world by your orders, wasn’t she? Why?’

Alistair glared angrily at the Orlesian. ‘Are you really going to stand there and ask me that? Do you really have no idea as to why that might have been? You of all people?’

Michel grew quiet as he struggled to hold back a flurry or abusive words. ‘So…you were punishing her because of me?’ he observed coldly, his blue eyes lifting in anger. It was rare to see the chevalier hostile, but as he eyeballed the king his fists shook in rage. ‘She was your wife and you treated her like a malfaiteur, casting her into the dungeons with the rats. Que Dieu ait pitié de vous.’

‘May the Maker have mercy on your soul also, Michel.’ replied Alistair darkly. ‘You forget that the king’s sons are taught to speak fluent Orlesian as children. Your words are well understood here.’

Disinterested in whether he was understood or not, the chevalier cursed at the king. ‘Je m’en fous.’

‘So you found out about Michel and Ophelia, sent Michel away and locked her up?’ remarked Cullen. ‘Did you make her sick as well? As punishment? Were you trying to kill her off so she wouldn’t be married to you anymore? You might as well lay it all out on the table Alistair, we’re not leaving here until we know why this has happened.’

‘Of course not!’ replied Alistair furiously ‘What a thing to say. No matter what has transpired between Ophelia and Michel, at the end of the day she was my wife and I swore to protect her. I returned to find her like this. I would never hurt Ophelia, she means everything to me.’

‘Then how is she here dying?!!’ yelled Cullen ‘Don’t stand there and claim this is some sort of freak illness that’s about to place Ophelia in the ground. I don’t believe it for one second. Someone was involved and Maker help me for it seems by all accounts to be you and your skeevy uncle.’

‘It was a demon.’ informed Jowan quietly.

Ser Perth crossed himself fearfully, while Cullen and Michel turned their heads swiftly to the mage.

‘What?!’ asked the men in unison.

Jowan nodded. ‘It’s true I’m afraid.’

‘I don’t believe it.’ frowned Michel ‘Why would a demon do this to Ophelia? It makes no sense?’

Cullen appeared equally unconvinced. ‘A poor excuse to cover up who is really at fault here.’

Ser Perth’s eyes fell to the centre of the room. He stumbled forward, pulling aside the blanket on the ground and pointing a shaking finger at the poorly concealed circle of salt. From the ring he then noticed the altar table, covered in vials and strange papers scribed with foreign markings and words.

‘Is this what we have walked into?’ the knight whispered fearfully ‘Demons and sorcery. This is witchcraft!’. The knight crossed himself fearfully with the symbol of the Chantry. ‘I recognise such things from the days when Connor was possessed.’. Ser Perth placed a hand on his hilt as he looked at Jowan. ‘You were the one that taught that child those evil practices. I remember like it was yesterday, walking in on you teaching Connor a ritual such as this. Your soul is corrupt and you would seek to ruin our King and Queen.’

Jowan narrowed his eyes in displeasure at the accusations. ‘I was teaching Connor the basics of ritual magic, as requested by your mistress at the time. Isolde asked me to come and teach the boy the fundamentals of magic, if you recall?’

‘No, I will not believe a word that comes out of your mouth.’ proclaimed Ser Perth ‘Your Majesty, whatever you have become entangled in here know it is an evil that must be purged. Do not follow down the dark path that this mage is leading you down. I implore you to do what should have been done twelve years ago. Cast him into the flames in the village square. Let the fires cleanse his evil form and send him to the Maker’s judgement.’

Crossing his arms irritably, Jowan glared at the knight. ‘Lovely.’ he replied.

Alistair drew his fingers to his eyes in fatigue. ‘Ser Perth, I understand your concerns but in this case you are mistaken. Jowan is trying to help.’

Cullen scoffed, eyeing the ring with reproach. ‘Hardly. It’s a summoning. You’ve tried to make a fucking deal with a demon, haven’t you?’

Jowan sighed, turning to Alistair. ‘Do you want to tell them what has happened, or shall I?’

‘Let’s take it in turns, shall we?’ replied Alistair wearily. Pulling some chairs close to the fire, the king beckoned the men forward. ‘Come, all of you sit down.’ he ordered ‘There is darkness to this story, but as you will soon learn it is not by the hand of anyone in this room.’

****

Banging her hands against the rock wall, her shrill calls for help had gone unheard since she had arrived. It had been days, and in the isolation it had felt like weeks. Months perhaps? An unnerving quietude filled the cave and it made her skin crawl with goosebumps.

‘Help! Help me please!’ yelled Leliana, banging on the cave’s wall. ‘Hello?! Can anyone help me??!! I’m trapped in here. Help, please help me!!!!’

Her head slung forward, defeated in the moment.

‘Demon, spirit, human, crazed magister – I don’t care who’s out there just as long as there is someone.’ Leliana croaked. slumping to the floor of the cave.

Scrunching her ginger hair into her hands, Leliana felt like sobbing hysterically but she knew she had to be strong. If she ever wanted to see her son again she needed to be stronger than she had ever been before. If what Jowan had said was true about this cave, a cave located in a place he called The Nephilim Realm, Leliana was trapped in a realm that was not Ferelden. A place supposedly crawling with demons. And while that made her escape much harder, she knew nothing was impossible. If she was able to get here she was able to get out. Somehow. Help would find her. The Maker hasn’t resurrected her twice in order to abandon her now.

‘Maker guide me. Hear my prayers. I need you to help me.’ she appealed, hands pressed desperately in prayer. ‘I’m here waiting for you to come. Please send help.’

A sudden wave of calm fell across her and breathing out a sigh of relief, Leliana pulled herself off the ground. It was as if a weight had suddenly lifted off her shoulders, and for some unknown reason she felt peaceful once more.

Everything was going to be alright. Leliana didn’t know how but she just knew it.

****

‘Maker have mercy on our souls.’ despaired Ser Perth ‘We’re all doomed.’

‘Doomed would be an accurate assessment of where we’re at.’ mused Jowan bitterly, a chuckle rattling his parched throat into a husky cough of hysterics.

The knight was displeased by the mage’s laughter. ‘You joke sir? At such a time as this you would find humour?’

‘According to you I’m an evil witch, aren’t I?’ muttered Jowan ‘What did you expect?’

The mage ran a delicate hand over the cloth now tied firm around the wounds on his arm. Wounds previously inflicted when performing the ritual, they would form into scars and serve as another reminder of the dark arts he had performed.

‘Ser Perth let me give you some advice. Bad things will happen. You cannot escape it, life is suffering. How you choose to deal with it, however, is your choice.’. He lifted his dark eyes to the knight. ‘Never lose your humour. Not even in the darkest hour.’

After a detail account of the recent events by mage and king, including all that was revealed by the demon during the summoning, Alistair and Jowan had left the men in the room suitably shocked. They listened on with wide eyes and murmurs of disbelief before staring blankly at each other, completely at a loss for words. Nothing could have prepared them for such a tale and nothing could have prepared them for the doubt it now cast on all their futures.

Cullen blinked his eyes several times, as if waking from a terrible dream, and suddenly he stood up fast from his seat to pace the room. His boots tapped loudly, sending tremors through the glasses on the altar table. Several times he flashed a stern glare at Jowan, concealing thoughts that his serious amber eyes refused to reveal. Finally he stopped before Alistair, a furious glint in his eye.

Alistair rose to meet him calmly, as if he’d anticipated no other reaction from the man.

‘Cullen, I know this is a shock.’ began Alistair ‘I know this news brings you no delight.’

Shaking his head, Cullen took a step closer to the man. He looked as if he was about to murder Alistair, and by the edging of Ser Perth towards the men it appeared the group suspected he may try.

‘Am I delighted that Ophelia is carrying your fucking child??!!!’ hissed Cullen ‘No, can’t say that I’m delighted about that.’

Michel clutched his hair in his hands, his face fallen to the ground. He said nothing but it was clear he was devastated by the news.

‘This is as much a surprise to me as it is to you.’ replied Alistair ‘I wasn’t expecting it.’

Cullen laughed in reply. ‘Oh yes, how surprised you must have been to find out she was with child when you returned from Ostagar. Were I oblivious to the fact that you are a lying snake I might even congratulate you? You do realise that I know?’

‘Know what?’ frowned Alistair.

Furiously the Commander stepped closer to the man, nose to nose, his threatening tall stature standing in front of the king. ‘I know the truth that you’ve failed to tell everyone in this room.’ Cullen informed dangerously. ‘Ophelia told me about your fucking intentions. The night she was last at Skyhold, before you had her dragged away by your men, she told me that you – YOU – would sire an heir and she would be forced to bare your child. Whether she wanted to or not. In her distress she told me on that night that she did not want your child….and yet here we are.’

Lifting his brows in surprise, Alistair shook his head. ‘This child was created in a loving union. Whether you wish to hear it or not, Ophelia and I were in an intimate relationship. We were husband and wife, surely you knew we would be sharing a bed?’

‘Raping someone isn’t a loving union you fucking coward!!’ roared Cullen. Swinging his arm, he clipped Alistair on the chin and sent the king falling backwards. Michel rushed to the Commander’s side, holding him back as Alistair held up a hand to Ser Perth who was furiously about to come to his defence.

‘No man shall lay a finger on the King of Ferelden!’ yelled the knight ‘He should be punished for such dishonour!’

‘It’s fine, put away your sword Ser Perth.’ ordered Alistair tiredly ‘I’m certain Cullen momentarily forgot that I am at liberty to have him executed for such trespasses. If it happens again you have my permission to defend my honour.’. Alistair turned to Cullen sternly. ‘The truth may not be palatable but there it is. Ophelia wanted to lay with me, I will not let you say otherwise. But you’re right, she didn’t want a child with me. Eamon found the herb Pennyroyal in her belongings and had it confiscated. While she may have engaged willingly with me, she was withheld from aborting any child that might have been conceived. I hold full responsibility for that. And if I had my chance again I still would have prevented her from aborting any child we may have conceived. I am the king and she is the queen who carries the heir to the Ferelden bloodline. Nothing is more important to ensure that child is delivered safely into the world.’

‘Not even her freewill?’ scoffed Cullen ‘You weak excuse for a man. Look at her in that bed! She is not a vessel to deliver your heir and yet that is the real reason you’re entertaining this fucking deal with this demon, isn’t it? She would have been dead to the world had it not been for your heir she now carries. To be honest I’m rather glad she is with child, she may now have a fighting chance to outlive the night. You’d do anything to ensure that child is in your hands and your position remains steadfast.’

‘You do not know what is my heart Cullen.’ observed Alistair dangerously ‘If you did perhaps my first wife would still be alive, and so would Ophelia.’

‘We all know you took Ophelia from me to get your vengeance.’ growled Cullen ‘Well played my king, you’ll soon be able crow that you murdered the woman that I loved. Shall we be even then do you think?’

Alistair drew his fist in a ball, inches away from punching the man before him. ‘Ophelia is my wife, be careful of what you say.’

‘You never loved her.’ accused Cullen darkly ‘You still don’t. All you love is your title and the role that was handed to you on a silver platter. An heir secures it and you will ensure you get that security no matter the price. Ophelia never mattered to you and she still doesn’t. And you know what Alistair? That is what makes this entire thing more gut-wrenching. The fact that you took her away from the life that she wanted so it could end up like this.’

Alistair shook his head in disbelief. ‘She’s my wife and she carries my daughter. Wouldn’t you, in my shoes, be doing the exact same thing? A demon did this to her, and by the Maker I’ll get a demon to undo it.’

‘And by the Maker, you mean Sapientes?’ murmured Michel ‘Are we to ignore the terrible fact that we have no divine grace watching over us? That we are lost sheep with a shepherd that has abandoned us?’

‘Just because a demon says the Golden City is abandoned does not make it true.’ argued Alistair ‘Sapientes may have tricked Leliana into thinking he was the Maker, but that does not make him the Maker. That makes him like any other foul spirit that takes delight in deceiving mortals. This Sapientes is most likely as unremarkable as the rest of his kind.’

Jowan shook his head. ‘Sapientes is anything but unremarkable. That is what makes this all the more frightening.’

Michel slumped by the fire, kicking his boots against the stone edging. He said little that the common ear could translate, but much in scathing elvish. None of the party could discern the words but it was apparent they were filled with spite. Occasionally Michel switched to muttering in Orlesian, which also held the same foreboding feel.

‘Naturally this is shock to us all, we must forgive tempers flaring I suppose?’ muttered Alistair ‘After everything that has happened since the Blight we had naively believed the worst was behind us. None of us could ever have known this was going to happen. And now for this to occur when I am king, I feel the responsibility lies with me to destroy this demon. For the sake of my people, I cannot let this now rest. I cannot rest until Sapientes is defeated.’

Michel looked up at the king sharply. ‘We are all involved now. Who of us could rightly ignore what has been revealed. You will need to advise all the leaders of the realm.’

‘You mean Gaspard?’ replied Alistair flatly ‘So while I draw all my kingdom’s energy into destroying Sapientes, you and he will be using this distraction to your advantage? Is that right? Gaspard always crowed about the importance of knowing the weakness of his enemies. I’m sure you’ll have a lot to report back to him now?’

The chevalier drew up from his seat angrily.

‘My loyalty for the last few years has purely been to the Inquisition.’ reproached Michel ‘If there are any of us here that can claim their allegiance does not rule over greater moral dilemmas then it would be me.’

Alistair laughed at the comment, turning to see Cullen roll his eyes at the remark. The king eyed the chevalier up in down with a smirk.

‘If there are any of us here that can claim their allegiance does not rule over greater moral dilemmas then it would be me!’ taunted Alistair ‘Michel you think by now you’d be doing the opposite. Your partiality to greater moral dilemmas led you to being declared a traitor by Orlais. Isn’t that right? We all know where your moral compass swung during your stay at Skyhold. And you didn’t let your sworn allegiance to serve me at Denerim stop you from having an affair with my wife. Where you are concerned, great moral dilemmas always preside over your allegiance.’

Clenching his fist, Michel looked ready at taking a swing at the king. Surprisingly it was Cullen who now stepped forward, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘Let it be.’ he warned ‘Remember, we are in Ferelden. Choose your battles wisely.’

‘Like you did just before?’ observed Michel angrily ‘He deserves so much more and I would be happy to oblige.’

‘Yes, but I think he hates you more than me at present.’ whispered Cullen ‘If that’s even possible? So tread carefully.’

‘That’s wrong.’ informed Alistair bluntly ‘I truly dislike the pair of you in equal amounts.’

Throwing a filthy look at the king, Michel silently joined Jowan by the fire. Cullen shook his head, his attention now drawn onto the mage.

‘Jowan, I should have known.’ muttered Cullen. ‘You were different. None of the templars trusted you. You made us feel uneasy, and not in the usual way that odd mages made one feel. There was this unnerving presence about you. We should have known there was more to it. You’ve been caught red handed performing so many terrible deeds and each time you got away with it. Poisoning the Arl. Aiding Josephine to possess me. Killing the Guildersleeves. Murdering Leliana and nearly killing Cassandra. Causing death and suffering wherever you went. And now we find out a demon loves you as a son and has ensured his child was created by you and Leliana. Perhaps you really are a monster?’

Jowan shifted irritably by the fireplace, refusing to reply.

‘It’s funny, I could say I feel the same about you?’ observed Alistair coldly, coming to the mage’s defence. ‘You served as Commander of the Inquisition and vanquished the Red Templars from Thedas. But you also murdered Sierra. You’ve entertained good and evil, Cullen. Not all that Jowan has done has been evil. The past few years certainly have proven that.’

The mage appeared surprised that the king was coming to his defence. His sunken shoulders straightened a little as he turned back to Cullen.

‘Perhaps I have left a trail of misery as I went, but I seem to recall saving your life?’ added Jowan ‘You were most grateful of it at the time. Even asked for forgiveness in your sullied opinion of me? I thought you’d put this hatred of me behind you?’

‘Ophelia wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you.’ scorned Cullen ‘Why shouldn’t I hate you?!’

Jowan rolled his eyes, clearly growing impatient. ‘Must you be so insufferable at such a time?! How about for once you stop blaming everyone around you for your misfortunes? Sapientes did this. Not me. Not Alistair. And while we’re at it, I do not support anything that this demonic cretin has done over the span of my life. Call me paranoid but I suspect you’ll say otherwise soon enough? I’ve been played by a blasted demon since my birth, if anyone has the right to be angry at the moment it’s me.’. The mage pointed a sharp finger at the Commander. ‘But it’s not about me at present, is it? Or you. It’s about Ophelia. She’s over there dying and we must save her and her child. And I intend to make that deal with that demon and release Leliana to Sapientes. Alistair and I thought we’d do you the courtesy and let you be apart of this decision. We were trying to include you in a situation that involves us all. Return the favour and show us the same courtesy.’

‘You’re sending Leliana off to the demons? That’s your decision then.’ laughed Cullen ‘Do you realise what that means? She’ll never rest until your heads are on pikes. This Sapientes will bend to her every will and in time you will all be dead because that will be her strongest wish and this demon will be more than happy to oblige.’

‘Do you want Ophelia to die?’ frowned Alistair ‘There is no other option. It’s either Leliana or Ophelia.’

‘I would choose Ophelia over anyone.’ replied Cullen sternly ‘But if there is another way where we can get Leliana back, I would suggest that too. There is a great danger in making enemies with Leliana. Sapientes is a threat, but Leliana harnessed with demonic power is an enemy I would never want to confront. Her will would be utter chaos.’

The made shook his head. ‘Sapientes not getting what he wants is a scenario we cannot deal with at present. To start another war now after we’ve lost so many during the final days of the Inquisition? It would be a slaughter and that blood would be on our hands. No, you must give us time to plan our next move. You must agree to give Sapientes what he wants. You want Ophelia to live, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do.’ affirmed Cullen ‘Like I said, more than anything.’

‘Then I must perform the ritual immediately.’ announced Jowan ‘I fear the longer we wait the poorer our chances are of seeing Ophelia wake up’. Heading for the door, Jowan paused to sweep up some vials and papers from the altar table. ‘This is one ritual I shall insist on performing on my own. I shall transport myself to the Nephilim Realm and cast it there. I can do this from my own chambers in the castle, if Alistair can find me a room with a lock?’

Alistair nodded. ‘Of course. Ser Perth, kindly escort Jowan to the guest chambers.’

‘Shouldn’t someone come with you?’ frowned Michel ‘Leliana is not going to take this lying down. She is -’

‘- going to be furious with us no matter whether any of you are there to tell her or not.’ dismissed Jowan ‘No, you being there will not help. In fact, it will probably make this entire process more difficult. Of course perhaps Cullen may be the exception?.’

Cullen frowned. ‘No there’s nothing I could say to make any of this better. Besides, my place is here with Ophelia. Nothing could induce me to leave her side now.’

Leaving the room with Ser Perth, Jowan paused at the entrance. He looked worried, pursing his lips as if struggling to speak what was on his mind. ‘All of you should wait here and pray that Ophelia wakes soon. Let us hope we have not been tricked, for demons have a way of deceiving us even at the best of times. I hope to see you all again very soon, but if something should happen then…well..umm…’

Alistair nodded, placing a hand on his chest respectfully. ‘You have my word that I will take care of Valahorn. I swear it.’

The mage looked taken aback once more by the king’s kindness. He smiled sadly, as if accepting the offer with relief, before disappearing from the room.


	117. Hark the South Wind Cries

A line of blood drew a metallic tang in Jowan’s mouth and hastily he stopped himself from biting his lip, cursing quietly. It was an unfortunate habit he did without knowing he was doing until too late. Much like most of the problems he seemed to create in life.

‘Keep up.’ ordered Ser Perth sharply.

The knight was clearly irritated that he had been giving the task of escorting this particular mage to his chamber.

‘Your lodgings are at the end of this hall. Make sure you keep to them and do not wander about the keep. I’ll be keeping a very sharp eye on you, Jowan. His Majesty deserves no less than my two eyes fixated permanently on you at all times.’

Jowan scoffed at the comment. It was beneath him to respond to ill manners and yet some part of him dearly wished to set Ser Perth’s trousers on fire.

‘Your room.’ informed Ser Perth, stopping at a lone wooden door. ‘I shall be at the end of this hall standing guard. Should you need anything you know where to find me.’

‘I’ll need salt. A lot of it.’ informed Jowan ‘And privacy. As in no one should enter, not even you.’. The mage smirked, unable to resist. ‘Demons do not like uninvited company, just in case you were curious as to who I’ll be entertaining in there. Then again, you’ve entertained your fair share here already. It’ll be just like the good old days eh?’

Making the sign of the Chantry, Ser Perth threw him a disapproving frown. ‘Maker protect us from the darkness. And from you.’

Before Jowan had the pleasure of further taunting Ser Perth he turned abruptly and marched off.

****

It was eerily quiet at Redcliffe Castle that evening, even at such a late hour at night. The all too common sounds of a keep seemed dulled. Neighs from the horses in the stable, the howls of a hound begging for its supper and the hoot of a barn owl had all but ceased. Even the ruckus from the celebrating group of soldiers and knights in the courtyard had fizzled into nothing more than hushed whispers around fires near the lower gate. The night was still but far from peaceful.

Inside the castle, it was even quieter.

King Alistair, Cullen and Ser Michel remained in the castle, hopelessly bound to a place where they could do nothing to help but found themselves unable to leave. All they could do now was wait.

The three men were seated at the head of a large dining table in the empty hall of the castle. Hot bowls of stew had been served and remained mostly untouched as the table was set with all sorts of delicacies fit for a king. With weary minds the men quietly drank ale from fast emptying cups and stared blankly at the feast before them.

Michel pawed at his bread, dropping small bits onto the plate before him. The chevalier should have been famished after such a long journey but he only picked away with slight interest. He appeared consumed by his own inner demons and the frown lines on his usual porcelain forehead revealed his anguish.

‘For all my years lived I finally now see the truth. Love is but a fabrication weaved by poets.’ Michel observed, poking the bread disinterestedly. ‘It must be? For what I grew up hearing from the mouths of minstrels has never been the love that I knew. Never did the happiness stay long.’

Shaking his head in disbelief, Cullen shoved his plate aside. There was a time and place for this and the Commander knew that wasn’t now, professing disappointments in love before the king and himself.

‘Most Ferelden stories end in tragedy.’ informed Cullen, taking a large swig of ale. ‘Come drink, eat. You needn’t let your mind distract you with this.’

‘Love doesn’t end when tragedy arises, not in the tales at least? That is not what I meant.’ argued Michel, dismissing Cullen’s advice. ‘It should endure and yet never does? Do you not see?’

The Commander looked up impatiently at the chevalier, clearly well over his musings.

‘Why do this now?’ he chastised, his eyes silently indicating Alistair was beside them lest Michel had forgotten. ‘Save this for later. It does no good to sulk at such a time.’

Michel shifted in irritation, commencing to eat in silence.

‘Why silence the man when there’s a truth in what he says?’ observed Alistair darkly, causing his companions to look over in surprise. ‘Here I am about to bury my second wife, and perhaps I should have not hoped anything better?’

Cullen sighed in defeat, throwing his knife onto the table. ‘Not you too. Stop acting like a bunch of jilted milk maids on a summer’s eve. We can’t blame fate for this. We all have played a part in this. Even Ophelia. I won’t blubber in my bowl about how love has broken me. Not when I know we all swung the axe that inevitably smashed it to pieces.’

The king looked around the empty room dejectedly, oblivious to Cullen’s words. ‘Is this the hall that I shall keep? One deathly quiet and abandoned? No laughter and joy will fill it. Never really has it been that way since my father died. His memory is why the people rally me. His memory is why they see me fit to rule.’

The chevalier grabbed the jug and poured more ale into the kings cup.

‘Your cup will never run dry and this hall will be full of life once more.’ declared the Orlesian ‘Jowan will make the deal. Have hope, my king. Ophelia will wake up and all will be well. We must have faith that he will not fail us.’

Cullen groaned, roughly grabbing the jug off the Orlesian to pour into his own cup. ‘So we’ve gone from sulking to plain naivety now? Do you not see? There is no happy ending to any of this. Even if Ophelia survives, there is a blasted demon who has wedged himself into all our lives and the fate of Thedas hangs by a thread yet again. And you think Jowan can get us out of this mess? Jowan? Pfft, I’d more likely see a nug help us.’

Alistair appeared vexed at Cullen’s sentiments. ‘Jowan saved Kieran’s life. He saved yours. So yes, I believe we have cause to have faith in the man.’

‘Yes he did and forever I am grateful, as I imagine you are also.’ agreed Cullen ‘This situation is much more complicated I’m afraid. I don’t believe Jowan can resolve this. Not in the long run.’. The Commander sighed, taking a sip of ale. ‘Maker give us strength for I don’t know how much more any of us can take. Each and every turn awaits a greater threat and yet our numbers dwindle. What hope is there for Thedas?’

It was Alistiar’s turn to pick up the jug and he did so, standing up to pour into Cullen’s cup. A small gesture perhaps, but from him it was a kingly one.

‘Cullen we’ve all lived through a lot worse than this.’ informed Alistair ‘I’ve stood on the battleground where my brother was slain and hundreds of Ferelden men and women’s blood soaked the ground red. I’ve experience hopelessness. This is not it. You and I have survived a blight and it doesn’t get much worse than that. I know what you faced in the Kinloch Hold. I know what I faced in that place. Whatever Sapientes has in stall for us in the future, we can prepare and fight with the best advantage we have behind us. Experience.’

‘Forgive my lacklustre.’ apologised the Commander. Cullen raised his cup to the king and drank. ‘You’re right.’ he added ‘Although it’s going to take more than a few encampments of soldiers to fix this mess. We need a templar presence – and a strong one at that – that fills Ferelden and Thedas. Let the demons try and come. We’ll be here ready at the waiting.’

‘You keep forgetting I was a templar.’ reminded Alistair ‘I trained under the same principles that you did and realise the importance the Templar Order will play now. If Sapientes and whatever army he holds becomes an unleashed force in the future then you have my word – my kingdom will be ready.’. The king straightened up in his seat, looking determined as ever. ‘Cullen, the Templar Order is welcome back to Ferelden. The Aeonar is yours, as is the Kinloch Hold and Caer Bronach in Crestwick. I also give Harper’s Ford as a base for the Order. Fill them and train as many templars as you can recruit. You have my support and I will spare as many resources I can to the cause. May these outposts serve the Order well in days to come.’

Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Cullen was lost for words. He chuckled in surprise, as if for a moment he truly believed the man joking. Yet Alistair remained serious, and finally Cullen breathed out in relief

‘You have no idea what this means to the Order. I thank you.’ exclaimed the templar, full of gratitude. Cullen paused, looking at the king before him curiously. ‘You know, I’ve heard rumours that you once questioned your legacy in the past? That you never wished or wanted to be king, a role rightly yours. And I don’t know the reasons behind your doubts. Whether that was out of fear of failure or the fact that it was a huge responsibility? Nevertheless I'm not certain you realised that your actions had already revealed that you were the best choice for the King of Ferelden. You saved Ferelden from a Blight, an impossible task in and of itself. You rallied the Grey Wardens and led them on. You united elves, dwarves and men. You offered your aid to the Inquisition and indeed to the Templar Order when we had great need of a place to go. The way you responded to the darkspawn in Ostagar just now also shows the strength of character we need in a ruler. You crushed your enemies swiftly, before they had a chance to spread. And so I say now - have faith. You were the only ruler we could have hoped for at a time like this.’

Alistair threw the templar a nod of thanks, as if he appreciated the sentiment but it mattered little to him at present.

‘A good ruler perhaps but a terrible man.’ observed Alistair darkly ‘I’d barely felt the crown on my head and I was urged by my uncles to remarry. So soon after the death of Sierra and they’re already measuring the wedding robes. And to whom? A woman I only saw as a rather powerful chess piece. Any honorable man would have said no.’. Alistair laughed sadly, shaking his head in disbelief as he took a swig of ale. ‘I went along with it. Ophelia was engaged to you Cullen and yet I hated you that much that I needed my fiancé to be her. You’re right, I wanted you to feel pain. I hated you that much.’

Cullen nodded solemnly. ‘I know Alistiar.’

‘No one else but Ophelia would have done,’ murmured Alistair ‘but it wasn’t out of desire or love that I sought her out. It was purely out of power and revenge. So now I have had my revenge, and produced a child with your betrothed. And do I feel better for it? No, I feel worse. Much worse.’

The Commander rubbed his neck, easing the knots that were forming as he endured this conversation with as much patience as he could muster. ‘I feel worse also.’ he admitted ‘I should never have killed Sierra. Although I knew she was a great threat the moment I realised she was trying to implicate the Wardens in the murder of Leliana and Cassandra. She wanted a war with the Chantry. Jowan learned of that sinister plan from Sierra herself. She wanted chaos. Then there was the blood magic. You said it yourself, she was in liason with the maleficar Charles Quillor. Had she lived and you ascended the throne with her at your side, all the worse. No matter, I still feel terrible remorse for what I did.’

Alistair looked furiously at Cullen but stopped himself before he could explode into a flurry of insults. His face changed into sadness, turning to pile his plate with food as a distraction.

‘It was evident Sierra hid much of her life away from me.’ he observed quietly ‘More than I would have expected, being her husband. I knew she practiced blood magic and believed it was nothing more than a blemish on an otherwise impeccable character. How wrong was I in the end? Perhaps I'll never know.’. The king knocked back his drink, growing more furious as he contemplated it. ‘You robbed me the chance of getting an explanation from her. You robbed yourself of a life with Ophelia. All that remains now is a crumbling union between Ophelia and I with an unborn child on the way. Tell me, who wins out of all of this? How did it come to this?’

Cullen waved off the comment with a grumble. Taking a large gulp of ale, he finally looked to his king. ‘Well you said it yourself - you knew Ophelia was a terrible choice for a wife. You can’t act surprised that things turned out like this?’. Pointing his cup at the chevalier, Cullen raised his brow. ‘You knew Michel had been courting her. As did I. They were a bloody couple at the ceremony when you were crowned. Probably shouldn’t have dangled that carrot in front of her at Denerim Palace. Blindly we go into these things hoping it won’t matter in days to come but often they do.’

‘Now I’m a carrot?’ remarked Michel in displeasure. ‘Many thanks.’

‘I can think of several better names if you’d prefer those?’ responded Cullen.

‘Never mind.’ murmured Michel ’It appears we were all deceived in the end.’

The Commander scoffed at the comment. ‘Deceived? No, you knew what you were playing with. As they say, easy come easy go.’

‘Nice to see you hold such a high opinion of your fiancé.’ scorned Michel.

‘Ex-fiance.’ corrected Cullen dryly.

The chevalier rolled his eyes at the comment and commenced eating his soup.

‘‘Perhaps I can’t fix my failed marriage but I pray we can save Ophelia.’ added Alistair hopefully ‘Jowan will fix this. I have faith in him.’

‘Jowan is the reason we are in this mess.’ replied Cullen sternly ‘Have all the faith you want, but realise that this mage you’ve taken a shining to is a maleficar that a damn powerful demon has also taken a shining to. Unnerving thought, isn’t it?’

Alistair threw a sharp look to Cullen. ‘You imprisoned Leliana. The demon wanted her and would not have done any of this to Ophelia and my child had you left Leliana alone.’

Cullen paused, a frown forming on his brow. With a heavy sigh he appeared to agree. ‘You’re right. Ophelia would not be lying over there if it were not for me. And Jowan.’

Michel tapped his lip in contemplation, almost unaware of his companions bickering as he pondered the situation. ‘Jowan has agreed to open the cave of the Nephilim Realm, and I believe in my heart that he will. From that point on there is no reassurances of what will happen. Demons lack honour. In the Academie we are taught there is little hope for any who do not possess honour.’

The chevalier looked to each of the men, as if he had come to a decision.

‘I shall ride out to Orlais tomorrow.’ Michel informed ‘Either way, we will know Ophelia’s fate soon enough. There is no reason for me to stay here any longer, so I shall return to Winter Palace.’

Cullen raised his brows, surprised at the chevalier’s intentions.

‘You don’t wish to wait and see if Ophelia wakes? And if she does? After you’ve come all this way do you not wish to even speak to her?’

The Orlesian shook his head, seemingly resided to his decisiion. ‘There are greater issues to contend with now. I must hurry back to Orlais and inform Gaspard of the terrible circumstances we face. If Sapientes poses a threat in the future, Orlais must be warned.’. The chevalier pursed his lips. ‘As for Ophelia? After everything that has happened I would not know what to say to her anymore. Truly I would not know what to believe if I did speak to her. Our love was strong and would have remained so if we had found a way to keep the world away. My love was strong. She however…’.

He pursed his lips once more, as if struggling to say what he felt. His blue eyes lowered and he recommenced eating. ‘There are more important matters to address now.’ he added quietly.

Cullen sighed, drinking deeply as if toasting to the sentiment. ‘Yes I know what you mean.

‘You were right about me,’ continued Michel, pointing his soup spoon into the air. ‘I am a knight that lives for the code of courtly love. Perhaps one calls such things the heart of a chevalier? The heart that longs for a love that is pure, passionate and true. And I thought I had found it. I betrayed my friend for it. And my king for it.’.

Alistair and Cullen looked up in surprise, and Michel threw them both a terribly sad look. His hand lifted to his chest and he bowed towards Alistair.

‘I’m truly sorry, my king.’

Michel’s sad blue eyes then lifted to Cullen.

‘And to you, my Commander, I should never have done what I did.’

The king shifted uneasily, nodding at the Chevalier in acknowledgement. Cullen sighed.

‘Who out of us three can stand here and claim we’ve been in the right?’ Alistair muttered ‘We’ve all acted wrong in our own ways. Only the Maker can forgive us. But for now? Well, do not let the past interfere with the present. Stay as long as you want Michel.’. Alistair hesitated, throwing down the bread onto his plate as he looked at the templar. ‘Cullen, I know Ophelia would want you here. For her sake you should stay as long as this draws out. For better or for worse.’

While Cullen nodded gruffly in thanks, it was apparent Michel felt otherwise.

‘My presence does not benefit anyone here.’ the chevalier professed solemnly ‘I do not say that with bitterness in my heart, only to acknowledge a truth. Perhaps it took until now, for me to sit in this room with you both to see that I have always been nothing more than a temptation for her. Nothing of substance. Like eating a mille-feuille between breakfast and lunch.’

‘A mill what now?’ grinned Cullen, causing Alistair to silently conceal a smile of his own.

The chevalier looked up to the heavens, lost in his own thoughts as he continued his declaration. ‘Between a king and a templar who fight for her as you both do I am no match. There are some battles already lost before they have even begun and this, I fear, is one of them. So I will return to my duties at the Acadmie de Chevaliers and throw myself into a life of service for my Emperor Gaspard.’

Cullen shrugged and Alistair remained quiet. Both men appeared indifferent to whether he went or not.

Michel frowned, as if expecting a better response. ‘You both may fight over Ophelia but if either of you have any decency you’ll respect her wishes and let her live out the rest of her life on her own terms. Alistiar, if that means letting go of your queen then do so. Kings remarry all the time, it is not the end of the world. And Cullen, if that means letting go of your most dearest love then let it be. Some people are just not meant to be together. And if she decides neither of you are to be in her future and wishes to leave, then please I implore you both to let her be. ’

The chevalier stood up tiredly, his blue eyes sleepy and lids ever so sightly lowered. ‘Exhaustion overwhelms me. I will rest now and when I wake I shall leave for Orlais. Duty calls to the west and no longer can I ignore it. Tell Ophelia she always has my eternal friendship.’

‘We do not know that she will survive.’ muttered Cullen.

Michel threw him a reassuring smile. ‘I have hope.’

With a polite bow to Alistair, Michel paid his final respects to the man he had pledged allegiance. His blonde hair spilled over as he lowered his head, yet when he arose there was a glimmer of hope in his blue eyes once more.


	118. Fireside Conversations

A spark of white light filled the cave with a mighty boom, shaking the very foundations of stone. In her desperation she grabbed a silver candle stick with candle still burning and gripped it with white knuckles.

‘WHO IS THERE? SHOW YOURSELF!’ demanded Leliana ‘I won’t go down without a fight, be you spirit or mortal. Come at me and I will show you who is worthy.’

She was ready. No longer fearing the unknown, Leliana had found herself once more. Her time in the cave had shown her that fear was not going to help her escape. And she would escape, there was no other option.

As her green eyes adjusted to the brightness that had sparked from the darkness, she could see a blurry outline two figures stepping out from the light of the strange mirror that resided in Jowan’s study.

Leliana crept towards them slowly, her voicing growing cold as she recognised the first person.

‘Jowan.’ she observed angrily.

The mage looked concerned as he ran his eyes around the room. He appeared to be eyeing the many books strewn on the ground with pages ripped out. Treasured furnishings that perhaps offered him some comfort when alone in the world now were roughly pushed over like discarded rubbish. Carpets were rolled across the floor, bookshelves knocked over, chairs flung to their sides and cupboards opened and stripped bare. It seemed Leliana had been at work finding any means to escape her prison and had left a trail of destruction behind her.

‘Your mouse hole tucked away in a labyrinth of shadows.’ whispered the second figure to emerge from the mirror, a profound hint of wonder in his voice. ‘Noctis, this place oozes your charm.’

‘Although it's not quite as I left it.’ observed Jowan dryly. His dark eyes turned to Leliana, but his expression grew soft as he beheld the woman before him.

‘Leliana-’ begun Jowan delicately, however he was cut off immediately.

‘Who is that?!’ demanded Leliana, pointing to the elf standing beside Jowan. ‘Another one of your friends or another prisoner to add to your collection?’

The elven demon smiled at Leliana. With one foot forward and one hand outstretched to the side, he bowed lowly. 

‘I am your humble servant. You reside in the lands of the Nephilim Realm. The lands of my master, Sapientes. He welcomes you.’ 

Eyes glowing red, it was apparent who this creature was. Leliana turned to Jowan in disgust.

‘A demon.’ observed Leliana with a scowl ‘Really Jowan?’

‘It’s complicated.’ replied the mage.

Silently under this breath he muttered several strange words, flinging his hand to the cold fireplace. Suddenly a blaze of flames erupted from out of no where, lighting the pit with a warm glow. Dragging several of his favourite chairs closer to the fireplace, the mage patted the seats.

‘Please sit, we have much to discuss.’ he implored.

Balking at the suggestion, Leliana raised the candelabra higher.

‘You want to us to have a cozy chat by the fire with a demon?!’ she seethed ‘Have you gone mad? Or are you possessed? The Jowan I know would not entertain demons like this.’

Concealing the slightest of smiles, the demon retreated back to the mirror.

‘Perhaps it’s best if I wait here while you both talk?’ suggested the demon ‘I would not wish to dampen the atmosphere.’

Jowan frowned, turning back to Leliana. ‘Rest assured I’m not possessed. We have learned many things in the last few days. I must tell you all and there isn’t much time.’

The woman snorted at the mage. ‘Really? I seem to have all the time in the world. What’s the rush?’

The mage nudged his head subtly, indicating the demon waiting behind him as he glared at her with wide eyes. ‘Please Leliana, you need to hear me out.’

‘Fine,’ replied Leliana suspiciously, roughly placing the candlestick down with a thud. ‘You’ve got my attention. Now talk.’’

~~~~~~

Her shrill laugh echoed in the cave. It was a laugh of disbelief. The fire had died down to glowing embers as the mage finished the long list of events that had occurred. He left nothing out. Everything that had occurred from the moment Cullen and he had decided to trap Leliana in the cave, to the present where Ophelia lay in her deathbed, was relayed. And now there was nothing else for Leliana to do - aside from laugh at the ridiculous story.

Jowan remained silent, waiting for Leliana to process what he had told her. No doubt she had to be in shock. To her credit she had surprised him and listened intently as the mage explained about Sapientes and his involvement in deceiving her with visions she believed were from the Maker. She never said a word when Jowan explained how Sapientes had planned Jowan and Leliana to have a child, and that Valahorn was infact the son of a demon. Leliana even remained quiet when she learnt of what had happened to Ophelia and all that had occurred in Ferelden. Indeed, Leliana appeared to have taken in every word with a methodical analysis, her mind silently ticking away to all that was being revealed. It was only at the end of Jowan’s speech that she responded – by laughing uncontrollably.

Sweeping back her fiery hair, she looked Jowan square in the eye.

‘What utter drivel.’ she observed flatly ‘Valahorn is not the spawn of some demon! Whatever deal you have struck up with that creature over there is not going to work on me. So let us be clear – nothing either of you say or do will convince me of this lie.’

‘You are to come and meet my Master. You will see he is no lie.’ informed the demon calmly.

Leliana scoffed at the demon. ‘Oh I have no doubt there is a demon out there called Sapientes who wishes to have me to himself. I’m the Divine, what better trophy for some evil spirit of the fade? Nothing that he or you can say will sway me from my faith in the Maker’s will. You can try and insert yourself into my past but the fact is you had nothing to do with any of this. It’s a poor story you’ve made up.’

‘Leliana I knew this demon from years ago.’ urged Jowan ‘He taught me most of the magic I know. My abilities to wield such incredible magic come from him. How would Sapientes know everything that he does, to the point of knowing exactly what the Maker has been communicating with you all these years? How does he know the secrets of my life? I don’t wish this to be true but you must admit there’s an awful lot that he knows.’

With a reproachful look, Leliana shook her head at the man. ‘Well then you out of everyone should know demons have the ability of reading one’s mind. This is nothing more than a parlour trick. He has accessed our memories and now pretends they are the evidence of Sapientes involvement? No doubt it’s a well weaved story, but that’s all it is. It is ridiculous. The things we have endured, you and me both Jowan, have been by the Maker’s holy hand. That is sacred. Do not fall for the lies this woeful demon tells. He is after one thing only - he Maker’s Chosen. Valahorn is special and they wish to have him. His value is worth more to these foul creatures than anything they could hope for.’

‘Yet we did not bargain the Queen’s life for Valahorn.’ observed the demon ‘We bargained for you.’

Leliana rolled her eyes. ‘Please. You knew Jowan would never make a deal to hand over his own son to a bunch of demons, even if that meant Ophelia would die. No, the only way for you to secure your interest and access to Valahorn was to go for the second best thing. Valahorn’s mother. Now you have secured your interest, am I right? Jowan keeps Valahorn for now and soon this child will grow to be a powerful man. And that man will know who has his mother and whose loyalties he should swear. You seek Valahorn to be a puppet to serve to your will. To pull the strings that tie him and I together.’. Leliana spat at the ground towards the demon. ‘Your plan is weak and will fail.’. Turning back to Jowan, she appeared furious now. ‘You need to be sharper than this now you are a father! Valahorn must be protected. Be it mortal or spirit, demon, devil or faerie – they will seek to deceive you by any means possible. You cannot fall for every tale they present, ever so slyly pulling on your heart strings by weaving your pitiful tales into their stories! Or perhaps you were offered something else in return for this?’

Furiously she cast her attention to the ever so patient elven demon waiting by the mirror. ‘What did you promise him to spin this lie to me? Power?’

Jowan rubbed his eyes in frustration. ‘I assure you he has offered me nothing except a rather large headache.’

‘Liar.’ laughed Leliana ‘I’m the bargaining chip for Ophelia and her child aren’t I? I bet Cullen felt like the piece of horse shit that he is when he learnt his beloved was expecting Alistair’s child.’. Leliana grinned, looking positively amused. ‘I wish I could have seen it. Who’d have thought I’d laugh again but you both have brought me such entertainment. I should be thankful for that at the very least.’

‘It’s a mercy Ophelia’s could survive this.’ muttered Jowan ‘To see what has happened to her right under our noses. She should rightly be dead but lingers at the will of Sapientes.’

‘The Maker show’s mercy to his flock, not demons.’ lectured Leliana ‘This master causes disease and then takes it away. That is not mercy.’

‘The Maker never showed you mercy as Master did.’ argued the elf demon. ‘Master answered your prayers from the day you saw the white rose in the courtyard. That was Sapientes. The Maker you believe in ignores everything and everyone - for he is a deity that does not care for mortals. He never has, despite the pitiful way your kind builds him up through song and verse. He left the Golden City and abandoned you all.’

‘More lies.’ observed Leliana dryly.

‘The Golden city is nothing but an ashen place of ruins.’ continued the demon ‘It has been so since they day we entered in it, but never by our hands did the place become so. It had long been abandoned and you will see this soon enough. My Master will show you.’

‘So Sapientes wants to restore the Golden City and sit on the throne?’ mused Leliana. ‘Do you realise how foolish that sounds? One does not simply become the Maker because they sit on his throne. Sapientes wants Valahorn to rule Thedas? For what purpose? Sapientes wants me as his bride? Why bother now I have done his bidding and given him an heir? I won’t collaborate with him so why not kill me now? There is no great affection between your Master and I so save me that lie – we know that is all it is.’

‘Questions my Master shall answer himself.’ replied the demon calmly.

‘So am I correct then to believe that your master will take Valahorn instead of myself if I don’t come to him now?’ she asked directly. Rising her brows, the woman waited for a reply like an impatient headmistress.

The demon nodded. ‘That is correct.’

Leliana nodded. ‘Well, away we go then’

She turned to Jowan, her face determined as she embraced the man. Hands wrapped around his neck, her lips went close to his ear. ‘Take care of our son.’ she urged ‘This is the only way he will be safe. You must protect him at all costs, especially from these demons. They are dangerous Jowan, never forget that. They will stop at nothing to have him. You must not let this happen. Use your powers, all of them, to protect him and spare no cost to make sure he is always safe. Raise him to know these are his enemies.’

Jowan’s heart dropped as he felt the weight of guilt of hearing a mother’s plea. He was the reason their son would grow never to know his mother. And despite all that Leliana had done, she now willingly agreed to go with these demons without a moments hesitation. She did not know what horrors awaited her but she was willing to face whatever may come so her son was safe. Jowan had been wrong about her. Leliana had changed.

The mage held Leliana tight, his head resting in the neck of red hair.

‘I will protect our son.’ he whispered ‘And I will find a way to save you. I swear this Leliana. I will find a way to bring you back to Valahorn and I.’

Placing a kiss on his forehead, Leliana clasped his cheeks tight. Her eyes were red but she revealed a smile as she nodded. Wiping her eyes, she turned to the demon.

‘Well come on then?’ she ordered sharply to the demon ‘What are you waiting for? Yuletide? Let’s go!’

Eyebrows lifted in surprise, the demon turned to Jowan. Extending a hand to the magical seal at the base of the cave, the elf waited patiently for the mage to perform his end of the bargain.

‘If you will?’ requested the demon.

Jowan clenched his jaw as he marched over. The purple boundary to the caves entrance fizzled into nothing as the seal melted away under Jowan’s whispered enchantment. He turned to see the demon and Leliana pass quickly, unwilling to waste any more time.

‘Don’t forget,’ called out Jowan ‘you agreed to let Ophelia live. And live unscathed by whatever it is you have done.’

‘All in good time.’ called back the demon ‘Until we meet again, Noctis.'


	119. Jilted

_The north wind calls to victory_

_It echoes in the field_

_The queen’s sword lies now broken_

_And beyond her bloodied shield._

_ _

‘Wait! Did you hear that?’

Chairs scraped hastily across the floorboards and the shuffling of boots filled my ears.

‘Opehlia? Ophelia! Look there - her eyes are stirring! Maker be praised.’

Muffled sounds of anxious chatter greeted me as I opened my eyes, finally stirring from what felt the longest sleep of my life. Strange dreams had plagued me – so real that I felt confused as to where I was at first. For so long now I’d been trapped in a fog, unable to leave and yet voices echoed through the sky. I was certain I was in Skyhold but could never be sure as the keep was clouded by a strange gray mist. So heavy was this cloud I was unable to see anything before me as I shuffled around the barren stronghold. Voices that were familiar sometimes echoed from afar. And then there were some unfamiliar ones that sent shivers down my spine.

Now two familiar faces leant over me, whispering to one another to give me space. Squinting from the light in the room, I rubbed my face and tried to sit up. I felt the strong arms of someone ease me up whilst another gently held a cup to my lips.

‘Here, some water. Drink it, Maker’s knows you’ve had none for days.’ encouraged a voice that I knew all too well.

‘Still barking orders I see?’ I murmured with a grin, looking up to see Cullen standing beside me. 

Cullen looking relieved. He smiled, holding the cup steadily as I drank the cool water. Water had never tasted as good as that first sip.

‘Still talking back I see?’ quipped the Commander ‘Didn’t think I’d ever say I was glad you were doing that.’

Nodding in thanks, I grabbed the cup shakily. ‘I live to surprise.’.

I frowned, wondering why Cullen was in my room.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘You were unwell.’ informed Cullen gently ‘Do you remember anything about what happened?’

Shaking my head, I honestly couldn’t say.

‘Sorry my mind’s a little foggy.’

‘Never mind about that for now’ remarked Cullen,throwing a strained smile. ‘How are you feeling right now?’

‘Surprisingly well.’ I yawned ‘Although I’m certain I’ve overslept. How long have I been sleeping? I must have overslept.’

My attention was distracted from the Commander as something stirred in the corner of the room. A silent man, looking more like a worried prisoner headed to the gibbet rather than a king. Suddenly I felt myself grow tense for the moment I saw Alistair everything that had occurred came flashing back to me.

‘Cullen you need to get me out of here.’ I warned, trying to get out of the tangle of sheets. ‘I’ve been trapped here for months. Keep him away, no matter what he’s told you it’s all lies. That devil Eamon treated me like a dog. Locked me in a another room here no bigger than a pantry and threw away the key. You have no idea.’

The Commander looked over to the king, as if waiting for him to say something.

‘My dear, I’m so sorry.’ begun Alistair quietly, inching forward with hands raised. ‘I’m so glad you’re awake. We were certain you would not make it.’

‘Eamon kept me locked away in that tiny room for weeks.’ I recounted angrily ‘I fell ill and no one came. For weeks.’ 

‘Maybe we should wait before having this discussion.’ interjected Cullen ‘You need rest and this isn’t helping.’

Raising a brow, I turned back to Alistair. ‘Well?’

‘I never knew about any of it until I returned here to find you.’ replied Alistair defensively ‘You blame me for another man’s actions that I too condone.’

Looking to the Commander, I shook my head. ‘I’ve rested enough, believe me. I’d rather face the coldest night out there than spend another second in this place.’

‘Please Ophelia, you need to rest.’ protested Alistair ‘The last time we spoke you collapsed and didn’t wake for near on five days. You’re recovering from something that should have rightly killed you. You need time.’

‘Concerned are you?’ I replied coldly ‘Putting on a nice show for Cullen here no doubt. I dare say the moment he’s gone I’ll be back in that closet to rot. Well I’m sorry, I can’t take that chance.’

Easing myself from the bed, I felt Cullen’s arm wrap around my waist.

‘He’s right, you know?’ whispered Cullen, raising an eyebrow. ‘Haven’t eaten or drank for days, probably more considering the state you’ve been in. On the brink of death too. You really think riding out into the cold night is a responsible thing to do right now?’

‘Not really, but I couldn’t think of a better thing to do right at this moment.’ I replied, shuffling my way to the door. ‘I’ve endured a year and a half of being kept a prisoner in Ferelden. Enough is enough.’. Pausing for a moment, I felt the room spin terribly. Stars flashed across my sight. I knew I wasn’t fit to be walking about so soon.

‘My love I can’t let you leave in this state.’ Alistair implored ‘You must recover.’

‘I’m not your love.’ I replied flatly ‘And you cant keep me here against my will. You tried that and I won’t let it happen again.’

Cullen turned to the window, looking troubled as he gazed out to the courtyard. ‘You need to tell her.’ he informed gruffly ‘Better she hear it from you now.’

The king shook his head. ‘She’s not ready for that. Especially not now.’

‘It’s makes no difference if she’s ready to hear it.’ argued Cullen. The templar sighed, unable or unwilling to say more. His amber eyes refused to hold mine as they looked out the window. ‘Ophelia, your husband has something to tell you.’ informed Cullen.

Was it my imagination or was there resentment in Cullen’s voice?

Alistair frowned, appearing unwilling to say anything. ‘This is not a good idea.’ 

‘Just tell me.’ I sighed, growing tired of them speaking in riddles.

Alistair straightened up, taking a deep breath before hesitating. He looked to me, then to Cullen, and then back to me once more.

‘Okay. Well, the thing is…’ begun Alistair. He fidgeted with the black cord of his jerkin, rolling it in his fingers as he walked closer. ‘You’re…um. Well, you’re…with child. Uh, my child it would seem. It’s been confirmed by the castle physician.’. Alistair uncertainly came forward and drew my hand in his. ‘You have made me the happiest man on Thedas, and now for this bless-‘

Dropping his hand, I felt dismay.

‘No.’ I remarked sadly ‘Say it’s not true?’

The room began to spin out of control once more as large hands whisked me off my feet. A whirlwind of fog clouded my mind and everything went dark.

``````````````

Woof, woof, woof!

The sound of mabari’s barking outside and the warm morning sunlight woke me that morning. In the same quiet room that looked onto the lower garden courtyard of the keep, I awoke alone this time. It was a guest room, reserved for nobles that visited the castle.

Feeling a great deal better than the last time I had opened my eyes, I sat up and hungrily ate and dank from the tray beside my bed. Cold tea and oat bread, slightly cold chicken broth and a bowl of stewed apples. The best meal I’d ever eaten.

After my breakfast I gathered the cloth from my lap, only to catch myself freezing as I looked down at my waist.

Had I dreamt it?

Shit….

Cursing under my breath, I knew it were true. You didn’t have to be castle physician to figure that out. Simple dates were enough and months without need for courses meant the obvious. Months prevented from consuming the Pennyroyal root that could have avoided this. I was with child. I had known I was late but willed the terrible thought away hoping it was just a result of the stress of being locked up in Redcliffe Castle.

Knock, knock, knock……knock knock…..knock, knock, knock, knock

A muffled voice from behind the door was that of Cullen. I could recognise his serious tone anywhere.

‘Ophelia can I come in? I must speak with you.’

‘Well this day keeps on getting better.’ I silently cursed, making my way to the door. ‘YES, COMING.’

As the door opened the Commander peered around the frame, throwing me a smile as he entered.

‘You’re alive then?’ he remarked, an amused smirk on his face ‘You fainted before and then Alistair looked like was going to faint. Disaster eh? But all's good and you’re awake now and looking a better colour I'd wager. I’d put it down to lack of food.’. Looking down at the empty tray, he added mischievously ‘See that’s not an issue now. You’re eating like an elephant again.’

Laughing at the comment, I commenced searching the cupboards for my clothing. ‘There’s that wit I love about y-‘. Shaking my head, I grew silent for a moment. Rubbing my eyes, I attempted to ward the headache forming. ‘Sorry, it’s been one of those days. You know the ones? Where you’ve been unconscious for days and about to die only for you to wake up and feel like death anyway. The irony, eh?’

Sitting at the end of the bed, Cullen chuckled. ‘Oh I don’t know, I think I’ve drank enough house ale at Varric’s establishment to know that feeling.’

‘Fair point.’ I chuckled. Looking over to the templar, I wished I could embrace him. Feel his strength wrapped around me and his beating heart close to mine. ‘I miss Skyhold. Feels like I’ve left home for too long.’

The Commander scoffed, crossing his arms at the comment. ‘That’s because you’ve never known a home. They’re a far deal nicer than a drafty keep on the top of the Frostback Mountains.’. His amber eyes ran over the room. ‘You might make a good one here at Redcliffe Castle and realise in later days how lucky you are.’

Typical Cullen, always skirting around the point I was trying to make. Skyhold felt like a home because it was filled with the people I cared for. People like himself.

‘It’s the people that make a home Cullen, not the fancy surroundings.’

Tapping the silver etching of his gauntlet, the templar’s demeanor grew reserved all of a sudden.

‘Are you well enough to speak a while?’ he inquired ‘Or should I come back a little later?’

Speak about what I wondered? The child I was expecting? The betrayal Cullen must have been feeling? The fact that I woke up alive but most likely was dead in his heart now the truth was known?

'What is it?' I inquired.

‘Ophelia a lot has happened and you must hear the entire story from me. Not because Alistair did not want to tell you himself but moreso that I requested I could speak to you first. Much that I have to tell you involves me.’. Cullen inforemd, clenching his jaw as he added ‘And Jowan. So please, if you could just hear me out?’

Taking a seat by the window, Cullen began to tell the tale of all that had occurred and I listened on, my eyes and mouth growing wider and wider at every terrible twist and turn…..

~~~~~~~~

It was late mid morning when Cullen had finally finished telling me what had happened while I had been locked away in Ferelden. He looked sombre at moments, so sombre it broke my heart. At other times he appeared so furious he could barely speak the words. After moments of silence I finally found the courage to say what I’d felt since the beginning of the story.

‘Cullen I’m so sorry about Valahorn.’

The Commander looked up curiously and yet moments later he faced formed into a cold glare.

‘He’s fine, Varric is with him in a safe place far away from all of this. Jowan travels now to retrieve him. I dare say you’ll meet them soon enough.’

I shook my head, knowing that was not what I meant. ‘No, I’m sorry that you had to find out you were not his father. And that Leliana indeed was pregnant with your child but she…well, she chose not to keep it. After everything that has happened, you brought Valahorn into this world and raised him as your own. You believed he was your blood. And now-‘

‘Valahorn is Jowan’s son.’ replied Cullen bluntly ‘That is a fact and there is nothing more to be said on the matter. I’m fine.’

It was obvious that he wasn’t. Some feelings were too deep to be concealed by mere words of reassurance. I knew Cullen too well to know he was close to being fine with any of this.

Turning to me, Cullen’s amber eyes locked on to mine.

‘So what will you do now?’ he asked sternly ‘You’re expecting a child with the King of Ferelden. If we’re to believe this demon, you’ll have a daughter by the end of this year. She’s not safe out there in Thedas, no more than Valahorn or Keirin. They’re apart of an important vision, be it created by Sapientes or the Maker. No matter, someone considers them of great value in years to come. They all must be protected and kept from the influence of darker forces.’

‘Your point?’ I asked starkly. Naturally I knew what he was suggesting and it annoyed me greatly.

‘You know my point.’ replied Cullen ‘The safest place for you and your daughter will be in Denerim Palace, under the protection of the Ferelden royal guard. And that is what Alistair and I agree is the safest place for Valahorn and Keirin to be raised also. Any other plan would be putting your child at risk. That is your responsibility now.’

Silently cursing the man, I stood up from the bed and began to search the room for fresh clothing.

‘Thank you for always saying the most patronising thing possible at the worst possible time.’ I muttered ‘I’m quite capable of making decisions when it comes to my child and my responsibilities.’

‘This is no joke Ophelia.’ growled Cullen ‘You can’t just run off to Kirkwall and raise a daughter in The Hanged Man.’

Pulling a fresh tunic over my head, I concealed my disgust at his comment. ‘What do you care? Why have you come here to lecture me about parental duties?’

‘I care because I care.’ replied Cullen darkly ‘That is the only reason I am here.’

Turning to him, I felt his anger pouring out. He was hurt and so was I. He had a reason to be. I didn’t.

‘I’m sorry.’

Gruffly he nodded. ‘I know.’

‘No you don’t.’ I continued ‘How could you? If I could go back to the beginning I would have changed so much.’

‘You weren’t to know Sapientes would do this.’ dismissed Cullen.

My hands reached out to touch him but I couldn’t. Not after everything. His silhouette by the window was so strong – plated in armour and sword by his side. I didn’t feel like I could reach him even if I tried. Cullen had turned into something else now. Something cold and unfamiliar that only time creates between two jilted lovers.

‘No I mean I’m sorry about this.’. Placing my hand on my stomache, I shook my head. ‘I never wanted his child. Never.’

‘And yet here you are.’ added Cullen cynically.

‘You yourself were in a similar situation not long ago.’ I added in annoyance ‘Try not to judge so harshly.’

The Commander defensively crossed his arms. ‘And I decided to do what was right and raise that child. You might learn a thing or two about that. Raise this child with Alistair and learn to get along with your husband.’

Incensed by his comment, I scowled at the man. ‘You mean the husband you and the Inquisition Council chose for me? You realise I lay with Alistair twice for the entire time we were married? The first time was just before you and I spoke that night at Skyhold. He didn’t force me, I wanted to. It wasn’t out of love, it-‘

Cullen turned angrily to me. ‘I didn’t ask for an explanation. This is not something I need to know’

Shaking my head, I continued. ‘Yes you do. The second time was the day after in a carriage to Redcliffe. I didn’t want it to happen but it did. That’s the only occasions I was with him.’

‘Enough, I beg you.’ groaned Cullen, drawing his hands to his sandy locks. ‘You don’t see me listing the time and dates of when I fucked Leliana at Skyhold while you were in Denerim. Of course it happened. Some things don’t need to be said.’

Shaking my head, I began to laugh at how ridiculous I did sound. ‘Of course you don’t need to know the details.’ I muttered. ‘This is madness. I just need you to know I don’t feel for Alistair what I feel for you. I love you.’

Cullen turned to me furiously. ‘I don’t give a fuck who you love.’ he replied ‘But if we’re being perfectly honest you don’t seem capable of it. You jump from man to man and profess your adoration. No wonder you and the chevalier got along like a house on fire.’. Angrily he banged the windowpane with his fist. ‘Do you realise how ridiculous it was to sit with Alistair and Michel at your deathbed? Three men competing for your affection like any of us actually mattered to you?’

‘What did you expect me to do when you and the Inquisition council essentially bartered me off to the Ferelden kingdom?’ I replied icily ‘You forced me to marry another man and then act slighted when you realised there would be expectations attached to that marriage? Or that me spending so much time with someone who I was married with wouldn’t lead to possibly fucking them?’

Cullen cursed silently under breath.

‘When I was with you I was with you. Can you say the same thing?’ I muttered, turning to pull on my boots. ‘Oh that’s right, when we were together you felt it was completely fine to fuck Leliana and not tell me. You’re right, none of this matters now but I didn’t want you thinking I was in love with either them. I wasn’t. I just wanted to forget about you. And I’ve not acted in a way to think it would ever be enough for you now, but I still wanted you to know.’

Lacing the strings tightly, I made my way for the door. Pausing at the handle, I turned back to the Commander.

‘Where will go you now?’ I asked quietly.

With a firm jaw Cullen made his way to me, towering over me as I waited for his response.

‘My duty lies with the Order.’ he replied stoutly ‘Rylen has offered to re-instate my Knight Commander position and I intend to take it. He will lead our brothers and sisters while I set out to secure our new outposts in Ferelden.’

Cullen's honeyed eyes looked down at me, sadly, pausing to take me in.

‘What of you?’ he inquired ‘What will you do?’

Outstretching my hand, I took his in a formal shake.

‘Good luck Cullen with the Templar Order and in everything in your life. I truly hope you find happiness and success in both.’

Cullen placed a hand on mine, nodding silently. ‘Thank you Ophelia, I wish the same for you.’. He frowned, looking intently at me. ‘You’ve not said what you are going to do?’

‘What else is there to do? My duty is to Ferelden.’ I replied flatly.

Throwing him a nod I departed the room, knowing he would never follow after me again.

~~~~~~~~

The soft tread of sandy soil and dry branches crunched under Jowan’s boots as he made his way towards the cottage. His heart beat painfully despite walking a slow relaxed pace.

‘Demons and pacts, no worries. A trip into the fade? Sure why not! Casting blood magic and risking everything on whim. Oh, I don’t mind. But a child sends me into a blubbering mess.’ the mage muttered to himself.

Teleporting a little too hastily from the Nephilim Realm after releasing Leliana to the demon, the mage had landed unceremoniously into a rather spiky thicket on the edge of the Waking Sea. Covered in brambles and sporting several scratches, Jowan had found an excuse to delay his arrival by pulling out broken twigs from his hair and coat. Finally he was forced to continue on and find the cottage he sought.

From the outside the cottage appeared abandoned. Wild ivy covered the walls and windows of the rundown dwelling, and there was a thick carpet of weeds covering the path that led to the splintered door.

His shaky pale hand raised to the door and knocked quietly. Perhaps some part of him desired no one answer? That he had the wrong cottage? Or simply that the party he sought to greet had left long ago?

The door creaked suddenly and Jowan flinched as a dwarf lunged at him from the other side.

‘Well whaddya know, Riddles is back!’ exclaimed Varric in delight ‘Beat me to a crisp, you’re alive!

Jowan’s feet left the ground as Varric lifted him waist up in a fond embrace. The mage’s arms flailed as the dwarf jovially placed him down on solid ground once more.

‘Certainly didn’t expect to be away as long as I was.’ apologised the mage ‘You must have been terribly worried out here all by yourself? And bored.’

‘That’s crazy talk!’ chuckled the dwarf ‘Got me kid, a goat and a whole bunch of time to write my latest installment of Swords and Shields. No tavern duties or templars and mages threatening each other. And no frozen fingers when I wake up in the morning. Heck I’m living the life here!’

The dwarf shook his head, as if amazed to see Jowan in the flesh.

‘I dunno bout you but I was 50/50 on whether you’d actually make it back here.’ confessed Varric ‘Was kinda certain Leliana would have sealed your fate. So tell me, is everything rosey now eh!?’

By the look on Jowan’s face it was apparent that things were not. Varric winced at the sight of his friend’s morbid look.

‘Ah shit.’ grimaced Varric.

‘You’ve no idea.’ muttered Jowan ‘It’s not good. In fact, terrible would be a good word to describe the situation. Just terrible.’

Varric sighed. ‘Yeah I figured’.

Nudging his head with a grin, Varric beckoned the mage into the cottage. The dwelling was small with little furnishings aside from a chair, bed and a table full of books. A small fire burned in a tiny fireplace, and above it was a black pot bubbling with a curious smelling stew. The bleat of a goat could be heard outside a side window that was slightly adjar, and above the pane tinkled a tiny bell.

Jowan fumbled with his fingers as he looked about the hut uneasily. It was all a little too homely for his liking. A peaceful place that surely he would bring chaos to if he lingered too long.

Varric treaded quietly to a small wooden cot in the far corner of the room and gentely eased out an infant. The dwarf chuckled as he made his way back to the mage.

‘Hey-hey whaddya know! The kid’s awake finally. Has a knack of doing that during the night and then sleeping all day. I nicknamed him night-owl. Here.’.

Varric held the infant to Jowan but the mage hesitated, as if being presented with a strange pair of boots for his birthday.

‘Go on Riddles, the kid doesn’t bite.’ Varric grinned ‘Not yet anyway.’

Jowan hesitated as he looked at the baby being offered to him.

Quick to realise the source of Jowan’s hesitation, Varric nodded, finally understanding.

‘Ah heck Riddles. You’ve never held him before, have you?’

The mage shook his head, frowning at the baby. ‘No. Never was I permitted to go near the child. None of us were. I’ve never even seen his face properly.’

The dwarf smiled, taking a step closer. ‘Well allow me to make the formal introductions. Jowan, this is your son. And kid, this is your father. If I were a betting man I’d say he’s going to be a damn good papa to you. The best in fact.’

Varric eased the baby into Jowan’s arms and took a proud step back, admiring the moment from afar.

The mage went quiet, looking upon a boy child with green eyes, dark black hair and pale white skin. The baby’s fingers reached out to Jowan’s face and touched his cheek – causing Jowan to smile wide.

‘Goodness..he has my hair.’ observed Jowan, as if positively surprised.

‘Hey hey, go figure.’ teased Varric ‘What are the chances?’

‘You’re perfect.’ Jowan whispered to the child, tears filling his eyes. ‘He’s so beautiful, isn’t he Varric? I can’t believe how fine he looks!’

‘Handsome one there.’ Varric added ‘Ya son’s gonna break a lot of hearts.’

‘My son.’ echoed Jowan, unable to wipe the smile off his face ‘Yes, this is my son. My son. I can’t believe it and yet here he is.’

‘What will you name him?’ asked Varric ‘Ya know, considering Curly named him and all…’

Jowan appeared surprised. He shook his hea bnkd, dismissing the suggestion. ‘No, no, no. I’d never change such a thing. I may have gained a son this day but this was a name chosen out of love and honour by Cullen and Leliana. They loved him. They still love him. And for that reason I’d never change it. Well, not the first part anyway. Valahorn Lillius MacLothlorian - that will be his name.’

‘Well he’s one lucky kid.’ observed Varic, crossing his arms with a satisfied smile.


	120. Children of the Palace

Six months had passed since awaking from my sickness caused by the demon. I was alive but it felt like my life had been smashed against the rocks. After my conversation with Cullen at Redcliffe Castle he had departed that morning swiftly. Without a word of where he was going or even a goodbye, he just left. And so that was that.

_I cried for three days straight._

Out of a misguided concern that I was mourning out of sadness at being kept at Redcliffe Castle, Alistair called his men to set out immediately to Denerim Palace. I travelled in the royal carriage with the king and we spoke formally about future days ahead. By the time we had reached the city Alistair departed that carriage stormy faced and furious.

He knew my intentions and that I intended to stick to them.

It had been hard to accept that I was with child, and even harder to know it was Alistair’s. We had enjoyed one night together and I knew he was a good man but I didn’t want to be his wife or the mother to his child. Of all the times I had entertained the thought of having a child, it had only been with Cullen. And perhaps even then I wasn’t entirely sure that would have been a good idea. I wasn’t ready for any of this but I knew I had to be.

My decision for what would happen in days to come was a hard one but it had to be done….

~~~~~~

Ding…dong….ding…dong 

The morning bells of the Chantry in Denerim tolled in the distance as I waited impatiently on the stone steps of the palace for my friend’s carriage to arrive. Word had come several days prior that Jowan was to grace Denerim Palace with his presence, and with him travelled a certain baby we all wished to meet. They were to be expected at the Palace this very morning and I couldn’t contain my excitement a moment longer.

The wooden doors of the palace opened behind me and to my dismay I turned to come face to face with Eamon, The Arl of Denerim.

‘Good morning Your Majesty.’ he acknowledged smoothly ‘I hope this day finds you well?’

Remind me to kill Alistair later for allowing this man to continue living here in Denerim.

Mustering a feigned smile, I nodded to the man.

‘Good morning Arl.’ I greeted icily ‘Indeed how could this day get any better now you are here?’

Andraste help me.

Eamon dismissed the remark and eyed my stomach, now prominent as I approached my eighth month of carrying.

‘You're looking most well.’ he observed ‘Expecting a child suits her Majesty. May there be many more to come in future years.’

Unable to do any but grit my teeth at the comment, I nodded politely.

‘You’re too kind, as always.’

I have magic Eamon and I’m not afraid to use it.

‘Well I must be off.’ smiled Eamon ‘Your husband has me working extra hard. A lot needs to be done before the birth of your child. Exciting days ahead!’

With a bow he departed, unaware I was glaring at him with daggers in my eyes.

The rolling wheels on cobbled stone distracted me and I looked over to see a black carriage riding towards the entrance of the palace. Unable to conceal my delight I clapped my hands in excitement as I lumbered over to the carriage door and grinned, waiting for Jowan to reveal himself. 

A distinguished looking mage retreated from the carriage, dressed in a rather expensive looking Orlesian black jerkin, pants and shiny boots. He smiled brightly, holding a significantly larger baby in his arms than the one I remember seeing Leliana with in Skyhold all those months back.

‘Ophelia it is wonderful to see you!’ remarked Jowan jovially. He turned to look to his baby, placing a kiss on the boy’s chubby cheek. ‘I’ve told Valahorn all about you.’

‘All good I hope.’ I grinned, embracing the pair.

‘Not at all!’ teased Jowan.

‘He’s grown so big!’ I swooned, running my finger along Valahorn’s cheek. ‘Oh, you’re just as sweet as a sugar bun!’

The mage whistled, his black eyes lifting up to view the mighty palace in slight awe. ‘So here we are. Denerim Palace.’

‘The very one.’ I observed dryly. Lacing my arm through Jowan’s, I led him up the stairs. ‘Leave your bags, the servants will do that. Come let’s have tea.’

Beckoning my new guests up the steps, I directed them to a private sitting room for refreshments. Jowan chuckled as he stepped into the royal parlour.

‘Lashings of cake and coffee amongst opulence and Ferelden charm.’ observed Jowan ‘Well Valahorn, I think we’re finally home!’

Pouring the man a cup coffee, I was desperate to learn of his journey. So much time had passed and I needed to know what was going on outside the palace.

‘Here take this cup so I can steal your delicious baby.’ I directed cheerfully. Gently I reached out for Valahorn, eager to hold the chubby baby while Jowan filled me in on everything.

‘So, how’d it go?’ I pressed ‘Valahorn’s with you so it must have gone well? Thank Andraste! But you took your damn sweet time getting here!’

Jowan rolled his eyes, sipping his coffee eagerly. ‘You know that I intended to be here six months ago. All I had to do was make one small trip to Val Royeaux to inform the Grand Cathedral of what had occurred to Leliana.’. Jowan wiggled his nose mischievously ‘With of course a little tinkering to the story to ensure we aren’t made to look the devils in all that has happened.

‘Naturally.’ I grinned ‘But did they believe you? You were the Left Hand to the Divine, and father to her child. They must have been very suspicious of your involvement in Leliana’s disappearance.’

‘Yes at first.’ sighed Jowan ‘Although a guilty man is hardly going to waltz into the Grand Cathedral with the Divine’s child in one arm, is he? No they have their ways of finding out the truth and this Sapientes appears to be a demon already written in their ancient texts. Curious isn’t it?’. The mage frowned, wiping a stubborn dried milk stain on his tunic. ‘Between you and me, I think the Chantry was relieved to be rid of the child.’

‘Why?’ I asked in surprise, looking over to the child. With his sparkling green eyes and black hair, he was the picture of an angel. He’s the Divine’s child.’

Jowan chuckled. ‘Precisely. You should have seen the reaction when the clerics learnt of Leliana’s pregnancy. Horrified. Mortified. Their pious Divine, a symbol of purity and chastity, announces she’s having the unmarried bairn of some templar? No no no, that was a little much even for them. The Grand Cleric hushed up her pregnancy and when Leliana had Valahorn it was never acknowledged in any official capacity by the Chantry.’. Jowan took another sip and shrugged. ‘By the time I came and told them that I was actually the father – well, let’s just say they were more than a little outraged. It appears our former Divine was a little less pious than they believed her to be.’

I was beginning to understand. The Chantry sounded more than happy Jowan take Valahorn because he served to do nothing more than to sully the Chantry’s reputation.

‘Naturally Cassandra Pentaghast vouched for me and I must say her word carries a lot of weight around the Chantry these days. I spoke to her in private, explained everything. She was terribly concerned to learn that Sapientes has Leliana. She’s vowed to do whatever it takes to get her back and I believe her.’

That was an unnerving revelation to think Cassandra would be at the forefront of this search and rescue. Her skills as a Seeker made her a powerful ally. And although Jowan had insisted that Leliana was not the black hearted villain we all believed her to be I still wondered whether the best choice of action was to rescue her? Jowan appeared to think so. I wasn’t so sure.

‘How is Cassandra enjoying her new role? Or should I say, how is Divine Elizabeth enjoying her new role?

The mage shrugged as he added two sugar cubes to his coffee. ‘Surprisingly she seems to have taken to it with the passion of a zealot but the mind of a progressive. When Leliana was Divine she complained about the position incessantly yet appeared to lack the drive to make any real changes. And being her Left Hand I can tell you it was a tedious affair. If you’re not into Chantry pomp and ceremony you’re in the wrong place over there at the Grand Cathedral. Hence why Cullen bailed on the job so early on. But I see Cassandra truly embracing the role. Hmm, she might just turn out to be the best Divine of the lot of them.’

‘Poor Varric.’ I sighed.

‘Cassandra asked about him but you can tell they didn’t part on good terms.’ added Jowan ‘He’s moved back to Kirkwall.’

Casting a sad smile, I knew at least Varric might find some happiness there. The dwarf had sent me a letter informing me of his decision to leave Skyhold. He didn’t mention that it was because of Cassandra’s decision to become the Divine, but you could tell it was part of the reason. As sad as I was to hear that Varric was leaving I couldn’t blame him. He too had made many happy memories in Skyhold with a person he cared deeply for. A person he could never be with. Yet there was hope for better days for our dashing dwarf. I could see Varric swigging back ales at The Hanged Man, gathering a group by the fire to retell tales of the Inquisition that never occurred. Perhaps he would publish another book or two? Maybe Corff would finally refund his tab at The Hanged Man? The possibilities were endless in Kirkwall. 

Jowan smiled, appreciating the sight of me holding his son.

‘It suits you.’ Jowan observed with a grin ‘You’ll have one soon enough. My goodness, you have no idea how strange it is to see you so-’

‘-big?’ I suggested with narrowed eyes ‘Glowing? Oh, you have idea how much I love hearing people say that to me. Her Majesty is positively glowing. Glowing like a stuffed pig on a feast table I’d wager.’

The mage laughed. Snapping his fingers at me, he mustered up another word. ‘Radiant.’ he chuckled ‘You really do have this radiant aura about you. There’s so much beauty in a pregnant woman. No truly Ophelia, there is. There’s something fascinating about seeing a woman with child.’

‘Oh that doesn’t sound at all creepy.’ I teased. Looking at Valahorn I smiled. ‘How can you not love this? He’s beautiful. You know I’ve set up your rooms on the top floor of the palace? I can show you them after you've finished your coffee.’

‘Are you saying we're in the royal quarters?’ observed Jowan doubtfully ‘You really think Alistair will be happy sharing his wing with me of all people?’

Rolling my eyes at the comment, I nudged the man playfully in the shoulder. ‘You’re family to us. Alistair has agreed to raise Valahorn, Caerwyn and Kieran here and he intends to raise the three children together, forming a bond that only siblings enjoy. It’s important that they grow up united.’

‘Essential.’ Jowan agreed ‘We know this is our best chance to avoid any wars between them in the future. Alistair is very good to be doing this.’

‘Valahorn’s nursery is located next to Caerwyn’s.’ I grinned ‘You know I can see them in future days happily playing together in there for hours. The place is stuffed with toys to the brim. Alistair even carved a few himself.’

‘So you and Alistair have decided on naming her Caerwyn? The name of your child in the prophecy?’ observed Jowan in surprise. ‘I thought perhaps another name may have been chosen?’

‘It's funny that. After relaying the prophecy to the Ferelden counsel, one member mentioned that Alistair's grandmother's middle name was also named Caerwyn. We were stunned, I mean what does that mean? Was it an omen? A message from beyond? It’s strange but we all agreed it was a very appropriate name for this child.’

‘Fate?’ suggested Jowan.

Sighing, I looked at the baby. ‘Is that what this is all about?’

The mage grew quiet as he looked to me. ‘Between friends, tell me - how are you? You never mentioned much in any of your letters and I worried that might be because you feared your letters were being monitored by the palace?’

Handing back the child, I placed a hand on my rounded belly as I eased into a chair.

‘What’s there to say? I’m expecting a child to the King of Ferelden.’ I informed drolly. ‘I never wanted this child but here I am a month away from giving birth. And I’m married to a man who I don’t want to be married to and who we both avoid like the plague whenever we pass paths in the palace. So yes, I’m great.’

Jowan came to sit by me, patting my shoulder with a sympathetic smile. ‘I never wanted a child with Leliana but Valahorn has turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to me. You'll see the same soon enough. Your daughter and my son will grow up here together and be the closest of friends, just like you and I.’

I smiled at the mage. ‘Well that doesn’t sound too bad does it?’

‘Not bad at all.’ remarked Jowan.

Silently he looked at me as I grew quiet, obviously troubled about the situation.

‘Are you sure this is what you want to do?’ he asked precariously ‘As much as I need you and your exceptional gift with magic, I could manage without you. You could stay here with the children and help from afar?’

Sighing at the comment, I knew that was not possible.

‘Come on Jowan, you can’t do this alone.’ I replied darkly ‘The mages of Ferelden need battle training and we’ve no one willing to step up to the task. I’ve written to so many professors from the old circles seeking help with training. Every single one turned down my proposal, rejecting the notion of training ordinary mages to become specialised offensive warriors in magical combat. Other senior mages I’ve written to refuse to believe Sapientes is even a threat. And then the rest believe that the Inquisition is over and there is no need for a collective mage presence in Ferelden. I’ve been called delusional, fear mongering and downright dangerous in my request for aid. I’ve been labelled a heretic by the Chantry and even a traitor by many in this very palace.’

‘A traitor?’ mused Jowan ‘For wanting to provide a Mage Order to the people of Ferelden?’

‘Mages are equipped with magic and when abused this can cause harm to others.’ I sighed ‘No matter how much we reassure the everyday rustic that mages can control their powers, in truth how can we rightly do so? At the end of the day a mage is in control of their own power and that is a moral dilemma each individual must make on their own.’

‘A man with a sword could easily do the same amount of damage.’ pointed out Jowan ‘It’s why we have laws. And punishments for doing the wrong thing. The same principle applies to mages. I just don’t see how they can be so fearful of something that could protect them so much better than an army of rusty swords.’

‘Alistair is against the idea, as you can imagine.’ I added tiredly ‘He wants nothing to do with my proposal for The Mage Order to continue and refuses to help me. Hence the people see it as me going against the king’s wishes. Some would regard that as treason.’. Shaking my head I knew it did not matter. ‘We must continue to train the mages for the safety of your son, my daughter and Kieran. For the safety of Ferelden. We know they don’t stand a chance without magic. Powerful magic. There is no other way and no one willing to take on this task but us. Yet Alistair is adamant the templars are the key to protecting his children and believes mage involvement will hinder their efforts. He believes the Mage Order could serve as a powerful vessel for the demons to gain access to this realm. Similar to what happened at the Ferelden Circle Tower. The Templar Order has advised Alistair they too fear a similar scenario. So naturally we get no aid from Ferelden.’

Jowan threw me a raised brow. ‘Or Alistair seeks to punish you for leaving him to go do this. Can’t be happy that his Queen is seeking to leave him? Perhaps he is willing you to fail so you’ll come back here?’

‘In his own special way, I believe he does wish it.’ I muttered ‘Were I to remain his wife he could have forbidden my involvement with the Mage Order on the grounds of it being too dangerous for the queen to be away from the city. Yet now I seek divorce he knows he has no grounds to keep me from this. He tried using our unborn daughter, vowing she be raised in Denerim and could not go with me. I told him I still would leave. The Mage Order is our only hope to contend with the magic these demons will have. Alistair told me the Templars see us as a risk and he is beginning to see it that way too. So here we are.’

‘Perfect. So we’re on our own once more.’ sighed Jowan ‘And walking on eggshells around the man we’ve entrusted to raise our children with. Of course that’s not going to come back to bite us in future days.’

I sighed, knowing all too well it was a plan far from perfect.

‘It’s a delicate situation but I can only hope Alistair will do the right thing in days to come. He’ll see the mages as an asset and not a hindrance. His views are skewed from the days at the Kinloch Hold where the mages of the circle were possessed by demons. No wonder he thinks mages are the worst army to face Sapientes.’

Jowan looked sadly to his son, nodding. ‘Alistair may lack faith in us but he is a very good man. He will take care of Valahorn well. He’ll take care of your daughter well.’

‘He will, of that I have no doubt.’ I agreed ‘He’s furious at my decision but is wise enough to not try and stop me with force this time. I’ve agreed to have our daughter here if he agrees to release me from my marriage after the child is born. After our divorce is complete I will leave for Skyhold and begin raising a mage army fit to fight any demon army. Our daughter will be raised a princess in Denerim, naturally I may see her whenever I choose. Yet she will not be able to leave Denerim. I fear she will be trapped in this palace as I am now.’. Shaking my head, I held my belly. ‘But the day will come when I will rescue you from here. Of that I swear.’

Jowan grabbed my hand and squeezed it in reassurance. ‘She and Valahorn both.’

Throwing him a silent nod, I knew we intended to keep that promise.

‘Morrigan and Kieran have moved into the palace already. You’ll see Kieran soon enough; he’s been asking to see you every day since we received word you were coming. The boy looks to you as a hero and rightly so – you saved his life. You should know Alistair sees you in the same light. You saved his son. And now he has son by his side once more and he’s never been happier. But never a king will Kieran be. Only my daughter will suffer that privilege.’

‘Why not Kieran?’ queried Jowan ‘He is the firstborn son to Alistair. Surely that holds weight?’

Shaking my head, I knew it were not so. ‘Ferelden law upholds tradition above everything else. The heir must have been conceived in the king’s bed. Besides, Morrigan has specifically stated Kieran is not to take up that role. She only comes here on that condition. Alistair fears to lose his son so he will never push that role on Kieran.’

Growing serious, Jowan looked to his child with concern.

‘It’s the only way they remain safe.’ I added dismally, wrapping a sad arm around my friend’s shoulders. ‘We do this for them. Remember that.’

‘I know.’ murmured Jowan, pressing his cheek affectionately against the baby boy’s. ‘I do this to protect him but all I truly want is for him to be with me. I need him in my life Ophelia or I think I might just fall apart.’

My eyes filled with tears and I nodded.

_I knew exactly how he felt._


	121. The Monks of The Magi Mead

** _Three years Later_ **

Warm candles spilling soft wax burned brightly in the old War Counsel Room at Skyhold. The long wooden oak table remained in its usual place, a memento of days long gone by when Josephine, Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen and I had stood around it. Working together, we were full of hope for a better world. Well perhaps not Josephine. Or Leliana. And even Cullen really?

_Okay it was just a good-sized table to store papers and cups of tea on._

Jowan and I had transformed the war room into our Mage Order office, a place where we gathered in the evenings to mull over the day’s issues. A blazing fireplace and two weathered Orlesian lounging chairs remained close by, surrounded by well-loved piles of books. It provided a cosy respite to while away the long nights and often we’d just sit there and enjoy the blissful silence.

Above the fireplace hung a large portrait framed in gold. It was of two young children sitting together on a large swing in the royal gardens at Denerim Palace. Caerwyn Theirin and Valahorn MacLothlorean. My daughter was nearly three years old now and the most wonderful thing I had ever done in my life, intentional or not. She was clearly a mix of both Alistair and I, for she had my green eyes and Alistair’s Ferelden nose and beautiful smile. With long brown hair and freckles on her cheeks, she was the sweetest little girl in all of Thedas and she made sure everyone in the palace was aware of it. The second sweetest child in Thedas was the one sitting next to her in the painting. Valahorn was four and a quarter years old now and the spitting image of a young Jowan, although sometimes when he threw a tantrum I swear I could see Leliana come through. He held the serious air of Jowan and yet was terribly cheeky and always had us laughing in delight at his antics.

Caerwyn and Valahorn were the sweetest children that ever graced Thedas and both Jowan and I dearly missed them. The portrait above the fireplace served to remind us every painful day we were not at their side as to how much we missed them.

One day we would all be together once more.

That evening I had found myself working hard on lessons for the next day. The mages needed to practice advanced barrier magic and I knew it was imperative to begin teaching these spells to the apprentices, despite that these were spells were intended for the most senior of mages. Our ability to excel relied on overcoming these barriers, but it was hard for many of the younger mages who weren't as experienced. In battle it wouldn't make a difference whether a mage was young or old - everyone needed to master these spells. 

So lost was I in my notes that particular evening I barely noticed the door open.

‘Protective shields against blood magic.’ I muttered to myself ‘Crimson Auric Shield, Sanguine Energy Veil and…dammit, what’s the third one?’

‘Advanced Arcane Shield.’ informed Jowan.

Looking up in surprise I noticed the mage tapping a piece of parchment in his hand. He whistled, as if trying to suggest he held something of great interest.

‘What is it?’ I smirked ‘Menu for next week? Let me guess, cook’s making that incredible stag pie again.’

‘No, and also you’ll never guess who this is from so don't even try.’ Jowan chuckled. Re-reading the letter before me, he shook his head in disbelief as he finished. ‘Do you remember a Knight-Captain Arrus that we had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting in Denerim about a year back?’

Snorting at the comment, I recommenced writing my notes. Of course I remembered. ‘White hair, blue eyes and the pastiest complexion from here to Orlais?’

‘Which is about one yard outside the window that way.’ observed Jowan sarcastically.

Grinning at his comment, I waved my hand to apologise. ‘Sorry I’m being too vague aren’t I? That little pasty blue eyed templar rat who was handing out propaganda in Denerim about the dangers of The Mage Order’s presence in Ferelden. I recall him handing you two sheets in passing. So official, those templars.’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘See our evil presence swarming all over Ferelden as we sit perched on the western border, pressed up against Orlais like an ill-fitting oil skin doublet.’

‘I don’t know, we’ve somehow managed to fill Skyhold to the brim with mages.’ I observed smugly, crossing my arms in satisfaction. ‘The Templar Order failed to see that further ostracising mages like that would send more our way. That was our best year for enrolments.’

The mage smirked, tapping his lip in contemplation. ‘Perhaps we should have sent a fruit basket in thanks?’

‘Too many fruits over there as it is.’ I laughed. Pointing to the letter, I raised my brows. ‘Sooooo??? What’s this letter about?’

Jowan flung the letter onto the table, clearly amused.

‘Knight-Captain Arrus has invited us to Caer Bronach in Crestwood to speak about an alliance. Apparently they value our mages a little more this year?’

‘I call bollocks!’ I quipped, scanning my eyes over the letter ‘It’s probably a ploy to lure us there and then shove us in a cage.’ Indeed it was a proper invitation to from Caer Bronach, holding the official Templar Order Seal. ‘Well what do you know? This letter smells wonderful – like coffee, dried cherries, inflated egos and utter desperation.’

‘A popular templar perfume.’ observed Jowan.

Throwing the letter back on the table, I shrugged.

‘Let’s send one of the senior mages to attend. I don’t need to look into my crystal ball to see that this is nothing but a ruse. They probably think they can control us better if we fight under the one flag. Our growing mage presence is better controlled when united. Yeah okay templars, nice try.’

‘Perhaps, perhaps not?’ mulled Jowan. He appeared less cynical, which was a rarity.

Frowning at my friend, I was slightly confused. ‘You think the Templars and Mages should unite? Have you been possessed by a Templar?’

The mage waved off the remark with a grin. ‘No, I’m thinking perhaps this is the footing we need to finally get aid from Ferelden? King Alistair listens to the Templar Order. If he gets wind that we’re in cahoots with these drongos maybe we’ll get the funding we desperately need to prosper?’

Although it pained me to agree in this particular situation, I knew he was right. When Jowan and I set off to Skyhold two years ago, six months after the birth of my daughter, we had arrived to a keep full of hungry mages and not a coin to shine between us. In our desperation we ended up going to the most unorthodox man in Thedas to help us concoct a scheme to earn coin.

Varric Tethras. 

Varric had relocated to Kirkwall and although content in his manor up in Hightown, we could also see that he was restless. He heard about our struggled plight and something sparked in his eyes. Varric told us about one of his journeys to Antiva where he had come across a monastery in the hills run by an Andrastean Cult. This group were very lucrative as they made their own mead that was blessed by the monks. Apparently people travelled far and wide, paying a hefty price for such things. With some help from our dwarven friend, Varric struck up a deal with us that we couldn’t refuse.

_To make enchanted mead and sell it across Thedas._

The idea was nothing short of brilliant. Varric knuckled down and developed, or dare I say stole, a fine recipe for making the mead. He left Kirkwall the very next day and struck a deal to purchase an apiary in Orlais, whose wildflowers, blackberry bushes and orange blossoms enabled the bees to produce an exquisite range of honey. Jowan’s strong knowledge in alchemy enabled us to develop a range of special meads that we priced accordingly. There was a mead tonic to aid in a range of health issues, mostly doused with elf-root. We developed love tonics, stamina tonics, relaxation tonics, tonics to keep one wide awake, another to help one sleep, and even a tonic to help with the winter blues.

Thanks to Varric we were able to use the money from the business to enable the Mage Order to continue at Skyhold. We had the keep and now the means to house and feed the hundreds of men, women and children that came to join our Order.

Of course, with success comes compromise.

Varric insisted on selling our brand in a way that was not so palatable to Jowan or I. In promoting the mead our dwarven companion claimed the monks of the Mage Order brewed the liquor in Skyhold and accordingly named our brand _The Monks of the Magi Mead._ There were no monks in Skyhold and we definitely didn’t brew the mead here. The story nevertheless developed the mysterious intrigue we needed to sell the stuff. Varric even forced our hand and made us open a mead gift store in the inner courtyard. To our amazement, people made the pilgrimage up the mountain to buy the stuff. Varric was quick to don several mages in monk robes and serve the visitors. Jowan and I couldn’t stop laughing for a week.

Unfortunately while the money flowed in we also gained a reputation that perhaps dismantled our credibility a little further - when it was learned that the Mage Order was selling tonics akin to the shady traveling merchant that soled cure-all tonics from the back of his rickety old wagon.

But you do what you must to keep the boat afloat, and that is what we did.

‘So?’ pressed Jowan, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘Do we go to Crestwood and hear them out or just politely decline?’

‘Well we know the templars don’t trust us and essentially base their entire Order on controlling and containing magic. Not a great selling point for us I fear.’

‘Agreed.’ nodded Jowan ‘However we also know that relying on mead sales is an unstable income that never brings certainty or security to our Order.’

‘It’s worked well so far?’ I pointed out ‘Varric says the demand is strong and we’ve already sold about half of our mead brewed this last summer.’

Jowan took a deep breath, clearly trying to make a careful decision on such a delicate matter. The Templars had kept a wide berth for three years since they had left Skyhold and we knew how important it was to keep the two Orders apart. Together, as mage and templar, we could never see eye to eye.

‘We are doing fine, you’re right.’ acknowledged Jowan ‘Yet there is no room for expansion. Skyhold is packed to the brim with mages and more keep coming. Since the mage rebellion we’re the only Mage Order in Ferelden and the Free Marches offering tutoring and residency. We're the only Order south of Thedas raising a highly skilled army trained in blood magic defense. What happens when we run out of room here?’

Secretly I feared the same scenario. The day would come when we would have to start turning mages away.

‘Alistair won’t aid us.’ I reminded Jowan. ‘He’s made that clear. We both know his views on The Mage Order. He makes that very obvious every time we visit the palace to see Caerwyn and Valahorn.’

Crumbling some dried herbs, Jowan dropped them in irritated clumps into small glass bottles. ‘Yet you see how much the Templar Order has flourished over the last three years under his support? Six Outposts in Ferelden alone. Six!’. Rolling up his sleeves, Jowan commenced to theatrically count the outposts on his fingers. ‘Harper’s Ford, The Aeonar, Kinloch Hold, Caer Bronach, The Flame Keep in Alamar and Fortress Tavish near Lothering.’

‘You can thank the Chantry for that.’ I grumbled ‘They too line the Templar Order’s pockets with gold. Do you know that I heard The Flame Keep was solely funded by the Chantry at the Grand Cleric’s orders? In Alamar. A secluded island where Maker knows what is going on because there’s no way of regulating anyone so far off the grid. We are subjected to regular inspections up here by the Ferelden guard, making sure nothing magically sinister is brewing in our evil black cauldrons. You think the same is being done to the Templars?’

‘Of course not.’ chortled Jowan ‘But that’s Alistair for you. He was raised by the Chantry and forever is bound to them through that bond. He’s not going to force the same regulations that we entertain. The Templar Order is a militant branch of the Chantry. That’s it. However, an Order like that means not so subtle Chantry influence in Ferelden. Which perhaps Alistair would be wary of in former days but now he needs just that. Extra protection for the day when Sapientes comes along. Let’s face it, Ferelden is a solid fortress packed with extra grunt these days.’

‘And then you have the Chantry publicly denouncing The Mage Order. Whispering in Alistair’s ear that we cannot be trusted. That magic-’

‘-is an abomination.’ injected Jowan in a haughty voice, attempting to mimic one of the clerics of the Chantry. ‘Yes, you’d think they’d have come up with a catchier phrase by now? I don’t know, something like; Don’t cast a spell, ring a church bell! or Say no to magic, go hug a templar!’

Chuckling at the mage, I was glad to have Jowan here with me at Skyhold. Having fought side by side during the Inquisition with him, running the Mage Order, raising children from afar and having to deal with that grief on a daily basis – well, we shared a lot in common these days. He was my best friend and I thanked the Maker every day for that. Or perhaps I should have been thanking Sapientes?

‘Hugging a templar is overrated. Trust me.’ I muttered.

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ mused Jowan.

Shuffling over to the cauldron above the fire and rubbing my arms to produce a little heat in an otherwise freezing room, I poured two teas into clay mugs. The steam rose and the scent of chamomile wafted pleasantly.

Handing Jowan a mug, I noticed he was re-reading the letter yet again.

‘Don’t tell me you’re actually considering on entertaining this proposition?’ I groaned ‘They’re not to be trusted. Last year we were being publicly denounced by the Order and now they want us to be allies? Something fishy is going on. Templars don’t like mages. I should know better than anyone.’

He tilted his head, looking at me curiously. ‘Please don’t tell me your decision is based on anything else? A certain templar perhaps?’

‘Of course not.’ I replied in annoyance ‘You know there’s been no contact at all between us for three years now. Why would he play a part in my decision?’

Jowan took a small sip of his tea and sunk into his chair in comfort. ‘I’m guessing that you don’t want to go near the Order because that would mean possibly seeing Cullen again.’ he suggested ‘After everything that you’ve gone through with that man I don’t blame you. Indeed I don’t wish to see him ever again.’

‘There was a time when I believed I could save him from his past.’ I reminisced ‘His violence. His pain. His hatred of mages.’. Shaking my head, I knew that it was pure folly. ‘All I believe I achieved was to allow him to project all that on me.’

‘You’re better off without him.’ declared Jowan ‘We both are.’

‘Not to worry, it’s no secret Cullen wants nothing to do with me.’ I shrugged ‘But it’s been years and we’ve moved on. This decision to meet the templars now is based on my larger understanding of the Order. Simply put, I don’t trust them.’. Sighing, I rolled my eyes in defeat. ‘But I know you seek answers and perhaps a path to greater funding for the Mage Order. So….fine. We should go if you want to hear them out.’

Jowan tapped our tea mugs with a cheer. ‘Most excellent! We can make a trip of it. Go see Knight-Captain Arrus in Caer Bronach and then stop by Denerim and see the children.’

‘Sounds good.’ I replied ‘Well half of that plan does anyway. I miss those cherubs.’

‘Me too.’ sighed Jowan. Noticing my frown, he patted my arm in reassurance. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t be at Caer Bronach. Six large outposts in Ferelden and thousands of templars around means he’s likely lost in a sea of soldiers somewhere. This will be an uneventful trip full of droll templars and stuffy opinions. And three beautiful children that I intend to lavish silly with toffees, books and toys.’


	122. The Touch of a Saint or Sinner?

Bidding farewell to the mages at Skyhold, and giving our sworn reassurance that no decisions would be made until we returned and held a proper vote, we were off! Jowan and I rode along the Gherlan Path, hands at the ready to cast magic at the wolves that often strayed on the rocky road. We galloped all the way down the Frostback Mountain and headed north, making our way around blue-green waters of Lake Calenhad. I noticed Jowan grow very quiet as we saw the Kinloch Hold in the distance, his dark eyes gazing over more than a few times. He hated the place but I believe in some strange way he loved it too for it was the place he and Lily had been together. Even after so many years, some wounds could never quite heal.

Finally we arrived in the afternoon at Caer Bronach, a keep bustling to the brim with templars and flags proudly displaying the Order’s Crest of the sword surrounded in flames. It was strange to see the keep transformed into a Templar Outpost rather than a place full of bandits. Perhaps it was an improvement? I was amused to see that the fireball scorch that I had performed years back still remained singed on the stones on the outside of the keep. That was a good spell.

Knight-Captain Arrus came to greet us in the courtyard and appeared the same pasty white haired templar leech we’d come to love from years past. He greeted us amicably enough and suggested he show us Crestwood before we retire for the day. Jowan and I were tired but felt obliged, sensing the Knight-Captain was eager to show off the village to his guests. We were determined not to stay any more than a night at Caer Bronach and so agreed to take the tour now and be done with it.

As we walked along the dirt path towards the village of Crestwood I was surprised to see the place looking so different compared to when I had been there years ago. A once abandoned village reeking of death and decay now flourished with life. As we walked through the market place, merchants cried out selling cuts of meat, large bags of potatoes and bushels of carrots. A group of children danced to a flute busking in the lane and men and women greeted each other in passing as not strangers, but as friends. The afternoon market was bustling and one could not help but be swept up in the joy and positive energy of it all.

‘You seem to have a large templar presence here?’ I observed, spotting many uniforms passing through the crowd. ‘Did the people of Crestwood find objection to that at first?’

Knight-Captain Arrus cast his eyes around the village square proudly. ‘At first we housed the templars in Caer Bronach but over time our numbers grew and they ventured to the village and felt this would better make a home. The people living here were few of number and more than happy to have a protective templar presence close to their homes. My soldiers built much of what you see around you. A selfless sacrifice of duty to the people of Crestwood. The templars joined the village and as you see we are a large and prospering settlement now. We encourage our templars to live their lives as they see fit, whilst serving the Order. They have made families and lives for themselves here. Times have changed. And as changes occur, we too must adapt.’

‘Such as no longer being able to imprison mages?’ remarked Jowan dryly.

Arrus nodded patiently. ‘Naturally that is not what the Order is about these days. Long gone are the days of the Mage Circles. We still seek to control magic and protect the innocent from its effects. Be it human or demon within our grasp or not, it matters little. That is our objective now. Why even within our Order we have changed many archaic practices. Lyrium has now been entirely phased out and for those that suffer from past addiction we have made a community near Lothering for those who seek to rehabilitate.’

‘You clued on that the Chantry was just drugging you all so they could have better control over you?’ muttered Jowan ‘Finally.’

I smiled uncomfortably at Arrus, desperate to erase that last comment.

‘What Jowan means is, it is very promising to see such transformations. It takes courage to recognise what one has done for centuries may sometimes need to be changed.’

Jowan raised a brow to me, shaking his head as if to imply that was not what he had meant.

As we walked through the marketplace I became intrigued by the art of a nearby stall. Falling back from my companions to peruse the many brightly painted canvases, I found myself in awe of the work.

‘Amazing.’ I whispered, seeing one painting that reminded me of place I once visited in a dream. Surreal and vibrant in colour, yet lacking detail and thus drawing me into a trance by merely staring at.

‘Good morning m’lady.’ greeted the merchant ‘Ah yes that painting is a special one. Oils on canvas, painted by a local artist in residence at Caer Bronach.’

I raised my brows in surprise. ‘A templar painted this?’

‘Aye m’lady, many of the templars at Caer Bronach are very talented artists. They formed a templar art society. They paint and I sell their work. And some fine work it is too!’

‘I’m amazed they have time for such hobbies!’ I exclaimed, half to myself as I continued to look upon the paintings with awe. There was one of Caer Bronach, several elegant ones of still life drawings, and one large painting of the great lake. Each painting was filled with such joy and passion. There was inspiration flowing from these works. Indeed that jubilance could be felt as I looked over the village. This wasn’t just an encampment of templars. This was a home, and a beloved home at that, for all these men and women.

_How had the templars achieved all this?_

Thanking the merchant, I hurried on forward to catch up to my companions. The wind rushed about my feet and in the afternoon sunlight I felt the atmosphere grow strengely still. Peaceful. The sky above me was riddled with azure and lilac lines of an impending sunset, painting itself across the sky, breathtaking as the art I’d seen at the stall. The smell of fresh apples and strawberries greeted me and I breathed in the air and felt so calm.

My eyes got lost in the crowd and it was then that I saw a templar at a distance stop suddenly. His amber eyes drew to me as he raised a hand through his sandy locks, lifting his steel plated arm to hold above his eyes, squinting into the late afternoon sun to better see me. His muscular torso was encased in a steel breastplate holding the sigil of an upward pointed sword surrounded in flame, long steel tassets fell down to his knees, and red sash wrapped around his waist. He wore a crimson shirt under his breastplate and steel sabatons similar to the ones the knights of Ferelden wore adorned his feet. The armour of a Knight-Commander of the Templar Order.

I felt myself catch my breath as I froze in my tracks.

_It was Cullen._

Three years had gone by and still he was the chiselled perfect picture of masculinity, unchanged in his beauty or his powerful demeanour. In fact he looked stronger than I recalled; his arms and chest larger, and his legs like trunks of steel. The man appeared to have lost himself in his training rather than idling sitting back as some leaders may have done. With a broad steel longsword that hung at his side and a red shield on his back, the man was intimidating and intensely arousing. His skin was tanned a glowing bronze, no doubt from living once more under a Ferelden sun. His soft sandy hair remained neat and short, as Cullen always preferred it, and he kept a light rugged sandy stubble on his chin.

As Cullen approached he ran a curious thumb over his scarred lip, almost as if tantalised by a vision that he did not believe was real. A smirk on his face grew as he stood before me, clearly amused by the chance encounter. His strong hand reached out, clasping me on the arm firmly. A little too strongly. I gasped, feeling his metal encased fingers press into me as he pulled me towards him with his steel glove and placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

His lips pressed gentle and direct onto my cheek before he withdrew. Yet he lingered close for a moment and I could smell that moreish scent of amber, orange and clove. I felt his breath on my skin and Maker how that made me shiver.

‘Ophelia.’ he observed calmly. Crossing his arms, Cullen looked at me with amusement. ‘Fancy seeing you here?’

‘Cullen, hello.’ I greeted the man uneasily, my heart racing. ‘It’s been awhile.’

The Commander nodded. ‘It has.’

‘We came to see Knight-Captain Arrus.’ I informed hastily, vaguely throwing a hand pointing behind me. ‘A proposed union between the Mage Order and the Templar Order. Of all things eh? Who would have thought? Anyway, he was showing Jowan and I around the village but I seem to have gotten distracted.’

‘_Distracted_, are you?’ remarked the templar, raising a bow.

Silently I cursed myself for ranting on like a fool. _Stop talking._

The Commander’s smiling eyes lingered, holding my gaze. They were beautiful eyes, strong and as intense as I would often recall in my thoughts. He gazed at me as if he was taking in every part of me, yet he remained quiet and his face refusing to betray his thoughts. I remember how he used to do that. Those were the memories that stirred me and secretly that I held dear to my heart.

Perhaps I was imagining it but Cullen appeared to be enjoying my unease, his smile growing wider as I began to fidget with the sleeves of my robe. The wind stirred in the marketplace and my hair swept about wildly. Lifting a hand to my face he pulled back the loose strands across my face. His fingers ran along my cheek for a split-second and it felt like they were teasing me as they strayed longer than necessary. His warm finger stroked around my ear to wrap the hair behind it, and then travelled down my jawline and finally lifted away. My breathing grew faster as the templar continued to hold that smile, looking down at me curiously.

‘That’s better now, isn’t it?’ he observed gently, yet authoritatively all at the same time, as if speaking to a subordinate.

_Maker what is he up to?_

It was such an intimate gesture and yet it felt like Cullen did it once again to procure a reaction. Was he trying to destabilise me? Why did I feel he enjoying it a little too much for someone who essentially was a stranger these days?

‘So, tell me?’ he observed lowly, almost growling the words. ‘Why have you come here Ophelia?’

His attention was fixated, demanding my attention as his smile drained from his face. Already a little too close for comfort, the Commander took another step forward, this time almost pressing his steel breastplate against me. He wanted me to submit. I stood my ground this time and he raised an amused brow, as if my refusal was nothing more than a trivial insubordination that he enjoyed.

Before I could say something back, because honestly I felt completely taken aback by his invasive manner, he called out to someone behind me. Taking a several steps away from me, his demeanour changed suddenly as he smiled, revealing his white teeth between his full lips and casting his amber eyes to the west where a group of people he appeared to recognise. The man lifted a hand to wave before looking back to me.

‘We were glad to hear that you could make it here so soon,’ informed Cullen politely, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘I asked Arrus to send that letter a fortnight back and here you are already.’

‘You were behind this request?’ I remarked in surprise ‘Why not simply write to us yourself?’

Cullen waved again to someone behind me, smiling pleasantly to them before he turned back to me. ‘Well it’s not like being the Commander of the Inquisition. I’ve an entire army of templars here at my disposal here. One thousand men and women. I had faith that Knight-Captain Arrus was more than capable of writing a letter requesting an audience with the Mage Order.’

‘So how have you been?’ I asked doubtfully.

‘Very good.’ replied Cullen, his attention now turning to adjusting his gauntlets ever so slightly. A subtle move to show I barely held his interest as we exchanged civilities. ‘Better than good in fact. My feet are firmly back on Ferelden soil and this is a remarkable group of templars. Strong, brave and loyal to the core. Mind you Crestwood is a little further north than I’d have chosen for an encampment, but the sun is strong on our backs, the air is fresh and soil is red, rich and fertile. What’s not to love about such a place?’

Before I had a chance to reply, Cullen was distracted by a templar approaching.

‘Knight-Commander Cullen, you have a messenger from The Aeonar waiting at Caer Bronach.’ informed the templar.

Cullen nodded, turning back to me for a moment. ‘I must go. It was…’. Cullen paused, pressing his lips together as if trying to determine a word ‘ …_entertaining_ to see you again after all this time. Enjoy your tour of Crestwood.’

Entertaining? Did I just perform a circus act for him that I was unaware of? Was that a compliment or an insult? He was toying with me like a mouse being dangled before a cat. Three years of silence and the moment we meet he reveals himself to be…what? Friendly? Sinister? What was I dealing with here?

‘There you are!’ called out Jowan.

I turned to see the mage approaching, his eyes secretly rolling as he nudged his head to Knight-Captain Arrus beside him.

‘Sneaky boots. You missed the tour of the main town. Knight-Captain Arrus was kind enough to entertain me with the history of the area.’ informed Jowan ‘A rather large one but ever so fascinating.’

‘We can retrace our steps if you like?’ suggested Arrus, detecting Jowan’s sarcasm ‘Perhaps Mistress Trevelyan would enjoy to hear about it as much as you have?’

‘No no, that’s fine.’ I replied hastily ‘Forgive me but we’d rather get down to business. There’s no reason to delay why we’ve come here.’

Arrus nodded, gesturing we make our way to Caer Bronach. ‘I'm afraid the work day is nearly over so I have scheduled you a meeting first thing tomorrow morning with the Knight-Commander. There we shall discuss all matters. Allow me to show you to your lodgings at the keep.’

Jowan and I exchanged nervous glances as we walked back to the keep, passing many templars retiring for the day. There was something unnerving about being a mage amongst Templars, even when you knew you would be left alone. Our days in the Circles had left a haunting memory that we could never forget.

Arrus escorted us to adjoining rooms at the guest quarters in the middle wing of Caer Bronach and with a swift salute he wished us a good evening and he left us to ourselves.

‘Are you alright?’ asked Jowan, closing the door of the room behind us. ‘You looked like you’d seen a ghost when I found you in the market. Did something happen?’

Collapsing on the bed, I pretended to sob loudly. Jowan began to laugh.

‘You promised me he wouldn’t be here.’ I groaned ‘Why did I believe you?’

‘No?!’ exclaimed Jowan, in amused disbelief ‘You didn’t…see Cullen? In the market just then? Really?!’

‘What are the chances, Jowan?’ I asked, throwing him a playful dirty look.

The mage chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Well I believed them to be very slim but I forgot you have a knack for being unlucky at times.’. Jowan rolled his hand, encouraging me to elaborate. ‘So, what happened?’

Laughing in disbelief, I hesitated. How on earth could I explain what had happened?

‘Oh no.’ frowned Jowan ‘That can’t be a good sign.’

I nodded. ‘It was surreal. It felt like Cullen was playing a game.’

‘Game?’ mused Jowan ‘Like Wicked Grace? Chess? Samesies Snap Snap?’

‘No he was toying with me, im certain of it.’ I explained ‘So I was there in the market square looking at these paintings that had caught my eye. I looked up and Cullen was there in the distance, we both just kind of saw each other from afar. So he came up to greet me.’

Looking down at my arm, I held it tight like the Commander had, trying to show Jowan what had occurred.

‘He grabbed me by the arm like this, really firmly, and kissed me on the cheek. Stood right over me, and silently too, mind you. Ran his fingers across my cheek to sweep my hair away. But, it felt more than just brushing away hair. You know?’

‘Could those have been just been old habits of days long gone that he subconsciously played out?’ queried Jowan ‘Well you know he’s displaying his authority by doing it? That’s Cullen, he a templar. That’s what templars do.’

Typical Jowan to analyse a scenario within an inch of its life only to then conclude everything wrong with the situation had to do with the templars.

‘Three year of silence and he feels he’s on that level where he can waltz up to me and touch me like that?’ I replied doubtfully ‘Anyway, it gets stranger. So Cullen’s standing over me and his voice grows ominous. More threatening almost. He asks me why I had come here?’

‘A rather odd question considering he would have known about the Mage Order coming here?’ mused Jowan ‘Well I don’t know about you but this entire encounter is making me nervous.’

‘He came up so close to me that I could smell him.’ I added.

Jowan grimaced. ‘That bad eh?’

‘No, he smelt wonderful.’ I sighed ‘That’s not the point.’

‘Alright, let me get this straight. He stands right up in your space and asks why you are here? And possibly he's wearing too much perfume.’ observed Jowan ‘What happened then?’

Snapping my fingers at the man I nodded. ‘Before I had a chance to even answer that question he changes his manner. As in, right in front of me he transforms from this rather imposing being into this smiling jovial templar once more. I think there were people that he knew behind me and perhaps he had to change his behaviour for their sake?’

‘And this just gets creepier and creepier.’ chuckled Jowan, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘And then he said something like; It’s been entertaining seeing you again. Enjoy your tour of Crestwood. Throwing my hands in the air, I chuckled. ‘Entertaining. Really?’

The mage scoffed. ‘I swear that man just has a knack for getting under your skin and he knows it. He enjoys it.’

‘But after three years of silence to come back in full swing? What in the blazes is going on? Is he angry?’

‘When is he not angry?’ retorted Jowan ‘Ophelia do not to entertain this man. I’ve seen how much Cullen affects you. And for what? You’ve been happy these three years without him.’

‘What do you think of me?’ I chortled.

Noticing Jowan’s unconvinced look, I grew annoyed.

‘Fine okay, he took me off guard. He crosses the boundaries, that’s just what he does.’ I added irritably ‘It’s not personal. He just enjoys controlling the situation. Controlling people. Maybe your right, it’s a templar thing.’

'It's a Cullen thing.' quipped Jowan. Drawing his black hair back, he drew my hands in his. ‘Please my friend. I have met many dark souls in my life. Some demon. Some not. I know devilry when I see it.’. He frowned, as if contemplating whether to mention something. ‘When I was living at the base of the Frostback Mountains, Josephine came to warn me that Cullen had found out about my involvement in the possession of Michel de Chevin by Imshael. We stood in that hut; Cullen, Leliana, Michel, Josephine, and I. Josephine was a wreck. Crying pitifully and pleading to Cullen with a confession of love.’. Jowan drew a breath, as if recalling the day disturbed him even now. ‘Do you know what he did to her?’

‘I recall you mentioning this in former years gone past.’ I nodded, knowing what he was getting at.

Jowan refused to stop telling the tale. Perhaps he knew that I needed to hear it again. ‘He was wearing a steel gauntlet, you know the ones the soldiers wear, and he bashed her, as hard as any man could, across the face. She went flying across the room. And I mean flying. She was covered in blood and trembling in shock while Cullen threatened to run her through. I swear that is the truth.’

‘By Andraste…...’ I murmured, my eyes lowering. ‘You know he’s capable of much worse. He killed mages in Kirkwall. A lot of mages. I’m guessing he tranquilised mages also.’

Jowan sighed. ‘Of course he did.’. Looking around the room, Jowan glared at the furnishings with displeasure. ‘It took me many days to heal Josephine’s injuries. Her cheekbone was completely fractured. She would have died of that injury had I not used my magic back in the Nephilim Realm. Perhaps I should have never bothered, Cullen managed to kill her in the end. Ophelia - do not forget that this is the same man that pulls on your heart strings.'

‘He led the Inquisition to victory.’ I added quietly ‘Corypheus is dead because of him. He has done a lot of good.’

‘As have we.’ implored Jowan ‘The mages secured those victories.’

‘I’m just saying, he’s not entirely bad.’ I replied ‘He regrets much of his past. It haunts him.’

Jowan appeared unconvinced.

‘After three years of silence you deserve better than to be toyed with by this man.’ declared Jowan ‘Where was Cullen when you were with child in Denerim? Or when you toiled to keep the Mage Order running that first year we returned to Skyhold? We sacrificed meals and firewood, remember? Shivering and hungry, we struggled. Where was he when we fell to our knees and begged for funding to nearly every noble we could appeal to from here to Antiva? Varric came to our aid. Not Cullen.’

‘He didn’t know of our troubles.’ I pointed out.

The mage rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, he knew. Everyone knew. They wanted us to fail. Even your ex-husband believed you would, it’s the only reason he allowed us to remain in Skyhold. We would be out of the way working on a plan that everyone believed would result in failure.’

‘But Cullen didn’t owe me anything.’ I protested ‘We left amicably enough but the connection was cut at that point. He no longer worked for the Inquisition. There was nothing tying him to me or Skyhold or even the Mage Order. Our plight wasn’t his responsibility.’

Jowan shrugged. ‘Perhaps you are right?’. Appearing unwilling to say more on the matter lest we fight, the mage retreated to the door of my room. ‘We should get some rest. Tomorrow morning we’ll see just what Knight Commander Cullen is all about I suppose?' 

Sighing, he threw me a small smile.

‘I care about you, that’s all.’ he added ‘I don’t want to see you get hurt again.’

Throwing him back a smile, I nodded in thanks. ‘I know Jowan. I’m sorry about all of this.’

‘No, I’m sorry I brought you here.’ he replied glumly ‘I just hate travelling alone if I can avoid it.’

‘I wouldn’t have stayed in Skyhold if you decided to set out here.’ I reassured ‘Can’t let you have all the fun.’

The mage waved his hand with a chuckle and left the room, allowing me to remain wide awake for hours - alone with my thoughts.

‘


	123. Fighting Fire with Fire

That morning at Caer Bronach we made our way through the winding stone passages towards the top of the fortress. An open platform welcomed us, equal to half the size of the inner courtyard in Skyhold, and from it we could see the extensive view of Ferelden from above. Freshly tilled fields awaiting spring, white templar tents with red flags flapping in the wind, wooden training circles, the large village of Crestwood, and following on in the distance was the Lake Calenhad. In any other context it would have been a pleasant view to pause and appreciate, but Jowan and I knew we were not here to enjoy ourselves.

We were escorted to a large room located on the western side of the upper fortress for the meeting. It appeared to be a study, brimming with templar paraphernalia that resonated with the pride of the Order. There were shields and swords on display, mounted to walls proudly. One wall was lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling and packed to the brim with leather bound volumes. Rules, regulations, training manuals; every title appeared to have some connection to The Templar Order. Before the window a red mahogany desk sat with a neat pile of parchments, a candle, brown feather quill in a silver pot and templar seal beside it. A stone fireplace resided in the far end of the room and above it hung a tapestry with the words stitched: There was no word; For heaven or for earth; For sea or sky; All that existed was silence; Then the Voice of the Maker rang out; The first Word; And His Word became all that might be – Threnodies 5:1-8.

Knight Captain Arrus offered us water and we politely declined. Silently he retreated to the fireplace, looking at his boots as he waited patiently. The man didn’t have much to say and remained rather closed mouthed. It was as if yesterday he had been forced to play the obliging host yet today was all about business. I got the distinct impression Arrus really didn’t like the company of mages.

A quarter of an hour passed of twiddling thumbs before we were startled by the study door swinging open.

Knight Captain Arrus stood to attention and rose a gauntleted arm, saluting the man that had just entered.

‘Knight Commander Cullen.’ he acknowledged respectively. Turning to Jowan and I, Arrus formally introduced us. ‘Master MacLothlorean and Mistress Trevelyan, from of the mages at Skyhold.’

Cullen appeared to have just returned from training. He threw down his steel helmet and red shield beside the door and swiftly unbuckled his sword, placing it alongside the window. The Commander’s metal armour rustled as he walked over to Jowan and I, extending a polite hand to Jowan first.

‘Master MacLothlorean, thank you for coming.’ greeted Cullen, shaking the mage’s hand firmly. The templar in turn reached out for my hand and warmly grasped it in his own. ‘Mistress Trevelyan, it is good to see you again.’

Jowan’s amused eyes danced to mine, a split second that spoke volumes. It wasn’t often that we had the pleasure of receiving such a formal welcome from Knight-Commander Cullen.

‘Please take a seat.’ invited Cullen, extending his hand to the two chairs before his desk. ‘You’ll have to forgive my tardiness, we were trying out our new destrier war horses this morning. Fine stallions but several are too far jittery for the heavy cavalry. I had to make a detour to speak to the horse master before I came here.’ 

The templar seated himself at the head of the desk and proceeded to pull several documents from the orderly pile lying on the table.

‘No doubt you’re wondering why the Templar Order seeks an audience with the mages?’ acknowledged Cullen, his amber eyes catching mine before he continued to shuffle through the paper.

‘The Mage Order of Southern Thedas.’ corrected Jowan ‘That is the official name of our Order.’

Cullen paused, looking towards the mage with a smirk. ‘My apologies, Master MacLothlorean. I confess the name of your order at times remains a tad ambiguous to us here at the Templar Order.’. The Commander waved his hand airily. ‘The Mage Guild of Ferelden? The Mage Order of Southern Thedas? _The Monks of the Magi Mead_?’

Knight Captain Arrus concealed a snort of laughter from the corner of the room as Cullen continued to look upon us with a smirk of his own.

Jowan shrugged, unwilling to react to the Commander’s taunts. ‘As I said, The Mage Order of Southern Thedas is our formal name.’

Catching my eye, Cullen looked over at me with an amused smile still on his face. Pursing my lips, I too refused to react, knowing it was exactly what Cullen wanted.

‘Good to know.’ Cullen replied. ‘Well now, where to begin? Over the last few years our Order has been working in conjunction with the Kingdom of Ferelden and the Chantry in order to address the situation of Sapientes and his imprisonment of our former Divine Victoria. As Master MacLothlorean is well aware, this is a matter personal to himself and the Chantry.’

The mage looked slightly irritated. ‘Cullen, just call me Jowan.’

Cullen nodded courteously. ‘As you wish. As I was saying, this is a matter personal to the Chantry and the Templar Order, and Jowan. If we are to believe the intentions of Sapientes as have been relayed to us, this is a demon that wishes to cause havoc in Thedas in future years to come. He has a specific interest in Divine Victoria, and her son Valahorn MacLothlorean. However there has been reason to believe that the King of Ferelden’s children, Caerwyn and Kieran Theirin are also in danger as a result of the warmongering Sapientes intends to unleash.’

‘We know this already.’ I observed bluntly. I was growing impatient of this meeting after Cullen had decided to refer to my daughter as the King of Ferelden’s child and not my own. ‘The well-being of my daughter and Jowan’s son is an integral part of our lives and has been since the day they were born. In regards to Sapientes, we are well aware of the threat he intends to cause. It is why our Mage Order trains hard and intends to fight when the day calls for it. We will be ready.’

Cullen rubbed his jaw, his eyes lingering curiously as he looked upon me. 

‘You should know that The Templar Order and the Chantry does not formally recognise your Mage Order.’ Cullen informed ‘We invite to speak to you today with all due respect, but it must be known where your group stands. We do not acknowledge your collective as a Guild or Order in Ferelden, or even one in Thedas itself.’

‘Oh, I believe you’ve made that abundantly clear right from the beginning Knight-Commander.’ interjected Jowan ‘It matters little. Your Templar Order is but a religious sector of a religion that we do not worship.’

I could tell Jowan was irritated but he remained poised in his elegant manner, refusing to accept any slight thrown our way. 

‘While we appreciate the Chantry holds influence over templar matters, when it comes to arcane guilds there is no correlation with the Chantry.’ I added. ‘More to the point, we don’t require the Chantry to acknowledge The Mage Order of Southern Thedas in order for us to exist.’

‘Formal acknowledgements are fleeting.’ agreed Jowan ‘The Mage Order formally rejects The Templar Order, yet we still know you are a physical presence in Ferelden. As are we.’

Cullen raised his brows in amusement to his Knight Captain, who returned a chuckle to the Knight-Commander.

‘That is one way of looking at it I suppose?’ mused Cullen.

Arrus chuckled, shaking his head in apparent disapproval. The Knight-Captain was glib and it irritated me to the core.

‘I suppose it is hard for your Order to accept the mages in any other setting that isn’t a Circle Tower.’ I added dryly ‘That must come as quite the blow to your Order these days?’

‘I don’t see why?’ replied Cullen innocently ‘You might be surprised at our collective opinion on the matter. The separation of mage and templar was a wise one. We require an emotional distance from our charges in order to perform our duties. In hindsight, we see that it was harder to achieve that when working alongside mages on a day to day basis. The lines get blurred.’

Cullen’s smiling amber eyes turned to me wickedly, no doubt intentionally. My eyes narrowed, knowing he was once again trying to get a reaction.

‘Mistress Trevelyan, wouldn’t you agree?’ he inquired politely ‘Do you not agree the temptation of proximity threatens to dismantle our duties?’

‘No.’ I replied flatly. ‘I believe the templars are unable to live a secular lifestyle and this oppression results in their inclination to form unnatural bonds with their charges. Being asked to imprison mages, in addition to torture and murder them, would be abhorrent to the everyday man. Yet the templar is unable to live as the everyday man, and so they begin associate their duties as personal acts. Meaningful perhaps? Working alongside the mages every day is misinterpreted as an intimate relationship when in reality there is nothing more than an internal conflict within each and every templar. That is why the lines get blurred.’

Jowan turned to me in surprise, interested in my observation. Little did he know I had to spend years with a templar in order to arrive at that conclusion. A templar that sat before us at this very moment.

‘Well said.’ Jowan remarked.

Knight-Captain Arrus appeared less impressed. ‘You speak of us as if we were mad prison guards forming relationships with mops.’ he chortled ‘Our faith to the eternal cause of the Maker guides us and fills our lives with a purpose you couldn’t possibly come to understand. We need no other to fill a void, especially not a mage.’

‘Yes, and our duties are better served watchfully at a distance.’ added Cullen ‘The templar is a sacred role and one that we do not take lightly. Our sacrifice is for the greater good of the people and that is a worthy sacrifice indeed.’

Jowan and I watched on at the spectacle with displeasure. Bearing witness to this display of Templar faith was making us grimace.

‘So, you’re happy to watch mages at a distance rather than locking us all up?’ observed an unconvinced Jowan ‘Of course you do.’

Tilting my head, I was fascinated to know what Cullen was thinking. He crossed his arms and looked at us with smug interest. As if we were a long-legged spider caught in a glass jar. 

‘You find that hard to believe?’ asked Cullen.

‘I was under the impression that the templars soiled their trousers just thinking that a mage lived beyond their walls and had the power of free-will.’ I interjected. ‘It’s a right bestowed on all free men and women in Thedas but apparently your Order believes the gift of magic renders that right revoked?’

Jowan smirked at my observation, raising a brow at Cullen to see if he would respond.

Knight Captain Arrus shook his head in annoyance. ‘Gift? Magic is no gift. The Templar Order must maintain our ruthless piety, so all know that when we come there will be no mercy. A templar is a force even the greatest of mages fear when that arcane power is rendered useless under our hands. We quell their power before them and we are not afraid to do it.’

Jowan stirred slightly in his seat as he adjusted his position. A subtle gesture but I knew he was seething. He began picking imaginary bits of pilling off his robes, determined to distract himself. He used to do that a lot when the templars were living at Skyhold. 

‘I chance to say that I am indeed one of these great mages you speak of?’ observed Jowan casually. His dark eyes turned from Knight-Commander to Knight-Captain, a coldness in his expression. ‘Rest assure, your ruthless piety at it’s best would only hinder my attempts the way a flock of geese hinder my way forward during a lazy country garden stroll.’

Grinning at the mage, I couldn’t help but laugh. Turning to see Cullen remaining stone faced and Arrus glowering, I chuckled at the solemn pair before me.

‘Come on Cullen.’ I implored ‘Just tell us why you have asked us here? The Templar Order does not formally acknowledge us? Good to know! So why ask to see us? We the representatives of the unofficial Mage Order of Southern Thedas.’

Cullen stood up from his desk without a word, retreating to the door to pick up his blade before drawing his sword from his sheath. A loud ring of steel sounded as he held up the ornate weapon. The blade was of hardened steel etched with cursive writing, whilst the crossbar and pommel were wrapped in what appeared to be gold. Cullen wrapped his hand around the black leather handle and held up the weapon as he began to cite the words on the blade.

‘_Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the jus_t.’ spoke Cullen loudly.

Knight Captain Arrus lowered his head in respect, as if the words held a place close to his heart.

‘From the Canticle of Benedictions.’ informed Cullen, pointing the blade forward. ‘We are the ones who stand before the wicked and do not falter. When a monster threatens a village, you do not wait for it to attack. You seek out it’s lair and burn it to the ground.’. His amber eyes blazed with a fire of its own as he looked towards Jowan and I. ‘This too is how the Templar Order will deal with Sapientes.’

It was Arrus’s turn to draw his sword, pulling the hilt to his heart as he stood proud.

‘There I saw the Black City,’ spoke Arrus ‘towers all stain’d. Gates once bright golden forever shut. Heav’n filled with silence, then did I know all. And cross’d my heart with unbearable shame.’

Cullen made the symbol of the Chantry, as if silently praying to the Maker. His faith appeared to have returned in full vengeance, such was his pious nature before us. That was never a good sign.

‘We must rescue Divine Victoria from this blackened city where Sapientes resides.’ informed Cullen seriously ‘We must kill the demon before he comes to Thedas.’

I admit I was confused. There was a lot of quoting Chantry passages and theatrics, something about a monster lair and two templars drawing steel; but what had we to do with it? Looking over to Jowan and his displeased reaction, it appeared he knew exactly what was going on. The mage stood up from his chair and crossed his arms in displeasure.

‘The first of the Maker’s children watched across the Veil and grew jealous of the life they could not feel, could not touch. In blackest envy were the demons born.’ Jowan recited, glaring at the templars with great annoyance. ‘You’re not the only ones who can quote The Chant of Light. It adds no persuasion to your cause, only serves to remind us how embedded you’ve become in these archaic preachings. Only fools seek to act out passages written by droopy eyed clerics.’

‘We cannot stand by and do nothing.’ argued Arrus ‘You are not of the faithful. How could you possibly understand any of this?’

‘I was raised in the Chantry you nit-wit.’ retorted Jowan. Full of indignation he continued to recite. ‘_And so is the Golden City blackened. With each step you take in my Hall. Marvel at perfection. for it is fleeting. You have brought Sin to Heaven and doom upon all the world.’_

‘Canticle of Threnodies 8:13.’ acknowledged Cullen, appearing surprised Jowan chose to recite that particular passage. ‘Then you know we must act and act now.’

Jowan scoffed at the templar, flicking his hand at the man as if he were a pesky mosquito. ‘You have no idea what lies beyond. Save your canticles for morning prayers for none of it will prepare you for what you intend to do. All you’ll accomplish is a crusade of death to write about in future days. A bunch of delusional templars falling to their demise on the wings of misguided faith.’

‘What are they trying to do?’ I whispered, still unable to discern what any of the men were talking about.

Jowan refused to take his eyes off the Knight Commander.

‘It appears our dauntless Templar Order wants to gallop into the Golden City with gallant hearts and destroy Sapientes. Perhaps they intend to kill all the demons in the Fade? A rather elegant way to finish off your entire Templar Order.’. Jowan scoffed, clearly disgusted. ‘But they know they don’t stand a chance without the aid of mages. And me. That is why they’ve asked us here. That and to insult us with their chantry dribble.’

Catching my breath, I was shocked. That was possibly the stupidest plan I’d ever heard, and I’d heard a lot over the years. ‘That’s absurd! You can’t go waltzing into the Fade like that! Templars don’t have magic, you would be fodder for the demons.’

‘Unless they have a large group of mages protecting them as they march into the fade and attempt to use their…what did you call it?’ muttered Jowan. He snapped his fingers, recalling what Arrus had said. ‘Ruthless piety.’

The Commander was determined, placing his hands on the desk firmly as he held our attention. ‘We must crush this evil at the source,’ informed Cullen ‘and take back our Divine. We cannot afford to wait until Sapientes crosses the veil with a hoard of demons.’

Jowan chuckled in disbelief. ‘No, you’d rather my mages and I go on a suicide mission with a mop and bucket and clean up this mess for you.’

‘You hold an influential position when it comes to this demon.’ pressed Cullen ‘Sapientes has a bond with you, and you know him personally. There is no better person to go with us.’

The mage rolled his eyes at the Commander. Cullen stirred in annoyance.

‘So, this is your brilliant plan?’ chastised Jowan ‘To waltz into the Fade, kill Sapientes and rescue Leliana.’. Turning to me in amusement, Jowan added. ‘Why didn’t we think of that?’

‘Must be that Templar intellect they’re so well known for?’ I quipped. It was a mean thing to say but perhaps I also wished to put their Order down in front of them.

Jowan laughed, raising his brows at the men and waiting for a reaction.

‘Can we try and hold a civil conversation here?’ asked Cullen, looking at me with disapproval. ‘One that doesn’t resort to name calling.’

‘Sorry but Jowan’s right.’ I piped back ‘This is a terrible plan. Perhaps you have the numbers and the Chantry supporting you, but you don’t have the experience or magical abilities to contend with demons in the Fade. You’d be sending your templars to a fate worse than death. That is the truth, we’ve no reason to beat around the bush here.’

‘A mage army with our templars together could achieve this?’ suggested Cullen seriously ‘We are more powerful together, as was evident in previous days during the Inquisition. Perhaps working together we could be unstoppable in this mission?’

‘You wanted nothing to do with our Order.’ lectured Jowan frostily. He turned to point a sharp finger at Knight Captain Arrus ‘Don’t think we’ve forgotten your presence in Denerim a year back, handing those laughable diatribes to the citizens about the evils of mages and our Mage Order. Rather personal, wouldn’t you say? Why the sudden change of heart? Oh that’s right, you want us to sacrifice our lives for you!’

I crossed my arms defensively. ‘He’s got a point? Why publicly shame the mages and then ask for our help? You can’t have your cake and eat it too.’

Arrus frowned at us and Cullen sighed impatiently. The Commander ran an irritated hand through his hair and took a deep breath as if to will himself more patience.

‘This plan wasn’t our first choice.’ informed Cullen ‘Indeed we were well aware the best position for our Order was to approach Sapientes on the defensive. It is better to fight on our own soil where we can dampen all magic as it came our way. Circumstances have changed.’. Turning back to his desk, the templar retrieved the letter laying on his desk. ‘This was discovered a month ago. In the marble hands of the statue of Andraste in her temple in the inner catacombs of the Grand Cathedral. A place where none have access to aside from the highest of the Order. From what we can discern, it is not a forgery. For those who are familiar with Divine Victoria, such as myself, we can recognise it is indeed written by her hand.’

Cullen held up the letter to show us. It appeared hastily written in black ink, the words scrawled on a yellowed strange looking parchment.

_ Chantry hear me,_

_ Sapientes intends to take Valahorn. If he steps into the Fade all will be lost._

_ Send help now, templar and mage._

_ Make haste!_

_ Your Divine Victoria_

Darting forward, Jowan snatched the letter from Cullen. The mage cast his eyes suspiciously over the parchment, running his hand over the paper as if he was trying to sense something that no one else in the room could see. His eyes closed and he murmured an incantation under his breath.

Knight Captain Arrus placed his hand on his hilt slowly. I cast my eyes at him and shook my head, silently warning him to not be hasty.

The parchment glowed, filling with paper with words written in glowing red ink. Or perhaps blood? Words that had not been there moments before.

‘Maker preserve us…’ gasped Knight-Captain Arrus in disbelief ‘What wickedness is this?’

Cullen looked to me, as if imploring me to explain. ‘Yes, what is this?’

‘She sent you a message, but this letter was intended for me.’ informed Jowan, running his eyes over the parchment as he read it out loud to the group.

_ Jowan,_

_ Sapientes intends to take Valahorn to the realm when he reaches the age of rite._

_ If his soul crosses the veil it will trigger the ancient one within him that serves_

_ the demon world. This would be catastrophic and irreversible. You must not_

_ let them take him. Do whatever it takes to destroy Sapientes and do it now._

_ He is in Nephilim realm. There isn’t much time._

_ I pray to the Maker this letter finds you._

_ Leliana_

Cullen grabbed the letter, reading the letter frantically. ‘By the Maker, she sounds terrified.’ he exclaimed.

To my surprise I could hear concern in his voice. It was apparent that Cullen still cared deeply for Leliana, despite everything that she had done. Why was I surprised?

‘What does she speak of here?’ asked Cullen, pressing his finger on the letter. ‘What is the age of rite?’

Jowan clenched his fists in anger, pacing the room as his mind raced. He began murmuring things to himself, shaking his head to some and nodding to others.

Placing my hand gently on the mage’s shoulder, he stirred from his thoughts.

‘Jowan? What does this mean?’

The mage turned to me in surprise, as if he had forgotten he was in a room with other people.

‘Sapientes intends to take Valahorn back at the age of Rite.’ informed Jowan darkly ‘It is considered the age of magical maturity in the shadow realm. Eight years old.’. The mage drew his hand to his eyes, rubbing them is disbelief. ‘He intends to take my son on his eighth birthday. At such an age, I cannot fathom such a thing. If they get their hands on him, Valahorn will be shaped into the most hideous creature known to man. A gargoyle of clay – more demonic than human but flesh in form. A soul of an ancient one and feared by demon and man.’

Cullen was deeply troubled by Jowan’s words. ‘Are you saying Valahorn has the soul of some ancient spirit? Did you know this?’

Jowan’s dark eyes lifted to the Commander, serious and unwavering.

‘The demon who told me of Sapientes plan mentioned that Sapientes had intended for centuries that Valahorn was to be born. He clearly had a soul intended for my child. I suspected Valahorn possessed the soul of an ancient but I was never certain. Not until this letter.’. Jowan shook his head tiredly. ‘This possibility has haunted me for the last three years. I’ve studied every text imaginable on the subject. Picked Morgan’s brain night and day about ancient gods and Kieran’s soul.’

‘Is Kieran the same as Valahorn?’ frowned Cullen ‘Are we to believe they both may be taken?’

Jowan waved his hand to dismiss the concern. ‘No Kieran no longer carries that burden. He was born with the soul of an ancient god, Urthemiel. However according to Morgan, her mother Flemeth transferred the soul to herself. Kieran no longer possesses the ancient soul.’

‘Could the same be done for Valahorn?’ Cullen suggested hopefully.

‘I don’t know.’ muttered Jowan ‘It’s times like these I wish Morgan were closer to her mother. She might have come in handy right about now.’

The face of the Knight-Captain grew whiter than ever. ‘A demonic soul?’ remarked Arrus fearfully. ‘This child possesses an ancient demonic soul?’

Jowan turned to Arrus, his voice growing cold. ‘Valahorn does not hold a demonic soul so do not refer to it as such. Valahorn and Kieran Theirin shared a similar connection. They were born with the souls of ancient spirits. Not demonic souls. It is of little consequence when they remain in the mortal realm. The soul lies dormant and will remain so. However the moment Valahorn passes in the Nephilim Realm this ancient soul will become awakened. Whoever he once was he will no longer be. Leliana has come to learn of this and she fears for Valahorn. She has every right to. If Valahorn crosses over it would unleash a chaos that could never be contained.’

‘We can no longer wait for Sapientes to come to us, can we?’ I observed. Looking to Jowan, he nodded in affirmation.

‘No, this changes everything.’ replied Jowan.

The Knight-Captain was grim as he turned to Cullen, more interested in discussing matters with the Commander rather than with us.

‘Should we not consider stopping this child before he goes down that terrible path?’ urged Arrus ‘Final measures to ensure that he never reaches his eight birthday.’

Suddenly a flash of wild blue flame appeared in Jowan’s right palm as he glared at Knight-Captain Arrus with pure hatred. The flame danced angrily, sparking higher as if feeding off Jowan’s fury.

‘Agh!......arghhh Maker no….ARGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’ screamed Arrus in agonising pain as he fell to his knees. The templar grabbed his white hair, pulling at it as his body contorted in twists of anguish. ‘Make him stop….ARGHGHHHHHHHHHHHH!’

Without a moment’s hesitation Cullen drew his hands together and swiftly he performed Dispel Magic to clear the flame in Jowan’s hand, but as the white pulse of energy covered the room it was to no avail. The blue flame remained in Jowan’s palm, strong as ever. The Knight-Commander looked on in absolute shock as he then performed Holy Smite. A blue wave of force fell over the room, knocking me off my chair so forcefully it threw me to the ground. Taken by surprise, I looked up hastily from the floor to see Jowan standing beside me without have being moved an inch. The burning flame remained in his fist, as powerful as when he first cast it.

Jowan drew closer to the Knight-Captain on the ground, holding the flame as he crouched over the moaning templar. ‘_If you dare suggest killing my son is an option ever again I will show you the true meaning of a templar being wrapped in the blue flame._’ Jowan hissed furiously.

Arrus continued to scream in pain. Jowan refused to stop.

‘Jowan STAND DOWN!!!!’ Cullen roared, placing his hand on his hilt dangerously. ‘Enough is enough man. Don’t make me strike you down for something so trivial.’

Casting my eyes to Cullen I knew he was seconds away from drawing his blade and using it. Jowan was seething with anger and had no intention of calming down. This meeting was on the brink of starting a war between templars and mages. A war we couldn’t afford to start.

‘Jowan please.’ I begged ‘These are templars. We can’t be doing this in their encampment!’ 

The cries of Arrus softened as Jowan’s flame died in this palm. His dark eyes drew to Cullen, fearless and stern. As stern as the Commanders looking back at him.

‘Control yourself Jowan.’ growled Cullen.

‘When it comes to the magic Sapientes wields, your abilities hold no power.’ lectured Jowan strictly. ‘Better you learn that here in this room than out there in the Fade. Your magical purge does nothing. Your smite does nothing. In the Fade, your powers amount to nothing.’

Slamming his fist on the table, Cullen was irate. ‘So you thought torturing my Knight-Captain would be the best way to teach us that lesson?’. The Commander thrust his hand to Arrus, still wallowing on the ground. ‘Is there something you’d like to say to the man.’

Jowan waved a disinterested hand at the Knight-Captain, who was now pulling himself off the ground.

‘Is there something he wishes to say to me?’ snapped the mage ‘Your Knight-Captain needed a lesson in diplomacy. You don’t threaten to kill someone’s son and expect courtesy.’

‘How in the world did you cast that spell without incantation?’ demanded Cullen ‘Never have I seen anything like it in the Circle Towers. Or the Inquisition.’

His flinty stare held that of the Knight-Commander’s. ‘My powers branch further than you could possibly imagine.’ informed Jowan. 

So shocked at what at just happened I forgot I was still sitting on the floor of the study. How in the blazes did Jowan resist that magic?

Noticing with a flicker of worry in his eyes, the Commander hastily drew over to me, extending a concerned hand. Reaching out I felt him clasp my palm and graciously put his other hand to my arm as he eased me off the floor. Cullen’s eyes held mine, his voice full of regret. ‘My deepest apologies about that. You’re not hurt, are you?’

‘I wouldn’t worry, it’s not the first time you’ve done that to her.’ accused Jowan bitterly, throwing a filthy look at the Commander.

Cullen was surprised by the comment. He turned back to me, appearing even more concerned now. ‘_Ophelia_?’ spoke Cullen gently.

‘I’m fine.’ I replied, nodding to Cullen in reassurance. ‘No really, I’m fine.’. Glaring at Arrus, I was furious at the Knight-Captain more than anything else. ‘What a tactless suggestion to make? What kind of man are you?! Kill Valahorn? A child? Is that what the templars stand for these days?’

‘Better we deal with him before he becomes an evil that cannot be controlled.’ argued Arrus coldly ‘Sacrifices have to be made when corruption takes hold.’

Cullen cast an annoyed look to the templar, drawing a sharp finger to the man. ‘Have care man, you speak of Divine Victoria’s child. You speak of a child that I once called my own. And you speak of this mage’s child, a guest we have invited into our fort. You will show your respect.’

It was humbling to see the Knight-Commander stand up for Valahorn. He was not Valahorn’s father but it appeared Cullen truly cared for the child. No matter what the intentions of the Templar Order were, I believed Cullen’s only interest was to ensure Valahorn was safe.

Jowan snapped his fingers sharply at Knight-Captain Arrus, causing the templar to flinch.

‘Yes, be careful now Arrus.’ warned Jowan ‘My next spell won’t be so nice.’

‘_Jowan_.’ warned Cullen sternly.

Arrus glowered at the mage. ‘Just you try.’

Cullen groaned impatiently. ‘Both of you, enough!’

Knight-Captain Arrus raised his hand to his chest and bowed to Cullen. ‘My apologies Knight-Commander, I spoke without thinking and reacted in the heat of the moment. It was a moment of weakness that will not happen again.’

The Knight-Captain scowled at Jowan, refusing to apologise to him. Jowan shook his head, turning back to Cullen.

‘You’ve asked me here for advice and I shall give it to you. If you want to defeat Sapientes you need to fight blood magic with blood magic.’ informed Jowan darkly ‘Are you prepared to do that? Are you prepared to do whatever it takes to get the job done?’

Cullen’s eyes flashed angrily from Jowan to me, as if I had made the suggestion myself.

‘So is this what you train your mages to do up at Skyhold?!’ Cullen growled.

‘Of course not!’ I snapped back.

‘Don’t act so high and mighty Cullen, you Templars have taken full advantage of this type of magic before.’ warned Jowan ‘A fair portion of your Order stands here today thanks to it.’

The Commander appeared confused. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Jowan chuckled, as if it was a secret he had kept with a great deal of joy. ‘The spell I created during the Inquisition to release the Red Templars from the red lyrium. That magic I used to save your templars and allow them to live a normal life once more. That was blood magic.’

Cullen glared furiously at the mage. ‘What?!’

‘It saved your Order, didn’t it?’ argued Jowan ‘Your men and women were being tortured and corrupted by the red lyrium. They were dying and my magic saved them. Hundreds of them.’

‘Maker forgive their souls.’ prayed Arrus, his hands flurrying to make a hasty sign of the Chantry. ‘This is a horrific.’. Casting cold blue eyes to Jowan, he glared sternly. ‘I feel shame that I sent word for you to come here. You are a hateful, nefarious mage. The worst of the worst.’

The Knight Commander shook his head, running a troubled hand through his sandy locks. ‘Andraste forgive me, I should have known at the time. It was too good to be true.’

I turned to Jowan in surprise, being also unaware of the origins of the spell. ‘But there was no blood used when we cast the spell?’

‘It was in the potions we needed to give the templars to drink after the spell was cast. Three drops per vial.’ answered Jowan plainly, as if giving me advice on how to make a delicious chocolate cake.

‘Is that why the spell was four pages long to learn and almost impossible to perform?’ I added in surprise ‘Huh, fancy that.’

My mage companion shrugged, a slight cheek in his expression as he glanced at me. Rolling my eyes at the mage, I turned back to Cullen.

‘Cullen, it saved your people,’ I pointed out, trying to make him see the silver lining. ‘No one was hurt in the process. In fact, many were saved. I’m sure there are a fair few templars here at Caer Bronach that would not have been here otherwise?’

The templars appeared unswayed in their judgement, shaking their heads as I spoke.

‘You think blood magic doesn’t taint the very essence of someone?’ scorned Cullen ‘It disgusts me to think these good men and women were so corrupted, only to be corrupted even further by Jowan’s blood magic.’

‘Would you rather they be dead now?’ snapped Jowan ‘Are all you templars utter loafs fixated on purity?’

Throwing my hands in the air, I was growing impatient. ‘Jowan’s right! What do you want? Results or immaculacy? Because the two don’t always go part and parcel.’

‘Precisely.’ agreed Jowan ‘Let us be painfully clear, if you wish to defeat Sapientes then blood magic is the only way. The magic we teach our mages is advanced defensive and combative, but it is not of the school of the maleficar.’

‘I can vouch for that.’ I added seriously.

‘However the magic that I was taught by Sapientes was blood magic,’ continued Jowan ‘and it is a million times more powerful than anything you have ever seen a mage perform in the Circle Towers. Sapientes was grooming me to become a powerful maleficar and with that I was taught how to control demons. To torture them. To hunt them down. To control them. None of this power comes without a price. You want to kill Sapientes? You are going to need an army of blood mages on your side.’

A terrible blanket of uneasy silence covered the room.

Cullen’s breathing drew deeply in his chest as he hissed the words through fierce teeth. 

‘Get out, _you vile abomination_.’

Jowan’s black eyes pressed on the templar, an amused curl growing on his lips.

‘And there he is.’ whispered the mage ‘I wondered when you’d show your true self again?’

‘GET OUT!!!!!!!’ roared Cullen furiously ‘GET OUT I SAY!!!!!’

With a sweep of his black robe like a bat flapping into the night, Jowan passed me and swooped out of the room. I could feel his fury even as he left.

Knight Captain Arrus glared at me with disgust from afar whilst Cullen turned to me with a similar look. The Commander was livid. A bulge in his clenched jaw grew bigger each time he swallowed, and I could see several veins prominent on his neck.

‘So this is what the Mage Order truly stands for these days?’ demanded Cullen ‘You have a maleficar running the show and you’re the complying sidekick.’

Arrus kicked the stones of the fireplace and a loud band sounded from his steel boot. ‘Damn our leniency towards these mages. They should all be tranquilised.’

Gobsmacked at what I was hearing between the pair, I laughed out loud. ‘Well you’ve changed your tunes, haven’t you? And here I was thinking we could go and have a nice cup of tea afterwards. Listen to me - we don’t train any of our mages to use blood magic.’ As hard as it was, I was trying to remain calm lest this escalated more. ‘We don’t condone blood magic or use it. That is that.’

‘Aside from your friend there.’ pointed out Arrus, clearly furious at Jowan’s spell casting on him. ‘How is it that he can cast magic without words? How can he wield magic when Knight-Commander Cullen performed Dispel Magic and Holy Smite just then? No mage can retain magic when that spell is performed by a templar.’

Shrugging at the men, I didn’t have the answers they sought. ‘I wish knew but I don’t. Jowan holds strong magic. He is your best weapon against Sapientes for that very reason.’. Eyeing the mistrusting look of both templars, I added in jest. ‘You think we hide away in the mountains and perform blood magic under the spell of night? Dancing naked when the moon is high, waiting for a day like this for an opportunity to corrupt the Templar Order?’

‘We just witnessed a direct act of hostility towards a templar by the leader of your Order.’ informed Cullen darkly ‘Your actions do nothing but support our suspicions.’

‘Jowan was trying to make a point.’ I argued. Thrusting my hand at the Knight-Captain, I looked back to Cullen angrily. ‘Your Knight-Captain could have chosen his words better? Is this the fabric of your Order these days? Templars suggesting you should murder children? And tranquilise all of us?’

‘Valahorn is a threat to us all.’ replied Arrus heatedly ‘As is his father. And perhaps even you?’

Cullen threw a dark look at the templar. ‘Arrus.’ he warned sternly.

‘Jowan is the most powerful mage in all of Thedas.’ I responded crisply ‘That kind of power doesn’t come from The Chantry’s Guide to Arcane Verse and Herbology. You want true power to contend with Sapientes? Well you need to at least consider what he is saying. Fight fire with fire. Not fire with piss weak spells sanctioned by the Chantry.’

Arrus appeared inflamed as he stepped towards me, his fist clenched. ‘Who do you think you are? You’re a traitor that has fallen far from grace. All you are is a repugnant blood mage.’

‘ENOUGH!!’ yelled Cullen angrily. Pointing to the Knight-Captain, he clicked his fingers sternly. ‘You’re completely out of line man. Knight-Captain Arrus, you are dismissed. Return to your duties and do not utter a word of this to anyone until we speak on this later. Go.’

‘Yes Knight-Commander.’ Arrus replied quietly. He saluted Cullen and departed swiftly, casting his cold blue eyes on me as he left.

Hesitating, I wondered whether I too should go. It was a fruitless cause to try and change the minds of these templars. Cullen marched forward and closed the door in front of me, preventing me from leaving.

‘_No_.’ he ordered sternly ‘We haven’t finished this meeting yet.’


	124. Stolen Kisses

An especially chilly winters morning had brought a blanket of fresh snow to the ground. More light came into the forest at this time of year as the trees stood barren, and the once dense woodlands revealed itself to be a maze of icy intrigue. The hidden green sapling lay dormant, whilst icicles hung from branches dripping tears onto the powdery forest floor below. It was raw simplicity and it was perfect.

The crunch of ice under the horse’s hooves broke the silence every few seconds as the animal slowly passed by the slumberous trees. It’s rider kept a leisurely pace, casting his attention across the quiet forest. A white fur cloak covered his steel armour, a layer desperately needed at this time of year. Yet bitter as the cold may be, the nature surrounding him was breathtaking. He stroked the mane of his cream horse, running his fingers through the coarse white hair and down along the smooth silken body of the beast.

‘_Halam’shivanas_.’ he spoke softly to the horse, a smile on his face as he lifted his sparkling blue eyes to his surroundings.

_The sweet sacrifice of duty._

Kicking in his heels gently, the horse began to trot faster. Forming into a gallop, the wind rushed by as the rider made his way along the forest path and out into a clearing. There was a large field of snow and beyond a grand blue-stone manor who’s many windows glowed warm within. A welcome smoke wafted from the chimney, promising a hearty meal and roaring fire on his return.

Galloping along the path, the rider arrived at the entrance of the manor. Dismounting with a spring in his step, he handed the reigns to the awaiting seneschal.

‘Welcome back Ser Michel!’ greeted the servant with a gracious bow. ‘How was your stay in Halamshiral?’

_For two weeks Michel de Chevin had been savouring the delights of the Winter Palace, the heart of the Imperial Court in the darkest months of winter. Emperor Gaspard de Chalons had brought along six of the highest-ranking members in his military, all members of his Honour Guard, selected nobles from several favoured houses, and many politicians of the inner Orlesian council. It was a celebration for the success of their latest battle which had secured their hold on the Grove of Pillars, a rocky area on the north-east Nevarran-Orlesian border that had been overrun by Nevarrens. The portion of land was considered an ambiguous piece of crown land, with both Orlais and Nevarra never agreeing as to who held claim. The place was extensively rich in gold and served as a valuable mine for Orlais. Emperor Gaspard had gathered his army and met with Nevarran’s with brutal force. The Orlesians were victorious while Nevarran blood spilled like a river. Some viewed the victory as an omen that Orlais was stronger than ever. Others believed the victory proved that Gaspard simply took what he wanted, lacking the patience required of a ruler to negotiate with it's neighbours. What was apparent was Nevarra would not likely soon forget this hostile act._

‘It was a fine trip.’ observed Michel pleasantly ‘The Winter Palace is one of those few places that improves in charm during the colder months. I’ve many fine memories of staying there and this latest visit serves to be another one. Although perhaps I overindulged a little. Our glorious host Emperor Gaspard made sure our cups were full for two weeks straight!’

The seneschal looped the reigns around his hand, readying to take the horse to the stables. ‘To make your journey so early in the day? We expected you back this evening.’

Michel revealed a guilty smile, pointing to the trees in the distance. ‘I may have left even earlier from the Palace so I could enjoy a moment alone in the forest here on my return. I have missed this place greatly.’

‘Oh splendid Ser.’ exclaimed the seneschal ‘Did you find any sport in the forest?’

‘Oh yes, I found several coneys by the lake,’ replied Michel animatedly, his hands gesturing to paint the scene before him. ‘There were these wild birds that flew across the sky, their outstretched wings betraying a soft chocolate under-feather speckled with green. Three foxes dashed in front of my horse as I passed the frozen lake. They darted across the path and were a striking contrast of red to the frozen water. Like fire on ice. Yes, it was a marvelous morning for spotting game.’

The seneschal frowned, his head tilting to view the back of Michel’s saddle on which no game had been strung.

The half-elf patted the shoulder of the seneschal warmly and made his way up the stairs.

‘Better to let the forest keep it’s jewels.’ called back Michel.

Swinging the doors of his manor open wide, the Orlesian smiled at the sight before him. Bright candles lit the foyer, and beyond he could hear the crackle of a welcoming fire in the sitting parlour. Life was brimming in his home and he was all the more grateful for it.

‘Ser Michel!’ greeted his butler, drawing to the man’s cloak and politely removing it off his shoulders. ‘A fine morning to you. I hope you had a safe journey?’

‘I did, thank you Alexandre.’ replied Michel jovially, allowing the butler to help him out of his armour. The chevalier stood patiently and relayed tales of his trip as one by one the butler unbuckled his steel greaves, breast plate, cuisses, plackart, pauldrons, tassets, poleyns and couters. Finally, the heavy trappings were off and taken away, the butler keen to polish the wet steel before it had a chance to rust.

Michel moved his stiff arms and legs, aching from a long morning of riding in the cold. His white tunic and brown pants were soaked from the wet weather of the day and his butler was soon to notice.

‘I shall draw a bath for his Ser immediately.’ informed the butler, heading swiftly up to his chambers.

‘Thank you, Alexandre.’ called out Michel.

Running a carefree hand through his long blonde hair, the chevalier breathed in the sweet aroma of baking quiche and croissants. A popular Orlesian morning meal during the colder months and one that gave him great comfort. Michel was about to retreat to his bath when the sound of a harpsichord playing in the parlour distracted him. With a grin he tip-toed to the door, spying around the corner.

There in the elegant Orlesian sitting room sat a beautiful woman with blonde hair pinned high. Her long scarlet dress touched the ground, and cinched tight at her waist, with an ample breast revealing itself. Her skin was powdered snow white, and on one cheek a beauty spot lay. With eyes the colour of peacock plumes and lips as red as cherries, she sung softly as she played a melodic tune on the harpsichord, lost in another world.

‘Mon cherie.’ whispered Michel playfully, creeping up behind the woman.

The woman jumped in fright, clutching her heart as she began to laugh.

‘Husband, you frightened me!’ she exclaimed, jumping up to greet the grinning chevalier. ‘Finally, you’ve returned! Embrasse-moi!’

Throwing her arms around Michel’s shoulders, the pair warmly embraced. Michel’s hungry mouth fell onto the woman’s. His hot tongue plunged into a passionate kiss, such was the Orlesian way, and his hands eagerly touched her soft breasts.

‘There’s a bath upstairs waiting for me.’ Michel whispered playfully ‘I brought some oils in Halamshiral that we could use?’

_It had been a year since Michel had got down on one knee and proposed to Rose Antoinette Doucy, the charming daughter of Marquis Lothair Doucy. They had met at a particular low point in Michel’s life, having just returned to Orlais to recommence his duties as a chevalier in Emperor Gaspard’s Honour Guard. Michel’s return to court was celebrated by the Emperor and consequently all associated with the ruler. The chevalier threw himself into his work to distract from the painful memories of his time in Skyhold and Ferelden, yet to everyone else it appeared the Orlesian was extremely dedicated to his service. His skills as a talented chevalier were only succeeded by his growing reputation of being a man of great intellect and experience, sought for counsel many times by the Emperor himself. The Council of Heralds watched Michel with great interest, and soon he was invited to several of their soirees._

_Marquis Lothair Doucy was a senior member in the Council of Heralds, an extremely powerful council and final arbiter over all disputes involving titles in Orlais. Marquis Doucy introduced his daughter Rose to Michel and the chevalier found himself pleasantly distracted with the noblewoman. The chevalier courted Rose for eight whirlwind months before asking her father for his permission for her hand in marriage._

_It was considered a fine Orlesian match between noble families. Not that titles concerned Michel, although according to his uncle it was a triumphant match worthy of the de Chalons approval._

_Michel and Rose were wed in a large cathedral in Lydes, surrounded by friends and family, including the Emperor himself. Over four hundred guests attended and the wedding feast continued for three days straight with no expense being spared on food, wine and Orlesian entertainment._

‘Our guests are arriving in an hour.’ informed Rose sweetly, pulling away from Michel with a playful slap on his buttocks. ‘You wouldn’t want to make Comte Brevin de Chalons wait while we bathe, would you?’

Michel cursed in elvish. ‘You arranged for my uncle to come for brunch on the day I returned?’ he grinned ‘Why would you be so mean? Are you saying I’m to entertain him instead of you?!’

Rose giggled in delight at his playful outrage. ‘Mon cher you sent word that you would arrive this evening. It is your own fault for arriving back too early!’

Drawing his hands to her waist, the chevalier pulled the woman firmly to him. He continued to kiss her deeply, falling to the nape of her neck. ‘Just a quick trip upstairs.’ he whispered ‘_Mon dieu,_ I crave you. Do not torture me with brunch.’

‘I live to torture you, that is what wives do!’ teased Rose ‘But I am not a cruel woman. Later, _mon cher,_ I shall give you a proper welcome home. But for now, get dressed!’

Michel sighed, dragging his tired feet up the stairs to prepare for his guests.

_‘Halam’shivanas_.’ he muttered.

_The sweet sacrifice of duty._

********

Cullen shut the door behind Knight-Captain Arrus, leaving us alone in the room. The dull clash of steel could be heard outside the open window as templars trained in the morning sun, swords striking and yelling commands. It reminded me of days at Skyhold when I could hear the Inquisition soldiers training outside my window.

My attention drew back to the Commander as he returned to my side. No doubt he was about to apologise for what his insulting second-in-command had said to me. Arrus made no effort to conceal his vulgar dislike of mages and I felt uneasy at the thought that this was the man Cullen had appointed as his Knight-Captain.

‘Have you lost your damn senses?!’ Cullen asked sternly. ‘Maker help me, I can’t for the life of me know whether to be worried or furious over what has just taken place? You’ve both gone too far this time. Have you any idea what you have done? What this means?’

Or perhaps there was no apology coming my way.

Pointing to the door, I smiled uncertainly. ‘Should I just let myself out?

‘You think suggesting we use blood magic is funny?’ asked Cullen furiously. His hand fell to his side and swiftly unsheathed a dagger. Offering the blade to me, he looked into my eyes sternly. ‘Go on then, cast some blood magic for me. Show me just how far you’ve gone down this dire path.’

‘Stop being dramatic. I wouldn’t have the first clue as to how to cast blood magic.’ I scoffed, eyeing the dagger closely. Placing my hand gently on the blade I lowered it, eager to remove the weapon from this conversation. ‘Cullen you know I’m no maleficar. When have I ever practiced it? Never!’

The Commander sheathed the dagger before casting me a dark look. ‘You’ve done it before, we both know that.’

_Imshael. He was of course referring to the time I had performed blood magic to save Michel de Chevin’s life._

‘You know why I cast it that time.’ I muttered.

‘You see how the lines become blurred?’ observed Cullen. He sighed, rubbing his neck achingly.

‘Do you see?’ I frowned ‘We saved many of your templars from the red lyrium because the lines were blurred. It depends on the intention of the hand that wields the magic more so than the magic cast.’

Cullen stepped back in shock, as if my words has physically pushed him.

‘You think performing blood rites and drawing demonic power is an innocent form of magic if cast by a good person?!’ he growled ‘You’ve lost your fucking way, Trevelyan. Jowan is a maleficar and now you both promote the use of blood magic to the Templar Order? Do you realise what you have done on this day was utterly reckless? Do you realise we could have arrested you for this?’

Crossing my arms, I refused to budge. ‘Arrest me then.’

Silent and stern, Cullen refused to respond.

Laughing, I shook my head at him. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’

Leaning against his desk, Cullen crossed his arms. His stern face transformed into a laugh of disbelief. ‘Unbelievable.’ he muttered to himself. ‘You’re in a templar encampment, Mistress Trevelyan, and you’re speaking to the Knight Commander of the Order about using blood magic. What do you suppose could happen in this situation?’

Throwing the man an apologetic look, I knew this was far from ideal. ‘I realise this is the worst solution we could ever suggest to you. I never wanted to upset you Cullen. Jowan is just giving you the best advice to tackle this problem. Consider what he has told you. And try not to overreact when you know you are dealing with an enemy that uses the magic you despise.’

‘Come here.’ Cullen ordered, drawing another parchment from the pile on his desk. It held the red seal of the Divine, a symbol that I had grown accustomed to receiving from patronising correspondence at the hand of Leliana in days gone by.

Drawing closer to stand beside the templar, he nodded silently.

‘Good girl.’ he murmured.

Looking to him curiously, Cullen handed me the parchment.

‘This is an official letter from Divine Elizabeth publicly denouncing your Mage Order.’ informed Cullen ‘She believes your practices have strayed far from the Chantry’s views on magic and warns the faithful of your group. This was sent out to every branch of the Templar Order a year ago. The Divine’s opinion has not changed since then.’

Grabbing the letter in surprise, my eyes scanned the letter in disbelief.

‘Cassandra proposes a new Circle of Magi!?’ I read in shock ‘One that involves a looser form of a templar presence but nevertheless a templar presence? How could she say that after all we’d accomplished during the Inquisition?’. Shaking my head, I thrust the letter back at him. ‘She can’t seriously want a Circle of Magi.’

‘Yes, she does.’ acknowledged Cullen. He tilted his head, appealing to me with a softer expression. ‘You need to realise that you are not the Inquisition anymore. You had the power to liberate the mages of Ferelden whilst you were the Inquisitor but the Inquisition is over. You and Jowan cannot do whatever you wish in Skyhold. From where the Chantry stands, you are a mage rebellion and a dangerous one at that. You need to watch what you say and do.’. Cullen threw the letter on the desk tiredly. ‘Maker help me, I didn’t want this meeting to end in one rather large headache. This display of disrespect for our templars and the promotion of blood magic will only fan the flames. I’ll do what I can to prevent Arrus from mentioning any of this to the others but it’ll be a hard ask. The man’s passionate to his cause. And he now believes you and Jowan are practicing blood magic up in Skyhold.’

‘The Ferelden guard comes four times a year to inspect our Order to make sure we’re abiding by the arcane laws of Ferelden.’ I informed ‘You can tell Arrus that we respect the rules. Cassandra calling us a rebellion is a fair stretch from the truth.’

‘What’s the truth then?’ pressed Cullen ‘What truly are you doing up there in Skyhold?’

I groaned at the question. ‘We’re an order of mages that provides training for people with magical abilities. We have a specialist group of especially gifted mages that we are training advanced magic to, in our efforts to address the situation of Sapientes. The Chantry, The Templar Order, The Kingdom of Ferelden - we are all on the same side here!’

‘Yet three of those groups meet regularly to discuss this plight and your mage order isn’t one of them?’ pointed out Cullen dubiously ‘It would suggest we are not on the same side.’

I scoffed at the observation. ‘Politics and religious views is why our Order isn’t receiving invitations. It’s no secret that King Alistair was never keen on my departure from the crown to pursue this endeavour. It’s no secret the Chantry believes that magic is an abomination.’. Shaking my head, I still couldn’t believe it. ‘Cassandra, I should have known. So silent were her opinions on the mage’s liberation during the Inquisition and yet now I look back they were as clear as day. Once a Seeker always a Seeker.’

Cullen nodded, as if he too agreed. ‘They’re a group that fights against dark magic. Hunting down the darkest of mages. But the Seekers also go after templars that fail to perform their jobs. Which means we should both tread carefully where our current Divine is concerned.’

‘We’re not hiding anything from her.’ I grumbled ‘Cassandra knows everything about Sapientes that we do.’

‘Just because she knows of Jowan’s involvement with Sapientes doesn’t absolve him from his rather elaborate past.’ pointed out Cullen ‘Need I remind you it was Jowan who stabbed Cassandra in the chest with the intention of murdering her back in Skyhold? And then he cured her with blood magic, making a deal with a demon?’

‘Ah yes, I forgot about that.’ I grimaced.

Cullen looked at me sternly. ‘Cassandra hasn’t. The Chantry is well aware that a powerful maleficar named Jowan MacLothlorean trains the impressionable arcane minds of Thedas at Skyhold. Possibly in blood magic. And you, Ophelia Trevelyan, are an accomplice. In the eyes of Chantry you are just as bad as the one that wields the hand of darkness.’

‘Cullen you have to believe me, I swear I am telling the truth. There is no blood magic being performed in Skyhold.’

Subconsciously I lifted my hand to his forearm, appealing to him as I’d done many times before in Skyhold. Cullen turned to look at my hand in surprise and I pulled it back just as quick.

‘Ophelia, we share a history so I know you,’ observed Cullen ‘but men like Knight-Captain Arrus and many others in these ranks here and abroad will be waiting for any opportunity to hunt you down. The day you liberated the mages was the day you put a large Chantry target on your back. I cannot protect you if you and Jowan continue down this path. If given cause you will end up in The Aeonar and there will be nothing that even I can do about it.’

My heart sunk at him mentioning that place. What would Jowan do if he learnt that the place he lost his lover to was still imprisoning mages and those associated with blood magic? We had thought it had been transformed into just another templar encampment.

‘The Aeonar still runs as a mage prison?’ I observed darkly.

Cullen sighed. ‘Yes.’

Unable to know what to say to that, I turned away in shock. My eyes fell to the window and I looked out in desperation. Foolishly I ventured into this encampment believing things had changed. That mages were now free. How could that be when The Aeonar remained? A prison intended for mages who broke the Chantry laws. We were all still prisoners under the Templar’s watchful presence from afar. And like in the Mage Circles, all it took was a step wrong to land up in their shackles.

‘I don’t want you to protect me.’ I observed quietly ‘We only came here because Arrus invited us. You want Leliana back? You want a solution? Well here it is.’

Cullen’s steel boots tapped loudly on the wooden floor as he moved over to the fireplace. His hand moved to his neck, massaging his muscles. A mind plagued with a thousand worries, he stared into the blaze and grew lost in the orange flames.

‘My position affords me the privilege of knowing a lot of terrible secrets in the Order.’ informed Cullen quietly ‘That of mages who’ve performed horrific deeds. That of templars who’ve performed unforgivable acts on mages. I hear all and am loathed by the nature of both sides. I desperately fear the corruption blood magic would have on you Ophelia, but I also desperately fear the consequences of your actions. The Aeonar is a place of nightmares. I’ve never seen a prisoner stay sane after three months in that place. They are broken until nothing but a shell remains. Believe me, I have to protect you from a place like that.’. The templar sighed in defeat. ‘Perhaps that’s why circle towers were the preferred method of keeping mages in check?’

‘Do you want to see mages back in the circles?’ I asked suddenly ‘Do you wish to see us back in one?’

The Commander turned around with a raised a brow. He appeared amused by the question. ‘Don’t ask questions when you’re not ready for the answers.’

‘Do you want to see me locked up?’ I demanded, drawing closer to the templar. I could see he was now smirking and it made me all the more angry that he found amusement in such a serious question. ‘Do you find the thought of me losing my freedom funny?’

Cullen threw a wicked smile at me, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he leaned against the mantle of the pit.

‘As I said before, the lines get blurred. It’s not an ideal set up for mages and templars to be that close. But with you I could think of worse things?’ answered Cullen mischievously ‘You and me tucked away behind thick stone walls. Me training you to be the best you could be. What’s not to love about that?’

The templar chuckled, running his thumb sensually over his lip.

My eyes danced away and then back to the man. Did he just say what I thought he said? Rendered speechless, I turned away.

‘You did ask?’ he added with a shrug, noticing my reaction. 

My skin shivered from the cold coming from the window as I turned to face the fireplace once more. My hands slightly tremored as I held them to the heat.

‘I’m being serious Cullen.’ I informed quietly.

Cullen tilted his head, looking at me curiously.

‘_So am I._’ he replied softly.

Cullen gently reached out for my hands. My reaction of pulling away was met with templar grasping me quickly and less gently. His warm fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling me towards him.

‘Shhhhhh.’ he cooed, tenderly running his thumb against my palm ‘Come here for a moment.’

Cradling my outstretched hand in his large palm, the templar began to trace his fingers across the lines. Softly Cullen trailed the lines and then swirled circles. Intimately. He looked into my eyes deeply as he stroked my skin.

‘_Do you ever think back to when I used to fuck you in Skyhold_?’ he asked suddenly, as if it were a mere question like any other. ‘That incredible uncontrollable urge between us. Do you feel the incredible tension between us now?’

Closing my eyes, I knew exactly what he was referring to. That electrical pulse of energy between us, growing stronger and stronger the closer we came to each other. I opened my eyes to see him grinning at me.

‘It’s hard to forget, isn’t it?’ he observed.

‘Just a little.’ I confessed.

Cullen nodded, leaning closer to my ear.

‘Do you remember the first time you saw me up there in my loft at Skyhold?’ he whispered ‘Raging and asphyxiated while you spied on me. Me discovering our Inquisitor was just a devious little voyeur feasting on my erection from afar. I recall the first time I fucked you. Maker you have no idea how hard my dick was, standing there as you squirmed in your seat pretending to read your letters. Trying so hard to pretend you hadn’t enjoyed watching me rub my swollen cock over and over and over until I erupted all over my belly. You were drenched before I even touched you.’

'Cullen please.' I begged. 

Cullen grinned, running his thumb across his lip. ‘Hot sweat beading on my skin as I throbbed in your sweetness, moving into you until everything else just faded away.’. The templar moaned softly. ‘Maker help me, I could not get that out of my head no matter how hard I tried.’.

He ran a playful finger across my collarbone, teasing my senses.

‘Do you remember the times I bound you with rope? The times I rewarded you with drips of my seed and lashings of my tongue until you arched your back in a cry of pure euphoria. You were easier to control back then; you seem more defiant these days? I’d love to break you in again. You’d do well under my instruction with a firm hand and a hard sword between my hands.’

Maker make him stop. How could I ever forget all of that?

‘No, I never think about it.’ I lied, pulling back my hand.

The templar held onto my hand and refused to let go.

‘Liar liar.’ mused Cullen, chuckling at my response. ‘You’ve come back so defiant Ophelia. Walking in here with so much judgement and false bravado, as if you were untouchable.’. The templar stroked my cheek softly. ‘Maker help me I love that spirit but clearly you've lost your way. It’s time to remember who you truly serve.’

Scoffing at the man, I shook my head. ‘Back in Skyhold you may have got off on me calling you master but things have changed. These days you’re nothing to me. I am my own master.’

The Commander flashed me a brilliant smile full of amusement.

‘I like this side of you.’ he admitted, his hands suddenly dropping.

Caressing my waist, Cullen wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body flat against his. Feeling him so close to me caught my breath. His head tilted, sensing my breathing growing shaky.

‘Maker how I’ve missed you like this.’ he murmured.

‘Yet I clearly recall you leaving me in Redcliffe Castle and never turning back.’ I observed coldly ‘You can’t have missed me that much over the years?’.’

‘Would you have preferred I moved in to Denerim Palace with you, Alistair and the baby?’ pointed out Cullen dryly ‘I moved on because I had to. It was the right thing to do.’

Scoffing at the man, I stepped away from him. ‘Well so did I.’

‘Really?’ smirked Cullen ‘Who shares your bed these days? Is there some tat of a mage up in Skyhold I should be envious of? Some raggedy robed wizard with come-hither eyes I’ve to worry about?’

Rolling my eyes, I refused to answer the templar. ‘What about you? Dare I guess how many of the Crestwood ladies house your cock these days?’

Cullen chuckled, tapping his boot against the wooden floor. ‘Took me a year after we parted to realise how desperately I needed to purge myself from this role. Knight-Commander of the Templar Order is the highest rank in the fields. People put you on a fucking pedestal, as I’m sure you’re well aware of by now. And certainly there’s a glut of women to be had here in Ferelden, don’t get me wrong. Women who desperately crave the love of a templar. A Knight Templar? All the more desirous to make love to. But I don’t want to make love to them. I want to fuck you. All I desire is that uncontrollable mind-blowing ecstasy that we shared. And hearing you talk about blood magic before? It made me so angry towards you and so fucking hard I could feel my dick swelling beneath my damn armour. You’ve no idea. I need to ride you mercilessly like the war horses we trained this morning. Nothing else will suffice.’

‘So you want a mage to control?’ I mused ‘As in, your fantasy is essentially your role as a templar?’

His sandy stubble brushed against my cheek as he placed a kiss on my neck. Melting into his lips, my body responded by tilting my neck away and encouraging him to remain. Cullen continued to kiss my nape, moaning into my flesh as he kissed my neck more passionately on each contact.

‘What’s more natural than a templar wanting to perform his duties?’ he murmured between kisses ‘In close proximity with a mage and templar the lines get blurred and that is exactly what I desire right now.’

_Andraste preserve me………………………………………………_

‘I can't help feeling like you've clicked your fingers here and expected me to do your bidding. What if I'd ridden into Caer Bronach a year back without an invitation? Or two, even three years back? What would you have done if I said I needed to fuck you Commander?’ I quipped shakily.

The Knight-Commander looked seriously into my eyes. 'I would have thanked the Maker that you came back to me.'

Looking at the man curiously, I knew I had to ask the question.

‘Cullen, did you really want the mages to serve your cause? Or was this just about getting me to serve you once more?’

The Commander pulled my hand to him, bringing me back against his armoured chest once more. A barrier of steel between us but I could sense his desire hard against me.

‘In truth, I need you both.’ replied Cullen sternly ‘But only if you behave.’

His lips fell above mine as he drew me closer. That warm rush of breath, panting for more and yet Cullen refusing to connect mouths as he lingered. Playfully he smiled, his lips were so close now to mine that I could taste him. My body was crying out for him but I needed to resist. Cullen refused to allow me to escape. His hands bunched my hair behind my head and gently he reached out to stroke the back of my neck, inching me closer to his mouth once more. Yearning for his hungry mouth, my lips reach out for his as my eyes closed. I wanted to drown in his hunger. I needed him.

Cullen smiled wickedly and took a step back, releasing me from his grasp.

‘You’ll need to earn that.’ he informed. Raising a brow, he added deviously ‘You’ll come to see it in the end. One way or the other you will be bound to a templar once more.’.

With a pleasant smile Cullen passed me and opened the door, ushering me out to the roof top courtyard where a sea of templars adjourned for their morning break.

‘I must attend my duties now.’ Cullen informed civilly ‘You and Master MacLothlorean should consider staying a few days longer. We clearly need to discuss these matters further and come to a mutual agreement. I look forward to working with you in future days, Mistress Trevelyan.’

His amber eyes smiled wickedly at me as the door closed, leaving me standing there completely stunned.


	125. Spreading the Darkness

My racing heart pounded painfully as I stepped out into the courtyard of Caer Bronach. Sunlight fell on my shoulders and I could imagine Cullen’s hands on me. His lips reaching to mine. His warmth radiating towards me and threatening to drown me in his embrace.

What did it all mean?

‘It doesn’t mean anything, he’s just playing with you.’ I muttered in annoyance.

There had been a distinct lack of a templar presence in my life for the last several years. While Cullen appeared to have taken to his freedom in Crestwood like a duck to water I, however, had struggled. The first year separated was by far the worse. Missing Cullen as much as I did, everything served as a reminder of him. Cradling my newborn baby in my arms, I had ample time to reflect. And it hurt to know he’d gone away and he wasn’t coming back. 

Holding my hand up to the blinding sun above, I almost collided into a templar as I descended the stairs. A rather nervous looking young recruit informed me that my mage companion had ridden out from Caer Bronach. Judging by the tremor in his hands I was certain the encounter between Jowan and this templar had been a frightening one.

_On the rare occasion that Jowan got annoyed, he made it very well known to all._

With no notion of where Jowan had ridden off to, I determined the best place to go was the one that evoked the most emotion in the man.

Lake Calenhad.

A short ride from Caer Bronach, I approached the large lake along the Imperial Highway. There in the middle of the water stood the Kinloch Hold, a frightening prison tower if ever I’d seen once. My circle tower in Ostwick had been half the size of this one, and it wasn’t surrounded by a murky moat. As I reached the water’s edge, I could see the tower was too far to swim across to and yet close enough to remind all that the mages were securely imprisoned away from society.

Cullen and Jowan had both lived in that tower, templar and mage. Imagine Cullen and Jowan growing up together in there? Perhaps I did feel a little for Sierra Amell. She too had been caught between a rock and a hard place where those two were concerned.

My eyes caught sight of a contemplative mage sitting on the sandy shoreline in the distance, his hands resting on his knees as he gazed out towards the lake. I rode closer and dismounted, making my way to sit by his side.

Jowan barely acknowledged me as his eyes remained fixated on the tower.

‘How did you find me?’ he asked quietly.

‘I had an inkling.’ I replied ‘Are you okay?’

‘No.’ replied Jowan gloomily.

Plonking down onto the grainy sand, I ran my hands though the gritty black silt and grimaced. This definitely wasn’t like the soft sand of the shores of the Waking Sea. Even the sand and water here seemed harsh and unpleasant to be near. What a terribly foreboding place. 

‘And just when I thought I had a special knack for pissing off Cullen you come in and steal my thunder.’ I observed playfully, throwing Jowan a smile.

Jowan threw a sad smile back, nodding at the observation. ‘You forget I was annoying Cullen long before you came onto the scene. I know all the right buttons to push.’

Recalling the meeting that had just occurred, I couldn’t help but shake my head in disbelief. ‘Just for the record - you rode all the way from Skyhold to recommend blood magic to Cullen and then cast a spell on his Knight-Captain. Wait until I tell Varric that one.’

Pursing his lips, Jowan’s face grew solemn. ‘My son is in danger. This is his best chance. This is his only chance.’

‘I know.’ I murmured ‘We have to hope that Cullen comes to see it that way.’

The mage grabbed a flat pebble and tossed it overhead, where it landed with a plonk into the lake. ‘It doesn’t matter if Cullen agrees to it or not. We don’t need the templars for this mission…although they would serve us well as bleeders.’

‘Bleeders?’ I asked precariously, suspecting what it meant but fearing to acknowledge it.

‘We need blood and we need a lot of it.’ informed Jowan darkly ‘Templar donors would serve us well.’. He frowned, noticing my wide eyes. ‘You don’t have to sacrifice them. They just, well, give us their blood when we need it. Everyone can spare a little without any side effects.’

I grimaced, imaging Cullen’s reaction to that in addition to everything else. ‘That’s going to be a hard sell.’ I muttered.

Jowan sighed, clearly troubled at the prospect. ‘We need to go into the Nephilim Realm and destroy Sapientes. It’s not something I ever wanted to do. We risk so much more doing it this way. Never would have I agreed to such a mission until I read that cursed letter of Leliana’s. Now I know what Sapientes intends to do we have no choice.’

If there was any other way I had faith Jowan would have suggested it. Perhaps he was a maleficar but he was also a good man who loved his son with all of his heart. Cullen may have his doubts about Jowan but I certainly didn’t.

‘We’ll do whatever needs to be done to save Valahorn, okay?’ I reassured.

Jowan looked over to me with dark eyes. ‘Even if that means I ask you to perform blood magic? Would you become a maleficar?’

Hesitating at the concept, I looked across the lake to the Kinloch Hold. Overrun by abominations released from the Fade by blood magic. Was it irony that brought us here as Jowan asked me that dreaded question? According to everything that I’d ever been taught, blood mages were terrible people and the school of the maleficar was inherently evil.

I needed to put a positive spin on this.

‘Well Solas once told me that blood magic is no worse than any other magic if properly used?’ I observed diplomatically.

The mage scoffed at my reply. ‘Always dancing around the question. What do you think about it Ophelia?’

‘If that’s what it takes to save Valahorn then I’ll do it.’ I replied sharply ‘You forget, my child is also involved in all this prophecy. If this is what it takes to prevent a war in the future then so be it. I’ll learn how to cast bloody blood magic.’

Jowan bit his lip, smiling at me. ‘Bloody blood magic.’ he echoed with amusement. ‘You don’t know what that means to me. Don’t think I don’t see the sacrifice you’re willing to make here. Thank you.’

‘That’s what friends are for.’ I muttered, drawing into the sand with a stick I found lying nearby. ‘Making cups of tea. Borrowing books and never returning them. Crafting terrible birthday presents. Doing blood magic.’

‘Hilarious.’ quipped Jowan, picking up another pebble to throw into the water. This one landed on the sand. He frowned. ‘To venture into the Fade to destroy Sapientes is such an impossible mission.’

‘When faced with the impossible it helps to take it one day at a time.’ I muttered ‘Leliana told me that when I first became the Herald of Andraste back in Haven.’

‘Patience was never my strong suit.’ observed Jowan cynically ‘We must do this for Leliana. Who knows what she has suffered over the years? My son deserves to grow up knowing his mother.’

‘Can you train the mages? Our most gifted ones?’ I asked seriously ‘How many mages would we need?’

‘Many.’ replied Jowan. He rolled his eyes. ‘You must think me a terror. You know how important these mages are to me. I don’t want to teach them the art of the maleficar and yet they must learn it all. They must know it all if we’ve to stand a chance. Sapientes greatest mistake was teaching me how to control his kind. The magic is taxing and terribly dark….’. The mage’s eyes fell to the sand sadly. ‘Ethics and morality cannot play a part in this decision, not if I want to save Valahorn. Yet what lesson does that teach all our mages? We are giving them a taste of power that corrupts many. I’m no better than a Grand Cleric handing out lyrium to his brethren.’

‘The mages won’t be forced into anything they don’t want.’ I reassured ‘This will be their choice. As it is mine now. Those of us who choose to fight with you will be doing it of their own volition. And if they suffer for it, then we will do our best to help them later on.’

Jowan cast me a warning glance. ‘Be careful Ophelia. This power we offer will come at a price. I’ve shown the templars how weak they are when facing my magic. Imagine an entire mage army having that power? In the future the templars will make sure every one of these mages are hunted down.’. The mage sighed, shaking his head. ‘These mages will be changed. This magic changed me. I was ruthless for so many years. The taste of this kind power gives you a lust for life in a way you’ve never imagined. Everything you could ever want is at your fingertips. Mages lose their way with this surge.’

‘Then you will teach them how to respect it.’ I warned ‘And we will choose to teach only those that reveal strong and virtuous characters.’

‘Uldred offered to teach blood magic to the mages of Kinloch Hold.’ muttered Jowan, casting a stormy gaze to the tower. ‘Look what happened over there. The fool ended up being overwhelmed by a pride demon. What an idiot.’

‘By all accounts he was different to you in many ways.’ I argued.

‘Cullen no doubt has told you the tale.’ observed Jowan ‘If you’d have asked anyone in the tower before the attack they would have said Uldred was a good man. How easy it is to deceive those around you if you wish it.’

‘You made us cast blood magic without telling us.’ I frowned ‘With the templars possessed by the red lyrium. Why did you lie to me?’

Jowan threw me an apologetic look. ‘I’m so sorry, it was only way.’

‘You could have told me.’ I pressed ‘It wouldn’t have changed anything.’

The mage shook his head. ‘Oh, it would have. You must remember that I was Athalwolf Guildersleeve at the time. The wistful Orlesian mage that was mourning the death of a most beloved sister, who in turn was secretly Josephine. If you learned that I was practicing blood magic you would have suspected that I was indeed…me.’. Jowan sighed, shaking his head. ‘Madness.’

‘Just a little.’ I agreed.

‘My disdain towards Cullen and his Templar Order drove me to kill two innocent and good people.’ scorned Jowan ‘Mabel and Athalwolf Guildersleeve. I used the worst kind of blood magic to take their bodies for my own. Without a care I provided Josephine a body to use as she wished. I helped her drug Cullen so she could have him. You defend me to Cullen but he is right to despise me. I’m a terrible blood mage. And that mea-’

‘No stop right there.’ Pointing to the man sternly, I cut him off with a shake of my finger. ‘Wallowing in self-pity right now is not going to help your cause.’ I warned ‘Don’t let your past define who you are.’

Jowan scoffed. ‘That’s ridiculous, of course my past defines me. It’s my past. That is what shapes oneself.’

‘Then you’ll see you’re the blood mage that spared the lives of hundreds of templars from red lyrium.’ I adamantly replied ‘You’re the blood mage that saved Cullen’s life in that tower over there. The one that saved the Prince of Ferelden from drowning. You’re the blood mage that served the Inquisition and discovered how to make strong healing poultices that saved thousands of our people. You’re the blood mage who rose up on the Imperial Highway after we discovered the templars were rebuilding, and founded the first Mage Order. You gave the mages of Thedas purpose and confidence to train in the arcane arts without fear. You’re the blood mage that saved my life at Redcliffe Castle. That is who you are, Jowan MacLothlorean.’

The mage groaned, casting his eyes to the heaven’s. ‘Just because you dip a toad into sugar does not make it a sugar bun.’

‘You’re no toad, my sugar bun.’ I teased.

‘You are.’ teased Jowan. Flashing a smile for the first time, it appeared the sadness was now washing away from the man. ‘I suppose we should return to Caer Bronach and pack our bags? Can’t imagine Cullen inviting us to dinner any time soon.’

I shook my head. ‘You're wrong, they still need our help. He wants us to come to an agreement. Cullen’s asked me that we stay on for a few more days.’

Jowan laughed, believing I was joking. He paused, noticing my straight face. ‘What exactly did the Knight-Commander and Knight-Captain say to you after I left?’ he asked suspiciously.

Sighing, I arose from the sand. ‘Oh, nothing of any consequence.’. Reaching out my hand, I pulled the mage up to me. ‘Come on, let’s go.’


	126. The Return

Hot drips of acid fell from above as she bolted down the tunnel, eyes filled with terror as the sounds of hisses and snarls echoed close behind her. Breathlessly she screamed each time the abrasive drops fell onto her skin, melting their way into her flesh. The pain was unbearable but she knew she must ignore it.

Her shoulder brushed against the black wall that narrowed in on her as she desperately pressed forward. Crying out she tripped and tumbled to the ground, the rocks slicing her shins and palms like shards of razor-sharp glass. A blood curdling roar echoed in the passage as heavy feet vibrated the ground, chasing after her.

‘Move damn you.’ she urged herself desperately.

Picking herself up off the ground she ran further down the tunnel. Flicks of flame lashed at her heels, the heat burning her calves and yet she did not stop. Her feet moved faster, running with every ounce of stamina she had left in her.

Her spirits lifted as a dormant portal appeared in the distance. She moved towards it eagerly. It appeared to be an old relic, twisted in iron, like that of a mirror with no glass. With trembling hands, she ripped a pendant hanging from her neck holding one red stone. Her footing slipped as she hurled the necklace into the portal, but the stone reached the target.

A blinding flash of white light filled the portal as she fell into it, screaming as she passed through.

Falling……falling…….falling…..

THUD!

Howling in pain, her wrists slammed forcefully against the unforgiving stone floor of the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. The agony of the impact rendered her immobile, taking the air from her lungs. Her long ginger braid sank to the ground before her as she sobbed bitterly into the cold floor.

The morning sermon in the Grand Cathedral had finished, yet many remained in the cathedral for spiritual reflection. The peaceful silence of the congregation had been ripped apart by a terrifying scream as a woman fell from above. Fearfully some of the brothers and sisters of the faithful drew closer, their beige robes sweeping the ground as they rushed to her aid. Other members of the congregation kept a tentative distance, afraid by what had just occurred before them. They nervously watched on as the woman wailed into the floor. Inconsolable, she cried like a wounded animal.

‘My child, are you hurt?’ inquired one of the sisters, kneeling down beside the woman. The sister drew her hand to the woman but gasped in fright as she saw her face.

The woman on the floor stirred and her sobbing subsided as she drew a shaky breath. Her thin arms pawed at the ground, weakly pushing herself up with large terrified green eyes filled with watery tears. The deathly white of her face revealed itself to the crowd of gathering onlookers. It was smeared with dirt and bruises, cuts and grazes. She cast her wild eyes to her surroundings, ignoring the cries and whispers in the room.

‘The portal is gone.’ she whispered in delight.

Her attention turned from wall to wall, searching for any sign of light. She spun around, looking for anything but there was nothing in the stillness of the cathedral.

‘The portal is gone.’ she laughed hysterically, crumbling onto the ground once more. ‘The portal is gone. The portal is gone. The portal is gone.’

Delirious with relief, she began to sob once more as she curled up into a ball on the ground once more. Her wails drowned out the brothers and sisters of the Chantry calling out to her. They fell to their knees and prayed to the woman before them.

‘Divine Victoria has returned. Blessed be the Maker’s light. Divine Victoria has returned!’

******

On our trip back to Caer Bronach, Jowan pressed me further about what was said during the templar meeting after he had left. In his typical manner, he was unwilling to let the matter go until he had heard the full details. Perhaps I was a terrible liar because somehow Jowan knew there was more to it than Cullen merely wanting to come to an agreement between the templars and mages. Naturally I omitted the part about Cullen’s salacious confessions. Some things were too personal to share, even amongst friends. Instead I relayed what Arrus had said to me. By the time Jowan learned that the Knight-Captain Arrus had declared Valahorn was a threat to everyone, a furious glint appeared in his eyes. At the gates of Caer Bronach Jowan declared with a sharp snap of his fingers that our stay with the templars had officially come to an end.

Despite Cullen’s insistence that the mages and templars come to an agreement, we both knew it was all for naught. Our decision to go into the Fade and use blood magic was something the templars would never accept. And we knew it was unwise to linger in a place where Arrus, a templar of such high ranking, openly declared his mistrust of both of us.

It was time to leave.

Returning to his guest quarters, Jowan was determined to pack his bags and I left him to find Cullen, knowing the Commander deserved an answer and a goodbye. A surly guard pointed me in the direction of the tents on the northern field and I set off to find Cullen. 

Training tents circled the northern field, the canvas doors rolled up to provide glimpses of weapons, crates and stretchers holding several templars nursing their bandages ankles. As I made my way around the field, with no sight of Cullen, I continued towards an impressive red tent that stood at the end of the field. The field itself was scattered with wooden targets of all shapes and sizes – including a scaling wall that met the branches of the mighty oak trees lining the upper part of the field. Bales of hay were littered with steel arrows, and several broken shields lay cracked and discarded by a well-stocked weapon rack holding shiny steel. Enthusiastic templars were busy training on the grass, thrusting blades and blocking with shields.

My eyes scouted the area but could not see any Commander.

Suddenly a whistle came from behind me and I turned to see Cullen sitting at the entrance of the red tent. On a bench with a spinning whetstone, he appeared at work sharpening an axe blade. He waved me over with a smirk.

‘Come to see the men in action?’ called out Cullen, assessing the field behind me. ‘They’re strong. Even in the Fade I’d wager. You needn’t worry about that.’. He knocked his fist against the head of the axe he was holding to the whetstone. ‘This is made from Vyrantium Steel, all the way from the Tevinter Imperium. Cold steel infused with templar enchantments. It’s durable, light weight and resists chipping unlike most blades. A superior metal and you’ll find none stronger in all of Thedas. All our troops are equipped with it.’ 

The Commander sounded so confident and my heart dropped a little knowing I came to decline aid. A templar’s pride would never accept it was a lost cause to go fight Sapientes in the Fade. Their faith would be their demise.

I approached Cullen with a small nod, extending my hand to the whetstone. ‘You’re not busy, are you?’ I observed apologetically ‘I’ve just come here to let you know we’ve made a decision.’

Cullen patted the wooden bench he was sitting at, encouraging me to take a seat.

‘Indeed, so what have you and Jowan decided?’ he asked.

Throwing the templar an apologetic look, I shook my head. ‘We cannot help you on this mission. Jowan is packing our bags as we speak and we shall be departing soon.’

He pulled the axe head from the whetstone and retrieved a cloth. Cullen’s concentration fell hard on the weapon as he began to polish the steel. Appearing disheartened, he kept his focus on the axe rather than me.

‘That is unfortunate.’ he observed.

‘It’s not personal.’ I added quickly, causing the templar to look up curiously. My heart raced as we locked eyes and I hesitated. ‘For what it’s worth, I wanted to work with you again.’

Cullen raised a mischievous brow. ‘Is that so?’

Grinning at the man, I shook my head. ‘You binding mages with rope wasn’t what I meant.’

The Commander chuckled. ‘Maker help me, I don’t want to bind mages! Just you.’

‘I know you like to get a reaction out of me.’ I yawned, pretending I didn’t care. ‘Your lewd suggestions do nothing to me. Nothing at all. As I said, I’ve changed.’

‘Life is ever changing but I find people never change.’ observed Cullen pensively ‘In regards to the mages being unable to aid the templars, well you may think that this decision disappoints me but you’d be wrong. I’d rather you walk back up that mountain and never entertain the prospect of becoming a maleficar. I’d prefer you to be safe and uncorrupted by the vile nature of this magic. My only real concern is the company that you keep up there. To live in the pocket of a maleficar is a dangerous thing.’

Reaching to the bench, he grabbed a bottle of oil on the work bench. He poured a small circle onto a fresh piece of cloth and began to rub at the blade once more.

‘If you walk past Crestwood village about a quarter mile there are these castle ruins near Lei’Laughlin.’ informed Cullen ‘They say four white doves reside there. They are the Knights of Caer Lei’Laughlin, sworn to protect their master for an eternity. These knights were transformed by an evil mage who came to kill the Lord who once lived there.’

‘It was probably Jowan.’ I joked.

Cullen threw me a smile, chuckling at the comment.

‘I’ve missed your wisecracks.’ murmured Cullen to himself. He ran the cloth firmly along the blade, concentrating on the weapon. ‘You know, I thought of you often. Up there in Skyhold.’

Turning my attention to the templars on the field, I watched on as they rammed their shields at each other. Fearlessly they clashed steel with roars of aggression. Proud and unnerving, just as the man sitting beside me.

‘I thought of you too.’ I confessed, throwing him a small smile. ‘Not that I knew where you were? Somewhere out there in Thedas rallying the templars.’

The Commander sighed, rubbing the blade harder. ‘The truth is Ophelia; I left to forget about you. To start a new life that didn’t involve you.’

‘I figured as much.’ I replied ‘I didn’t exactly make it easy for you when I was around you.’

‘Nor did I.’ admitted Cullen ‘After everything that had happened I believed forgetting about us was for the best. Three years on and it’s never quite worked out. You still strayed into my mind. In my dreams.’

‘Yet you kept away?’ I observed quietly.

Turning to me in interest, Cullen appeared surprised by the question. ‘There was nothing to be done about it.’ he shrugged. ‘You had a husband and a child in Denerim. I didn’t want to break up a happy family.’

Scoffing at the comment, I was unconvinced by his sentiments. ‘What happy family are you referring to? Are you saying word didn’t spread like wildfire when I divorced King Alistair? Everyone from here to Seheron knew I’d divorced him.’

‘Of course I received word.’ muttered Cullen, eyes falling to the blade. ‘I find the templars gossip even more than your average soldier, and I in turn get an ear of it whether I care to or not. It was said you had left to rekindle the apostate rebellion in Skyhold. Knowing you, I suspected your undying dream for a free Arcane Guild of Thedas is what drove you. I had no notion of what you felt for Alistair or anyone else during those years? I personally was inclined to think you divorced Alistair for political reasons. Alistair has openly refused to support any notion of a mage Order re-establishing itself in Ferelden. That is well known by all. Perhaps the divorce served to allow you freedom to do what was restricted to a queen? Still there have been many rumours circulating that since you left Denerim you’ve returned enough times to make the locals think you still live there. So often I’ve heard too many rumours that you and Alistair as still lovers, a well-guarded secret kept behind closed doors.’

Mortified that I was still being gossiped about two years after that horrid divorce, I shook my head in disgust. ‘Are all Fereldens blockheads, or just your templars?’ I chortled ‘I frequent Denerim so much because I have a child there. Alistair and I share less affection than you do to that old rag you’re holding.’

Cullen chuckled in amusement, tossing the rag in the air. ‘That much eh?’

‘This is why I detest gossiping.’ I added darkly ‘My life does not serve to appease the bored troops. You can’t imagine the reception I received in court when I formally announced my intentions. Thank Andraste for Jowan. I was severely depressed. Severely isolated. He was there to carry me through that darkness. On the day I left, we rode out of Denerim and got heckled on the street. They were throwing rotten cabbage leaves at us. After everything that I did for those bastards during the Inquisition, none of it mattered. The people of Ferelden hated me for leaving their beloved king. They dubbed me the consort with a heart of stone. They said I was a wicked mother who did not love my child. They said a lot of things that stuck in my mind for many years.’

‘Cowards.’ muttered Cullen angrily.

Growing quiet, I shook my head to will away the hate I recalled so clearly. ‘You’re not the only one who makes sacrifices for the greater good Cullen.

Cullen placed his blade down and turned to me. Wrapping his hands over mine, he held them tight.

‘Four horses cannot overtake the gossiper’s tongue.’ informed Cullen wisely ‘Spread by fools and accepted by idiots. I’m sorry for what you had to go through.’. He sighed, as if frustrated by something unspoken. ‘For my part, I’ve felt so much guilt at what happened to you over the years. Back in Haven I was an experienced templar with many years of leadership under my belt when I first met you. But you…you were this apostate with no experience in life aside from the little experienced inside the circle. The Inquisition council used you as a pawn. Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine and I were all aware you were just a piece that we could move about to our best advantage. None of us could have rightly claimed the title of the Inquisitor for ourselves. Our former roles muddied the waters. No, it had to be you and we knew there would be a terrible price that you would have to pay.’

Catching a glimpse of his sorrow, it was apparent Cullen was truly remorseful.

‘All that what happened during the Inquisition and after pales in comparison to the day I had to leave Caerwyn.’ I muttered ‘Don’t feel guilty for you didn’t play a part in the greatest sadness I’ve had to experience.’

The Commander’s brow grew heavy. ‘That’s not entirely true and you know it. For what it’s worth I felt sorrow, true sorrow, when I had to leave Valahorn. For months I had held that child in my arms night and day and called him my son. I can’t imagine what it was like for you to leave Caerwyn but by the Maker I don’t think I ever want to imagine that type of pain.’

‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.’ I confided, the words choking in my throat. Even after all this time I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. My eyes grew red as I shook my head, refusing to show any more emotion. ‘Jowan and I would never have left Caerwyn and Valahorn in Denerim had we not truly believed the Mage Order would be fundamental in the success of defeating Sapientes. And we’d never have left them had we not believed they were safest there under the royal guard at the palace. To our everlasting frustration we knew that was what we had to do. We’ve trained with no outside support and worked hard to get where we are.’

Cullen nodded. ‘I know Ophelia.’

‘So why did you never contact me?’ I asked tentatively.

Roguishly he looked to the field before turning back with an artful raised brow. ‘You’re here now, aren’t you?’ Cullen mused, his amber eyes drawing to mine. ‘Who’s to say that I didn’t have a very large say in whether we ask for your aid?’

‘The Chantry needed our help.’ I argued ‘It was inevitable we’d be here together. Fate didn’t bring us back together. Me being a mage did.’

Appealing to the heavens above, Cullen playfully groaned. ‘You and your bloody fate. I had to convince Cassandra, the Templar Order and the Knight-Vigilante that the only way out of this mess was to ask your mages for help. That’s no small feat. They don’t like your group, not one bit. You have no idea. Cassandra wanted to make use of the Orlesian Circle, even the Antivan Circle was mentioned. Perhaps she was right? But I knew those mages were not trained in battle as your mages from the Inquisition had been. I knew those mages did not include you. So I convinced them your Order was the best chance we had. I believe fate wasn’t at either of those meetings.’

‘Was there another way to deal with this problem?’ I frowned.

Cullen appeared troubled by the question, rubbing his shoulder achingly as his mind dwelled on matters that I could not guess. ‘There was. It was suggested by Cassandra that we lure Sapientes into the realm and then fight. However it was considered too risky. Leliana would have remained trapped in the Fade and that is all the Chantry is truly concerned about. We must save our Divine. We believe we must do everything to bring back our Divine Victoria.’

‘What of Jowan’s suggestion?’ I asked quietly, my eyes lifting to his precariously. ‘All opinions aside, blood magic would serve you best in the Fade.’

The Commander turned to me with a frown. ‘Don’t Ophelia. I’ll never allow it while I’m Knight Commander of the Templar Order. I’m certain our former-Seeker-now-turned-Divine would whole-heartedly agree with me.’

‘That’s because Cassandra hates mages.’ I replied quietly under my breath. Looking to Cullen, I pursed my lips as he frowned at me, clearly having heard me. ‘Look, Jowan and I understand you won’t budge on this. Okay? But you have to realise we can’t provide you aid in this mission. We have a responsibility to our mages. Asking them to go into the Fade equipped with Chantry sanctioned magic will result in the slaughter of our men and women.’

Cullen ran a tired hand through his sandy hair. ‘Naturally we cannot force your Order to escort us. We must rally for the circle towers in Orlais to aid us and do what we can with their magic.’

Placing my hand on his armoured knee, I appealed to Cullen desperately. ‘You’ll die if you go into the Fade.’

‘I don’t intend to.’ replied Cullen. He chuckled, noticing how worried I looked. ‘Ophelia, I go to fight as a templar with a clean conscience. That is all I can ask for. And when I stand before the Maker he will know that my heart is true. There will be no blood magic on my hands and that gives me great comfort.’

Looking away, I pretended to be interested in the red tent behind me. In fact I was concealing the guilt on my face. I was so ashamed I could barely breathe. There was no way I could tell Cullen what Jowan and I truly intended to do. To secretly train our best mages in the dark arts. The Knight-Commander would never understand and would never allow us to return to Skyhold to start such a mission. Cullen would never see that our sacrifice in performing blood magic was for a greater good to protect our children. He would never understand that Jowan and I would do anything to ensure Caerwyn and Valahorn were safe in the realm. 

‘Why didn’t you come find me over the last few years?’ asked Cullen curiously.

Frowning at the question, I knew he had as much a right as I to be disappointed that we had both had kept our distance. 

‘You hated me Cullen,’ I answered ‘I was certain of it.’

‘At first I felt angry. Sad? Jealous? Despondent? Blaming myself?’ suggested Cullen ‘But no, hate was never on that list.

‘Well now I know.’ I observed dejectedly, standing up. ‘I should go. Can’t let Jowan wait any longer or he’ll turn Arrus into a pot of stew.’

Dolefully I left the templar to finish his work in peace. Trudging through the wet grass, the blades stuck on my boots and the damp soaked into the bottom of my cloak. It was a befitting march to represent my feelings at the present.

‘Wait.’ called out Cullen suddenly.

Leaving his axe on the bench, he swiftly ran up to my side. Surprisingly he ran very fast encased in steel.

‘There is one more thing I need to ask.’ Cullen informed, playfully nudging my arm with his elbow. Raising his hands to stop me from walking on forward, Cullen chuckled as I stopped in a rather boggy patch of mud. Cursing under my breath, I shook off a large chunk of mud from the heel of my boot.

‘Just perfect.’ I muttered. Smiling suspiciously at the grinning templar, I narrowed my eyes. ‘Okay you’ve successfully trapped me in a mud pit. What now?’

Running a hand through his amber waves, Cullen threw me a mischievous smile. ‘Postpone your departure until tomorrow morning.’ he proposed ‘Let me cook for you tonight. We’ve a lot to catch up on and I feel like we’ve barely been afforded any time.’

Hands on my hips, I scoffed playfully at the suggestion. ‘Dinner in your chambers at Caer Bronach? Do you think I’m that naïve?’

The templar raised a suggestive brow before bursting out in laughter. ‘Well yes, but I assure you whatever is in that filthy mind is not my intention. Wherever would get such ideas Ophelia? I’m truly offended! No, I’m just proposing a good hearty Ferelden meal. And for the record, I wasn’t inviting you into some seedy chamber room back at the Fort. I have a house. A nice one. Or well, I like to think so?’

‘Really?’ I exclaimed in surprise ‘You have a…house?’

Cullen shrugged, casting his eyes across the field. ‘Well Crestwood is where I’ve worked for the last few years. Here’s as good as any to make a life out of. I’m a Ferelden man of simple pleasures.’. He cast me a devious wink. ‘All I ever wanted was a roof and four walls on Ferelden soil.’

Unbeknownst I took another misguided step deeper into the mud, yet it didn’t bother me at that particular moment. All I felt was that creeping feeling of envy. Cullen had his own house._ A real one_. While I was bottling mead in a crumbling keep back in Skyhold, Cullen had established a life for himself. A home. Terrible as it was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see that part of his life? That was the part I’d wanted to share once upon a time. If I had to step into his home I didn’t know if I could ever step out of it and feel happy ever again.

‘How about we go to the village tavern?’ I suggested ‘You don’t need to cook that way?’

The Commander crossed his arms playfully. ‘I’ll have you know I’m a fine cook. My pea pottage and salmon are well loved by all.’. Cullen waved his hand towards the templars in the far-off distance. ‘Besides you know this is not the Inquisition. I can’t be seen consorting with you outside of business hours. At least my cottage affords a little privacy that I assure you does not exist in a Crestwood tavern full of eavesdropping templars.’

‘The templar order doesn’t allow you to have dinner with a mage these days?’ I observed dryly ‘Are we that terrible?’

His eyes flashed in warning, as if imploring me to see he was being absolutely truthful. ‘A templars duty is to keep a watchful eye on mages at a careful distance. Our charges, which is every mage in the lands these days, are not to be entertained. Not by the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order. And where you, the head of the Mage Order, is concerned. No. Definitely not.’

‘Preposterous.’ I muttered, deciding to ignore the part where Cullen had referred to us all as charges despite us being free. ‘Well Jowan wants to leave straight away. He’s most likely waiting up at Caer Bronach with the horse’s reins in his eager hands.’

‘So, he calls the shots on what you do?’ observed Cullen dryly ‘My my the man certainly does hold a lot of power these days.’

‘No,’ I replied in annoyance ‘but I think I’ll be hard pressed convincing Jowan to stay another night in the same fortress as Knight-Captain Arrus.’

The templar sighed. ‘Yes, those two should be kept as far apart as possible. Well I’m rather disappointed but I do understand. I suppose this is our farewell?’. With a gracious hand he presented it and shook mine. ‘I wish you a safe journey home Ophelia.’

Clasping his hand with a warm smile, I felt sad to leave. ‘Goodluck with your work here and please, stay safe.’. Squeezing his hand, I added cheerily ‘Who knows, maybe I’ll come visit you next time I’m passing by?’

The Commander’s eyes turned to the field, where the templars were now practicing archery with their backs to us. He grinned, pulling me towards him as he turned his back to the field. Cullen’s large hands clasped my jaw gently as he tilted his head and planted a deep kiss on my mouth. The sweet scent of sandalwood overwhelmed me as he held me close, kissing me several more times. His lips were soft and welcoming and his hands held my face with passionate enthusiasm. The soft pink of his tongue teased between my lips, and then explored deeper for a lustful second. When he pulled away, his eyes smiled wickedly into mine.

‘Maker how I desperately wanted to do that.’ Cullen smouldered as he pulled away swiftly from me lest anyone notice.

‘Did I finally earn that then?’ I mused, recalling the last time he had teased me with the prospect of a kiss that never came.

Cullen nodded, cheerfully tapping me on the nose. ‘Yes, for being a good mage and not further entertaining any of this blood magic nonsense.’

_By Andraste….._

‘Okay dinner tonight it is.’ I informed hastily, trying to divert his attention from that last observation. ‘Jowan can kill me later. Where…exactly do you live these days?’

Cullen smiled, clearly pleased at my change of heart. His amber eyes sparkled as he nudged his head back to the tent.

‘It’s near the village, come I’ll draw you a map.’


	127. Let Love Bloom

As the veil of twilight settled on the village of Crestwood, I ventured out with a cloak pulled over my head. It was easy to travel unnoticed at such a time of day, yet somewhat harder to read a map. After several wrong turns, and many curses, I finally made it to my destination.

Along a cobblestone path, five houses down from the old mill, there resided a thatched cabin made of Ferelden red wood. Similar to many of cottages in the village, this one had a small wooden fence surrounding the cottage and a gate that opened onto a path of large flat river stones leading to the front door.

With map in hand, I examined the cottage dubiously. It looked too pleasant a place for a soldier to have lived. There was ivy climbing up the wall on one side, and flourishing bushes of rosemary and lavender grew in front of the windows. Tapping the map in my palm, I questioned whether I was in the right place or if this had been some elaborate joke of Cullen’s?

_Tap, tap, tap._

I knocked three times, humming a nervous tune to myself as I waited for the door to open.

Hours prior I had returned to Caer Bronach to inform Jowan of my intentions to stay on another night in Crestwood. After mumbling to him something about Cullen and dinner, the mage’s demeanour grew icy. With pursed lips and picking lint off his sleeve, Jowan turned to fling his pack on his horse and rode out. He called back to me that he would book two rooms at the Crestwood tavern for one night and I dare not be late meeting him outside the tavern at sunbreak where we would head off to Denerim Palace.

With a bright smile, Cullen opened the door to greet me.

‘There you are! At last!’ he exclaimed.

His lack of formality caused me to grin. More often than not Cullen was wearing armour and one couldn’t help but see him as anything else than a Commander. This evening however he was dressed in a relaxed beige cotton tunic with a rounded neck line that opened to reveal the slight bulge of his tanned upper chest and collar bone. His pants were of a dark weave knit, and he wore soft leather boots. His sandy hair was slightly wet and tousled, as if he’d just bathed, and a fresh scent of fragrance lingered. Patchouli perhaps? Maybe a dash of orange?

‘A fine evening to you.’ I greeted, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

‘Fine indeed! It appears you can read maps after all? I guess you have changed!’ jested Cullen, allowing me to pass into the house. ‘Come in, I’ve just taken the skillet off the fire, so dinner shall be ready in a moment. My apologies, the market sold out of fish by the time I finished work, but I managed to get some exquisite cuts of venison. And I bought us a miller’s loaf and some farmer’s cheddar. The local produce here is so wholesome, reminds me of what I ate growing up in Honnleath. Oh, and wait until you try the honey, I stewed it with some pears and spices. You put it on this sweet cake I bought from the baker and honestly, it’s the best thing you’ll ever eat.’

‘Did you buy up half the market for dinner?’ I teased, stepping into the cosy dwelling. ‘You never cooked back in Skyhold and look at you now? Culinary Cullen.’

The templar rolled his eyes at the pun. ‘Glib mage jokes are to be left outside.’

Eagerly I cast my attention to the inside of the cottage, keen to see how Cullen lived. The dwelling had three rooms from what I could see. The main room where I stood served as a living area. A large red and blue carpet lay on the wooden floor and many swords adorned the walls. I noticed his Inquisition blade amongst them. There was a welcoming fireplace with a grate and mantelpiece, a breakfast table beside it, a bookshelf filled with books and wine bottles as book ends, and large wooden tub in the corner. From the glimpse of a bed in the adjacent room, I could see there was a bedroom. Most likely Cullen’s. And the other adjoining room appeared to be a small kitchen, where another fire was lit, with several pans hanging above and cuts of ham hung from hooks above to catch the smoke from the blaze.

‘Do you like it?’ asked Cullen, noticing me silently examining the house. ‘I grant you it’s not much, but it’s home.’. He rubbed his jaw patiently waiting for my answer, and then began to laugh in anticipation as I failed to comment. ‘Maker don’t tell me it’s that bad. Does the furniture clash? I was rather hoping it did. I cannot abide Orlesian décor, it’s uncomfortable and impractical. You’ll be hard pressed to find a golden dressing table in this house.’

Looking around, I was overwhelmed by the warmth and comfort radiating from this place. The feeling was foreign, although I likened it to being my room in Skyhold when the fire was roaring at night and I was tucked up in a bed of blankets. I wasn’t certain what a real home should feel like but something in my heart told me this was it.

My eyes turned back to the fireplace where a wooden breakfast table and chairs sat beside it, and two places lay ready to be served with food. On the table four beeswax candles burned on either side of a large mug filled with wild flowers, freshly picked from the fields. A delicious smell of a tantalising food enticed me, and I turned to the kitchen in the hopes to catch a glimpse of the meal.

_I froze._

By the kitchen I noticed a wall hanging, embroidered with delicate yellow and white daisies, with romantic cursive words stitched in pink thread; _Let love bloom._

Turning to Cullen I felt my heart sink. It shouldn’t have mattered. Indeed, it really shouldn’t have mattered. But before I could even stop myself my eyes began to moisten. I ran my sleeve to blot them.

‘Ophelia?’ inquired Cullen, puzzled at my silence.

Turning away, I took several deep breaths. I could control myself. I didn’t need to let this affect me. Looking back at the man, I desperately tried to nod my head with a feigned smile.

‘It’s…wonderful.’ I choked, before bursting into tears.

Cullen drew closer and placed on concerned hand on my arm. ‘My goodness, what is it? Is the house that offensive?’

‘That wall hanging.’ I wept, pointing to the offending piece. ‘Everything in this house represents you, except for that. Only a woman would make such a thing. A woman that clearly loved you.’

His amber eyes turned in confusion to the wall where he too became aware of the wall hanging. ‘Why yes, I suppose she does?’ observed Cullen, slightly baffled ‘She wanted to add a bit of softness to my life so…well, I couldn’t rightly not display it considering all the effort she put into making it.’

Falling into my palms I began to sob again. I felt ashamed at how upset I was getting but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Some lady who dearly loved Cullen had made that for him. They shared a story and a life together in this home. That woman loved Cullen and that woman was not me. I had no claim over Cullen but I felt so jealous.

‘Where is she now?’ I asked miserably ‘Does she know you have company tonight? Is she to dine with us as well? Is it your wife? By Andraste you’ve married, haven’t you? Why didn’t you tell me you’re married!?’

‘What? I-’ Cullen stopped himself from speaking as he realised what I was implying.

Throwing me a smile as he drew me close and hugged me affectionately. His strong arms wrapped around me as he held me tight.

‘Ophelia there is no one else.’ he reassured so kindly that it almost sent me sobbing into his chest. Pulling away just a little, Cullen looked down at me with a grin. He nudged his head to the wall hanging. ‘Mia, my sister, made that for me. She says I’m a frosty lug so naturally her solution was to stitch that ridiculous tapestry over there and gift it to me for my birthday. She comes to visit four or five times a year with my niece and nephew, I’ve no option but to display the damn thing. She has me over a barrel on this one.’

‘I’m so embarrassed, I should just leave now.’ I cringed, covering my face as Cullen chuckled. He pulled me close and hugged me again, allowing me to drown in his arms.

‘No, you’re just not a tapestry enthusiast; it’s completely understandable.’ joked Cullen. Turning to the table, he beckoned me to follow. ‘Come on, have a glass of wine and forget about the condescending wall hanging that mocks we who refuse to let love bloom.’

The templar pulled out the chair for me and I sat, my cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

‘I’m sorry Cullen, seeing you here living in this house just got to me a little.’ I explained, gladly accepting the glass of red wine being poured. ‘Bet you weren’t hoping to cook dinner for such a blubbering mage tonight?’

‘Actually I’m quite fond of blubbering mages.’ admitted Cullen, swilling his wine as he seated himself at the table. ‘You haven’t changed a bit, thank goodness.’. He took a sip and his eyes closed in pleasure. ‘Maker forgive me but this drop is vintage and well worth the excessive coin. Mind you it’s no _Mead of the Magi Monks_ but we can’t all be privy to such delicacies.’

Grinning at the comment, Cullen pointed at me with a grin of his own. ‘A smile at last, finally.’

‘Have you tried our mead?’ I mused ‘It’s rather good.’

Cullen winced, as if the words physically hurt his ears. ‘I hazard a guess it’s bulk grog manufactured by Varric, no doubt brewed in some dirty bathtub, with a dash of magic potion swilled into it for good measure. I shall pass. Besides it’s contraband here. If you’re caught with the stuff it’s fifteen lashings.’

My eyes widened in outrage. ‘Why on earth is that!?’

The Commander raised an unimpressed brow at me. ‘You think my men should be able to drink _Magi Monk’s Surging Bull Love Stamina Potion_ while on duty? Because they do and it gives them stamina no doubt about it, but also a stonking boner I’d rather not be privy to.’

Spurting into my drink, I broke out into laughter.

The Commander smirked, taking another sip. ‘Whose brilliant idea was it to make that particular potion?’

Placing a contemplative finger on my lip, I pondered the question. ‘Well it’s true, Varric does brew the mead in an apiary he bought in Orlais. Not in a bathtub…but then again I can’t be sure of that? He sends up barrels of it to Skyhold so Jowan and I can bottle them and tweak the different bottles according to our range. Jowan is the master alchemist here, I merely follow his recipes. We came up with _The Surging Bull Love Stamina Potion_ because we knew there was enough randy folk across Thedas who would jump at the chance to shake sheets all night long and pay the price for it. And without sounding crass, all we care about is the coin. We need it to support our mages.’

‘Smart, very smart.’ applauded Cullen ‘So tell me, have you tried it?’. He smiled mischievously, waiting for a reply as he rolled his glass in his hands. ‘Do you shake sheets all night Mistress Trevelyan?’

‘Heaven’s no!’ I laughed ‘You think Jowan and I taste test the products? No Varric has a product development team in Kirkwall. Most likely some drunk bastard at The Hanged Man. It’s probably Varric himself?’

‘So, you and Jowan….?’ suggested Cullen suspiciously, rolling his hand as if implying something untoward.

Waving a hand at the man, I dismissed the ludicrous suggestion. ‘What in the world are you getting at now?’

Cullen raised a brow. ‘I’m not sure what to think of the pair of you? By all accounts you’re inseparable. Two peas in a pod with snide observations and dry mage wit.’

‘We try our best.’ I toasted, taking a sip of wine.

‘At Skyhold you’re running the Order together, alongside running a questionable distillery.’ observed Cullen ‘You share a study in the war room. You teach alongside each other. You always eat together in the main hall, and have elevensies in the courtyard gardens.’

Looking up sharply, I was shocked. ‘How in the blazes did you know all that?’

Cullen rolled his eyes. ‘Watchful templar presence from afar. You needn’t worry, we only require reports from the Ferelden guard. The reports are detailed.’. Ignoring my affronted expression, the Commander continued. ‘In Denerim, you’re raising children together. Traveling together, working together…. sleeping together?’

‘So this is what you mean about keeping a watchful eye on the mages.’ I scoffed ‘Spying on Jowan and I, eh? Bet that was be disappointing when you found out we retire each night to a big cup of chamomile and a nice book by the fire.’

His amber eyes watched me with intrigue, as if trying to determine if I was being truthful. ‘You and he are attached at the hip though, you must admit it?’ observed Cullen ‘Even here at the Order I’d never be working that close with another templar.’

Snorting at the comment, I held up my glass for more wine. My eyes lifted to a silent Commander and realised he truly believed there was more to it. ‘Jowan’s my best friend and like a brother to me. I’m not sleeping with my brother.’ I scoffed ‘Yes perhaps we’ve turned into two hermits, more interested in our duties than having a social life. But it’s Skyhold, there’s not much to do outside of work except bottle mead and develop strong friendships.’

‘Well I’m glad to hear it.’ informed Cullen nonchalantly, ‘I thought I’d ask just in case there was some special maleficar in your bed these days. As to working excessively? Well that I can relate. My time in Crestwood has been a labour of devotion. Despite what you see now, Crestwood was little more than a few huts when we arrived. We had to rebuild this place with our bare hands, alongside training the many initiates that came along. Yes, the Knight-Commander role keeps me busy day and night.’

‘Did you really mean what you said? I asked a little quietly ‘That there is no one else in your life?’

‘There’s no one else.’ reassured Cullen ‘I’m not the tormented soul that I was in Kirkwall, lusting after anything to deal with the shit going on in my head. I suppose you could say I’m at peace here in Crestwood? Like I said, there are women to be had but I’m not interested in that.’. He paused, looking at me seriously. ‘I want you, I meant that.’

Rolling my eyes, I pointed an accusatory finger at the man. ‘I believe your exact words were; I don’t want to make love to them. I want to fuck you.’

Grinning into his glass, Cullen took a long drink of the crimson wine. ‘Doesn’t sound like something I’d say?’

‘It sounds exactly like something you’d say.’ I laughed ‘Unless it was Arrus? Maybe I’m confusing you with Arrus?’

The Commander laughed, clinking his glass to mine. ‘Maker help you if that’s the case. I couldn’t think of a worse pair. Well, maybe he and Jowan?’

‘Why choose Arrus as your Knight-Captain?’ I frowned, wondering why in the world Cullen chose him as second in command. ‘He’s rather…hateful?’

‘Not really.’ dismissed Cullen ‘He’s a fine Knight-Captain and reminds me of myself as a young templar.’. Noticing my concerned look, Cullen shook his head. ‘No I mean, he’s extremely dedicated to the cause. His whole life is Caer Bronach, you can see that passion each day as he works here. While the other templars retire for the day, Arrus continues working late into the night. While the templars indulge in their outside privileges, be it family, booze, cards or whatnot, Arrus keeps himself busy with his work.’

‘That makes him obsessive, not necessarily a good templar?’ I argued ‘And not necessarily a good person when it comes to dealing with mages?’

Cullen waved off the comment. ‘I admit his opinion of mages is somewhat lacking. He should never have said what he did to you during our meeting. No matter, he was reprimanded for that. But when all is said and done, he’s a fine Knight-Captain.’

Laughing into my wine glass, I couldn’t help myself. ‘Jowan calls him a pasty rat.’

Cullen rolled his eyes. ‘Maker how he became so powerful I’ll never know? Well actually I do. Dare I wonder what he calls the rest of us?

‘Probably best not to.’ I teased.

‘Excuse me for a moment.’ Cullen exclaimed suddenly, retreating to the kitchen ‘I almost forgot we have dinner to eat!’

Soon the Commander returned holding two plates piled high with food, and all the garnishings imaginable. Before I knew it the table was covered entirely with Ferelden delicacies, and we feasted away merrily as can be. We talked for hours and laughed so much that soon we forgot about all the sadness that ever touched our lives. Perhaps Cullen was right, maybe people never changed? Then again, I’d never seen either of us so happy as on this evening.

Well-fed and still laughing at a particular story I had told about Varric dressing up as a monk, Cullen and I settled on the rug before the fire. Using his teeth, he uncorked another bottle of red and poured another glass for us both. 

‘So let me get this straight.’ chuckled Cullen ‘Varric dressed up in a monks outfit and insisted everyone in your guild refer to him as Brother Han Some. That’s a lie, surely that never happened!?’

Unable to keep a straight face, I nodded desperately. ‘I swear it’s the truth! When customers arrived, we directed them to Brother Han Some and he took them on a tour of the distillery.’

‘Which you mentioned was in Orlais?’ mused Cullen.

I tapped my nose. ‘We made a fake distillery in the southern wing. It has barrels and steel pipes, everything you need to convince someone who knew nothing about mead production. And Varric knows how to spin bullshit. These customers love the tour. Varric even blesses them on their way out.’

Bursting into laughter, Cullen was clearly entertained by the antics of the rogue. ‘Maker I don’t envy you up there in Skyhold, not one bit.’ he chuckled ‘Although I do miss some things. The games of chess we used to play? Other games?’

His fingers brushed against my leg, stroking up and down in a sensual manner. Taking a sip of wine, he grew silent as he looked at me. Leaning forward he placed a kiss on my lips, grinning as he pulled away.

‘I miss doing that.’ confessed Cullen slyly.

‘I miss a lot of other things also….’ I admitted, drawing back to the templar’s face. My lips lingered at his ear as I whispered ‘…like taking all your coin when you lose Wicked Grace.’

The Commander chuckled, taking a sip of wine before placing the glass beside the fire. He leant over and kissed me again, lips awashed with crimson. His weight gently, yet firmly, pushed me back to lay on the rug as he crawled over me. Face to face, his body threatening to crush mine yet his strong arms held himself above. I felt the warmth of his body over mine, and his waist pressuring onto mine.

‘Would you stay the night?’ asked Cullen devilishly ‘Or shall I escort you back to Crestwood Tavern?’

Before I could answer he continued the kiss, sinking into my mouth as his hands crushed handfuls of my hair behind my head. My legs wrapped around his body, and I could feel his hardness against my stomach. Hungrily his lips fell to my neck as his fingers rolled up my top. His warms hands on my bare skin, he moaned as I reached for his manhood outside his pants, running my hands over the bulge in his trousers.

‘Maybe I should go?’ I teased, rubbing his hardness.

My hands fell into his trousers, my heart beating in delight as I felt the heat of his manhood. Wrapping my hand around his hard cock, I used the other hand to pull his pants down over his buttocks.

‘Maybe you should?’ grinned Cullen, straddling me half naked with his dick full mast. He pulled off my top, casting it aside. ‘There’s nothing much more to do here.’ he added wickedly, pulling off my boots one by one.

His hands were deft and pulled off his shirt with an elongated stretch, displaying his chiseled arms with sandy tufts of hair under his large armpits. His torso was ripped with muscles, so tight it made me shiver with excitement. A warm yearning pulsated through me as his bare chest fell against my breasts. Cullen embraced me, drawing me to him as he kissed me hard on the mouth. His passion was feverish and built up as he crushed his mouth on mine. I melted into his arms as he ran his hands across my breasts, squeezing them eagerly before engulfing each peak with his mouth.

‘Maker these are bigger than I remember.’ he murmured, feasting on the fullness before him. His palms cupped and squeezed in delight, his dick twinging every now and then.

‘A boon for having a child.’ I observed, rolling my eyes. For some reason my small chest had developed into large bosoms and remained so after the birth of Caerwyn. I wasn’t too fussed, but it seemed the templar now hungrily devouring them was. ‘My stomach has somewhat changed also.’ I added dryly ‘Stretched lines and all. I’m sure you can see?’

‘Not from where I’m standing, I love your stomach.’ Cullen murmured, running his hot mouth across my abdomen. ‘You carried a child in there. Those markings are a sacred reminder from the Maker of your divine role.’. He kissed along the lines softly. Sensually.

His lips kissed up my stomach to my chest and his dick twinged as he pressed his fingers into my breasts, sucking hard on my nipples with a rolling tongue.

‘By Andraste you’re a sight for saw eyes.’ he murmured, pulling off my trousers so he could feast his eyes below. He growled in delight as I lay there naked before him.

‘Are you forgetting something?’ I remarked, looking at the pants half way down his legs. ‘Take it all off Knight-Commander, and that’s an order.’

Bare chested he grinned back, kicking off his boots and trousers to reveal his full nakedness. Muscled and toned legs stood hard and his tanned chest rose and fell. His abdomen was rippled, and traced to a v from his hips, and further the light sandy hair and a large thick cock saluting me.

‘So, there’s something I’d like to know?’ he asked mischievously, rubbing his cock up and down slowly.

‘What?’ I replied, unable to tear my eyes from his raw body.

The Commander crawled over me, his cock prodding me on my abdomen. ‘Would you like me to make love to you, or fuck you?’ he growled, placing a more savage kiss on my lips.

‘What do you think?’ I quipped, pulling his waist as he fell on top of me, bodies crushing as he kissed me furiously.

The urge was wild as we devoured each other. We couldn’t play around, not this time. Not when the need was unbearable. His fingers fell to my clit, teasing my pulsing pearl and spreading my lips before pushing in with his digit. I moaned at the feeling of him touching my most intimate parts. Two of large fingers dipped deep in me, checking to see that I was ready. Smearing the wetness, he growled.

‘Maker help me, I’ve dreamt about you too many times to know if this is real or not.’ he breathed heavily ‘Your skin is so soft and you’re just melting for my dick.’

His hand firm on his raging hardon, Cullen rubbed the head of his cock on my clit before he eased himself in. My lips moaned with pleasure and my back arched, exposing my neck, as I felt his girth push up into me. Cullen’s lips hungrily fell to my neck as his hips pushed harder, until his entire length was forced in.

Penetrating deep, Cullen groaned into each slow and buried thrust. His kisses grew deeper as he thrust, falling almost desperately at times between my mouth, cheeks, neck, nose and forehead. Losing himself in his animalistic desire to fuck, he became lost in his rutting. The feeling of his hard cock pulling out and then thrusting hard back in was too much. I wanted to drown in that sensation of his hardness ramming up in me. Clenching at him, I could tell my body wanted to squeeze the seed out of that dick.

‘Uh-uh.’ chastised Cullen with a grin, pulling out. He knew I was getting close. ‘Not yet.’

He flipped me over onto my hands and knees, mounting me again from behind. I could feel his chest lightly on my back and his breath at my ear.

‘Can I release in you?’ he whispered ‘Or do you wish me to withdraw?’

My head spun at the question. My body was screaming for him to burst inside of me, but my head feared tempting the fate of a child ever again. Then again, I had my herbs?

I knew what I wanted right now.

‘Come deep inside me.’ I mewed, pushing against him as he entered with a grunt.

His hands ran over my ass, pressing into the flesh of my buttocks and thighs. Cullen moaned, thrusting again. He continued to run his hands over my backside, slapping my skin with loud smacks. Each time a sharp sting came he thrust harder.

‘Oh Maker.’ he breathed loudly through each thrust.

Suddenly his hand wrapped around my throat lightly and the other grabbed my hip. He began to thrust deep and more forcefully. His penetrations were rough, forcing my body forward as he unleashed his stamina yet holding me back with his hand. The pressure of his hand around my neck caused me to gasp each time before he ploughed into me hard. His dick swelled and by his breathing I could tell he was close, trying to stave off the inevitable.

Every time he penetrated now, I began to clench around his cock. The man hit me deep in that sweet spot that made me quiver and come, small at first and then greater and greater until I cried out. Finally it was too much and I clenched hard on his cock, opening myself up to whatever he had to give. That moment I surrendered myself completely to him.

Cullen’s hands withdrew to grasp my hips as he ploughed into me furiously, unleashing every part of his stamina. He groaned like beast as his cock erupted, pulsing his seed deep. He held onto my hips, grunted deeply as he emptied his cock in several spurts. Instinct made him hold me tight as he buried his dick as far as it could, allowing me to milk his seed.

Collapsing onto the rug, Cullen chuckled as his rested his forearm against his head. The man looked spent.

‘That was so good.’ he murmured dreamily.

Rubbing my hands on his chest, I curled up beside him. The feeling of Cullen here beside me made me feel alive. Being here with him felt like I had finally come home.

‘Best dinner ever Cullen.’ I murmured back, a smile on my face.

*****

Warm rays of light spilled through the window of the cottage in Crestwood. Never had I had such a peaceful sleep, and when I awoke felt refreshed. Rejuvenated. Like I could take on the world and nothing and no one could get in my way. And seeing the naked man lying on his back beside me, I felt more than a little roused.

The Commander stirred in his bed, dreamy eyes opening with a smile. Stretching his arms above him, he yawned.

‘There’s a sight for sore eyes.’ he grinned, playfully looking up and down at my naked body.

‘So is that.’ I teased, witnessing his morning glory full mast.

He chuckled, resting his hands behind his head. ‘The good morning salute.’

Crawling over his legs, I grabbed his throbbing erection. Stroking it up and down, Cullen breathed in deeply as I played with him. He drew his eyes shut as I rubbed him up and down, relishing his warmth in my hands.

Unable to resist, I drew closer to his dick and took the head of his hardness into my mouth, rolling my tongue across the smooth bulb. Cullen’s chest arched in bliss as I sucked him deeper. He moaned a bestial moan, bringing his hands to hold me onto his dick. Salty warm seed leaked onto my tongue, but only a little. Heat and hardness, musky and masculine, I loved to feel his body stiffen as I took his manhood in and out of my mouth. His arousal grew, and his hips become more urgent as they thrust up. Cullen groaned loudly, sitting up to kiss me.

‘No more, I can’t…Maker’s breath.’ he murmured.

‘Yes, you can.’ I replied, returning to what I had been doing.

He adjusted his hips, opening his legs against the bed as I continued to suck on his cock. Cullen’s eyes rolled back and I could see the bulge in his throat moving as he swallowed, lost in his pleasure. He pushed his dick up, filling my mouth and into my throat before releasing me. He groaned in that space between breaths, the part where his meaty staff testily choked me before quickly withdrawing.

My tongue ran up and down his erection, throwing him a wicked smile before taking him into my mouth again. This time I felt him grow stiff, his hands desperately holding me down.

‘Swallow it.’ he ordered ‘Every-last-…_uhhh_.’

His dick swelled and he cried out, releasing his seed in urgent spurts down my throat as I swallowed his cream. There was a lot of it, and it took several gulps to get through the load.

‘Maker what a thing to wake up to.’ he moaned.

‘Breakfast in bed.’ I mused ‘Now that’s done I must set off.’

Cullen drew me into his arms, his hands falling to my clit. Rubbing it slowly, he could feel the wetness. 

‘Let me break my fast then.’ he growled.

My eyes drew shut in pleasure as I felt him rub me but they opened fast as I realised a certain mage had been waiting for me since dawn.

‘Dammit, Jowan is going to kill me.’ I cursed ‘No really, I have to go.’

‘Maker curse him, you’ll stay for another week.’ Cullen ordered playfully ‘Denerim Palace can wait.’

Kissing him on the cheek, I arose reluctantly and began to dress.

‘If it were merely to see Alistair, yes of course it could wait a whole century or two. But we’ve sent word of our arrival and the children will be expecting Jowan and I to ride on in with a bag full of sweets.’

‘I understand.’ sighed Cullen, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. ‘Well you certainly know how to wake a man in the morning.’

‘Better than a rooster?’ I quipped.

‘Not any rooster that I know.’ mused Cullen.

Jumping out of bed, he too began to dress. ‘I’ve a meeting this morning that I can’t be late for. Promise me you’ll visit soon? I’ve no official reason to venture up into Skyhold without suspicion, but you passing through here? Well no one would bat an eye at a visitor frequenting Crestwood for a social call.’

Kissing him on the lips, I nodded in reassurance. ‘Of course, you have my word.’. Running my hand through his sandy locks, my lips grew wide in a smile. ‘Last night was…the happiest I’ve been for quite I while. Thank you.’

His brow lowered onto mine, our foreheads pressed together. ‘Me too.’ he confessed ‘Promise me I’ll see you soon?’

Grinning, I nodded. ‘I promise…. but only if you promise to write me love letters and send them up to Skyhold.’

‘Maker help me.’ groaned Cullen, turning to grab his armour. ‘Okay off with you, be on your way to Denerim!’


	128. The Eluvians

A warm Ferelden sun shone through the window upon a group of templars gathered in the study of Knight Commander Cullen’s study. Several leaders of the Templar Order from across Ferelden had arrived that morning, anticipating a meeting with the mages of Skyhold. There was Knight Commander Rylen of the templar outpost in Harper’s Ford, Knight-Commander Sorsha of the Kinloch Hold, Knight-Captain Fergus of Fortress Tavish and Knight-Commander Cullen and Knight-Captain Arrus of Caer Bronach.

‘Sufficed to say our meeting with the mages at Skyhold did not turn out to be successful.’ informed Cullen briefly, casting his stern eyes around the room. ‘We spoke with Jowan MacLothlorean and Ophelia Trevelyan yesterday and came to the mutual agreement that an alliance would not be for the best. They believe any use of their magic in the Fade would be fruitless against an enemy such as Sapientes.’

A burly man with red hair and a beard snorted, appearing disgusted. ‘Sounds like they just couldn’t be bothered?’ observed Knight-Commander Fergus ‘Typical mage. Magic exists to serve man and never rule over him. Bah, but the moment you call for them to serve they bloody well dig their heels in and cry the victim.’

Knight-Commander Rylen held a rolled-up scroll in his hand, pointing it to Cullen with a grin. ‘If you couldn’t sway them then we had no chance. You Skyhold division Inquisition members were as thick as thieves eh? Probably have a secret hand shake and all.’

‘Long have been the days since the Inquisition, as you well know.’ replied Cullen seriously ‘I’ve not been in contact with the mages at Skyhold since the day I left. Nor have I had cause to. So no, my ability to call in any favours is far and few between.’

‘We should be thankful they’re not aiding us.’ observed Knight-Captain Arrus shortly. His blue eyes scanned the templars solemnly. ‘I fear the apostates in Skyhold have lost their way.’

Rylen frowned, clearly worried at the Knight-Captain’s concerns. ‘What have they done to grieve you so Knight-Captain Arrus?’

Cullen waved his hand at the comment. ‘A trifle disagreement during our meeting yesterday that needs not be brought up in this meeting Knight-Captain Arrus.’. His stern eyes glared at Arrus, before turning back to Knight-Commander Rylan. ‘The mages have reassured me their lack of involvement is the best outcome. That in my books is trustworthy advice.’. Cullen frowned at Arrus as he stirred in annoyance in the corner of the room. ‘It does not do to dwell on that of which we cannot change. Let us move on.’

A female templar with short black hair and pale grey eyes turned curiously to the Cullen. ‘Did we not need these mages to transport our templars into the Fade?’ inquired Knight-Commander Sorsha ‘I was under the impression the Skyhold mages were experienced in battle and would be our best chance at collectively teleporting our armies to the Fade?’

Cullen shook his head. ‘There is no spell to teleport thousands of templars into the Nephilim Realm. No, the only way is to travel through the Eluvians.’

‘Eluvians?’ echoed Knight-Captain Fergus, scratching his red beard in fascination. ‘What in the blazes is that?’

Reaching for some parchment on his desk, Cullen began to draw an outlined shape of a mirror. He held up the paper to show the curious templars in the room. ‘An Eluvian is essentially a magical looking glass. The ancient elves of Arlathan did not have roads to travel between their cities and instead used these mirrors to travel and communicate between. The Eluvians also enabled travel to other realms outside the Fade. It was special elven magic they used, that which is foreign to the Circle of Magi and the Tevinter Imperium.’

‘Which means the mages cannot aid us even if we had one of these Eluvians?’ pointed out Rylan.

‘Precisely.’ confirmed Cullen ‘Now most of the Eluvians were destroyed but some still remain, although they remain dormant. Luckily the Chantry has one in their possession, although it too remains lifeless. Like that of an old mirror and nothing else. After the fall of the Arlathan the secrets of unlocking the mirrors remained just that…a forgotten secret. The Tevinters tried for centuries and were unable to unlock them. The mystics of the Anders also failed. Even the Dalish were unable to reactivate them from what I’ve been told.’

Rylan nodded sagely. ‘Aye I’ve also read tales of the Eluvians. They say one would need great knowledge to activate an Eluvian, and then know the way to the centre of the Eluvians and have the knowledge to be able to navigate to other realms from there. You would need to know the keystone. And on top of all that you would need to know what you were doing. Maker be damned, aside from being an ancient Arlathan elf you’d have no knowledge of any of this at all.’. The man paused, throwing Cullen a troubled look. ‘I don’t know about you my friend, but I’m not privy to all that? Why would you suggest we can use the Eluvians to travel to the Nephilim Realm?’

Cullen raised a knowing brow to his comrade. ‘Rylan indeed there is one who could help us with the Eluvians and you know him.’

Rylen shook his head. ‘Nay I’ve little friends where the elves stand, so standoffish are their race. They keep at a distance at Harper’s Ford, residing in the forest and making it damn clear that none of my men and women are welcome to venture near. Besides you said it yourself, the elves no longer know how to use them. That knowledge is lost.’

Cullen sighed, placing his drawing back on the table. ‘No, there is one man that knows all about the Eluvians and how to use them. He even knows the actual keystone word to activate and navigate the Eluvians.’

‘Who?’ frowned Rylen.

‘Oh, I’ll give you a clue.’ muttered Cullen, rolling his eyes. ‘He’s rich, Orlesian, is in Gaspard Emperor’s Honour Guard and has golden hair.’

‘Ser Michel de Chevin?’ remarked Rylen in surprise. The man began to laugh, clapping his hands in applause. ‘Our dear Maister of Blades! Maker preserve me, he’s a wonder! What luck of the fates!’

‘Luck indeed.’ muttered Cullen dryly. ‘For those of you that are unaware, the Orlesian chevalier Ser Michel de Chevin and the late Empress Celene found a way to enter the Eluvians many years back. Perhaps we shouldn’t mention at what cost. All we must know is that he did it and he is one of very few who can navigate the maze.’

‘Did you not learn of his knowledge of the Eluvians when he was working at the Inquisition?’ inquired Knight-Commander Sorsha. She pursed her lips in a smile, as if entertained by the notion. ‘By the tales I’ve heard Ser Michel was working under your Order and you both got on swimmingly?’

Cullen leant back against the desk, chuckling at the woman. ‘Knight-Commander Sorsha I fear the tales you’ve heard, I really do. But no, we did not press him for information about the specifics of the Eluvians. Michel’s skills as a chevalier made his duty better served training the soldiers of the Inquisition. He did mention to me in passing of his knowledge of the Eluvians but I never sought to further use that information. Not until now.’

‘This is promising.’ observed Rylan, tapping his lip. The Knight Commander’s brow grew heavy with lines. ‘Oh, Maker be damned. Michel’s help won’t come without a hefty price I’d wager. Orlais does not seek to aid Ferelden.’

‘This is a Chantry matter first and foremost.’ argued Knight-Captain Arrus ‘Not one of Ferelden. Although King Alistair has made it his mission to protect the child of Divine Victoria, our main objective lies with rescuing Divine Victoria.’

‘The Orlesians will be inclined to aid in such a cause.’ pointed out Knight-Commander Sorsha. ‘Their Divine has been taken from them. And Divine Victoria is a Divine that common and wealthy alike believed was spiritually worthy. She was resurrected before the eyes of the faithful and unfaithful. The Maker showed all his mercy and support in her becoming his Divine.’

‘Faith is a powerful ally.’ agreed Rylan.

‘Yes, and Orlais is very close to the Chantry.’ added Cullen ‘Orlais is an empire of sworn devotees pledged to the Maker’s cause. My time serving at the Grand Cathedral made that very apparent.’

Rylan nodded. ‘Aye, the people of Orlais are of the faithful. However, you have Emperor Gaspard holding the reins and he is not a man of the Maker. He is a military man. He is a man of advantage. Once he realises that Ser Michel de Chevin has some knowledge that we need there will be a price to pay.’

‘Our coffers are full.’ observed Arrus ‘The donations from the Chantry have been significant. Surely ample coin could be offered for such a favour?’

‘Who said he’ll ask for coin?’ scoffed Knight-Commander Fergus.

Cullen appeared concerned. ‘My thoughts exactly. We need to urge Gaspard that this is in the best interests of everyone and hope he cooperates. We must be prepared to offer boons when he inevitably fails to see our cause is sufficient. Boons that are not simply chests full of gold.’

Rylan clicked his fingers at Knight-Commander Cullen, appearing amused at the question he was about to ask. ‘We need to write to Michel de Chevin immediately, hopefully he has some sway at court. Cullen would you like to do the honours, or shall I?’

Cullen appeared disillusioned by the suggestion but begrudgingly sat down at his desk. ‘I propose we write to Emperor Gaspard. No use writing directly to the puppet when we know his puppeteer sits on the Orlesian throne.’

******

Her boots paced loudly on the stone courtyard as she marched towards the healing quarters, a crease on her brow that her short chopped brown fringe could not conceal. Word had arrived at her study from a frantic messenger, eyes bulging as they informed the impossible had just happened.

Out of thin air Divine Victoria had appeared into the Grand Cathedral.

Cassandra turned swiftly into a white building and climbed the marble stairs, ignoring the bows and humble greetings from the brother and sisters she passed by. At the top of the tower she came face to face with a healer.

‘Where is she?’ demanded Cassandra, casting her brown eyes across the many doors down the hall.

The healer beckoned the Divine forward, leading her a particular door. Bowing humbly the door was opened, allowing Cassandra in before closing the door behind her.

Cassandra stopped dead in her tracks, drawing her hands to her mouth as she looked at the woman sitting on the bed. The patient’s ginger hair hung in a long limp braid to her hips, and her body was painfully thin with twig like limbs and a gaunt face. There were deep cuts and burn marks all over her skin, yet many looked like old wounds that had healed poorly. The woman’s green eyes lifted, blood shot and with blackened bags underneath.

‘Cassandra.’ Leliana croaked with a weak nod of her head. ‘It is so good to see you once more.’

Cassandra ran forward to Leliana, eager to embrace the woman. Leliana flinched and jumped back, as if anticipating she would be hurt. Casandra frowned as she stopped herself from holding her friend. She knelt by the bed, her face filled with grief.

‘Leliana I am so sorry for what you must have gone through.’ she begun ‘How did you get here? What happened to you?’

Rubbing her face with her hands, Leliana was unable to respond at first. It was clear she had been tortured and tormented to the point of insanity as her eyes darted rapidly around the room. Unwilling to say what horrors she had endured, she shook her head violently.

‘I need to see my son.’ informed Leliana, her eyes welling up with tears. Desperately she grabbed Cassandra’s hands and held onto them tight. ‘Please Cassandra, take me to him. I need to see him. Please. Please Cassandra.’

Sensing this was not the time to press Leliana with questions, Cassandra nodded. ‘Of course, I will take you. But he is in Denerim Palace and you are not fit to travel.’

Leliana looked up in surprise. ‘Why is he at the palace?’

‘Valahorn lives with King Alistair, along with the royal princess Caerwyn and prince Kieran.’ informed Cassandra ‘He has grown up there his entire life.’

‘Where is Jowan?’ asked Leliana fearfully ‘Has he died? Why is he not with Valahorn?’

The expression on Cassandra’s face grew darker. ‘Jowan leads the mages at Skyhold these days.’ she informed crisply.

Leliana stood up shakily but with determination in her eyes. ‘We must go Cassandra. We must go now.’

‘Shouldn’t you fir-’ began Cassandra.

‘Cassandra please.’ appealed Leliana.

The Seeker was about to protest but she knew fear when she heard it, and Leliana sounded terrified.

‘Let the healers dress your wounds first. And we must find you some clothes. And you must eat before you go anywhere.’ informed Cassandra sternly. ‘I will get the attendants to ready the coach now and we shall leave the moment you have done these things.’


	129. A Warm Welcome

‘So, did you have a pleasant evening?’ Jowan asked stiffly, his tongue lashing with spite. Running a hand along the mane of his black mare, the mage stroked the coarse hair as he rode at a slow pace along the Imperial Highway.

The rocky part of the Imperial Highway we rode along that day well represented the state of affairs at present. Hours prior I’d left Cullen’s house to meet Jowan. Well aware Jowan was going to be out of spirits, I was prepared for any glumness. When I arrived he was already saddled and waiting at the entrance of the tavern; _The Merry Fox_. Despite my jovial greeting as I mounted beside him, he remained irritably silent and soon we were away without another word exchanged between us. For an hour we had ridden along the Imperial Highway past farmer's crops and fields covered in dandelion and nettle, and without a word uttered.

Pulling my reins tighter, I braced myself. Looking over to Jowan, he was now glaring at me with narrowed dark eyes.

‘It was fine?’ I replied uncertainly, not knowing what to say in order to placate my friend. ‘We had a lot to talk about.’

‘I noticed neither of you at The Merry Fox last night.’ observed Jowan bitterly ‘Did you drink with the templars up in Caer Bronach? That must have been a barrel of laughs?’

Indignantly I shook my head. ‘Why ever would I want to drink with the templars?! Goodness no! Besides Cullen being a Knight-Commander and all…well, he was insistent that we weren’t to be seen together in public.’

Damn it! I bit my lip, cursing myself for saying that last part. Eager to brush over the comment I continued on hastily.

‘He has a house in Crestwood so it was the obvious place to go. Cullen made dinner. He’s a good cook. Who would have thought?’

The mage nodded curtly as he turned to look on ahead, and we rode on in an uncomfortable silence. Jowan rigidly kept his head forward, unwilling to say another word and it continued for half a mile until something suddenly snapped in his mind and he shook his head in annoyance, unable to contain his thoughts a moment longer.

‘I know you don’t want to hear this but I feel it needs to be said.’ informed Jowan sharply ‘Three years have passed and you’ve seen hide nor hair of this man. Yet the moment he shows up you become…you become….’

‘What?’ I asked in annoyance. ‘What do I become?’

‘_Delusional_!’ blurted out the mage in frustration. Jowan swept back his black hair irritably, as if the very thought disheveled him. ‘Cullen doesn’t want to be seen with you in public yet somehow you think that’s fine? What does that tell you? What are you to him, Ophelia? A shameful secret? Like a hired whore rented at the bathhouse?’

‘Well to be frank, I wouldn’t want our mage order knowing I was catching up with the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order.’ I argued back ‘It does neither of us any credit.’

‘And why is that?’ asked Jowan, clearly aware of the answer.

I refused to reply, silently cursing him under my breath.

‘Exactly.’ pressed Jowan ‘Because Cullen Rutherford leads an Order that believes that mages are a blight on humanity. Mages are regarded by the Chantry as the Maker's fallen. We have been raised to fear the Templar Order. You are well aware, as is he, that what you are doing is a conflict of interest of both your orders.’

‘We were just old friends catching up.’ I muttered.

Jowan appeared hurt by the comment. ‘Don’t lie to me. Not after everything that we’ve gone through.’

‘Sorry.’ I apologised, knowing he deserved better. ‘You’re right, you deserve the truth. After you left the meeting the other day at Crestwood, Cullen indicated he had feelings for me. I didn’t think much of it, but we talked later on that afternoon and he invited me to dinner.’. Shrugging at the mage, I knew he wouldn’t understand. ‘Cullen and I care for each other. But his position would never allow that sort of behaviour. If he can’t practice what he preaches then he’ll lose the respect of his men and women. So, while I don’t like it I understand why he wants privacy.’

‘In his eyes you are an embarrassment to his position.’ informed Jowan coldly ‘Do you really want to invest your time in a person that sees your gifts as a curse?’

‘For crying out loud Jowan, it was just dinner.’ I muttered ‘Does everything have to become a templar versus mage debate?’

‘The way he hides you away suggests that it does?’ retorted Jowan impatiently ‘Why would you trust a templar, let alone the cretin that runs the entire Order? Of all the people in Thedas Ophelia, why choose that man? You were raised in a circle just as I was. You know what these templars are like. They are taught that mages are dangerous and need to be contained. Do you really think deep down that Cullen has made an exception for you? As he shamefully hides you away in his house in Crestwood? This is not going to end well for you.’

‘We were in a relationship for years at Skyhold.’ I refuted ‘It was hardly a secret.’

Jowan pointed a long finger at me, unwilling to let the matter slide. ‘No, he was in a relationship with you while he was Commander of the Inquisition. The moment he re-joined the Templars Order everything fell magnificently apart.’

‘Yet he proposed to me when he was a templar?’ I snapped back ‘Cullen was obviously fine with the fact that I was a mage and he was a templar.’

‘Oh, did Cullen end up marrying you? I must have lost that invitation.’ scoffed Jowan. ‘No that’s right, he hurled you over to the King of Ferelden so he could be with Leliana. The woman he actually pledged himself to ten years prior in Greenfeel. Yes, some great love story you and he share there. Inspiring.’

Gasping at the comment, I was gobsmacked. I expected snide remarks like that from Eamon or Leliana, but not from my friend. Jowan knew how much that part of my life had scarred me and yet here he was thrusting it in my face. My eyes turned back to the road, and I rode on silently.

Jowan cursed under his breath. ‘I’m sorry Ophelia, I didn’t mean to say that. I just-’

Kicking in my heels, I pressed on ahead. Jowan had successfully made me feel like a pile of dung and I wasn’t sticking around to hear any more of it. All I could do now was ride hard and hope the two-day journey to Denerim would soon come to an end.

****

Clutching the golden crown in his small hands with delight, the young boy sprung up from the picnic blanket and ran down the cobbled garden path.

‘Daddy where’s your crown?’ he yelled out mischievously, holding the shiny object behind his back.

Among the flowing wisteria trees King Alistair was sitting on a blanket on the grass in the Denerim Palace gardens, cuddling a little girl with features similar to his own. Caerwyn had fallen over a patch of clover and after several minutes of coddling from Alistair now remained happily in her father’s lap.

Alistair Theirin cherished these moments, when he and his children could play together on a sunny morning in the gardens. Although Kieran was fourteen and more interested in other pursuits, Valahorn and Caerwyn loved playing in the garden more than anything else. Valahorn was a typical four-year-old boy. He liked to get into mischief and Alistair was ever the obliging accomplice in their adventures of catching frogs by the river and crafting wooden swords out of sticks. Caerwyn was a year and several months younger than Valahorn and enjoyed walking around with her father collecting leaves of all different shapes and sizes. She loved stories, and he spent many a happy hour reading as he cuddled her under the trees.

Placing a kiss on Caerwyn’s head, Alistair jumped up from the picnic rug with a grin. He raised his hands to his head, and playfully pretended to be shocked there was no crown there.

‘Oh no!’ exclaimed Alistair ‘Valahorn I’ve lost my crown? Do you know where it is?’

The boy laughed cheekily, jumping up and down as he waved the crown at Alistair. Proudly he placed the crown upon his own mop of black hair. ‘Daddy can’t be king now; I have his crown!’

Alistair chuckled as he crept closer to the boy. ‘Oh, if only it were that easy?’ he muttered to himself.

Caerwyn clapped her small hands in delight, pointing at the boy waving the crown. ‘Vaa-horn has cwown. Daddy look! Vaa-horn, vaa-horn!’

Alistair crept closer to the boy. ‘Well if I’m no king anymore, that means I’ve been turned into a….’. He held up his hands like claws and roared playfully. ‘…..a wilder beast! And I’m hungry for children!!!!’

Valahorn and Caerwyn squealed in delight, running away as Alistair chased them around the garden. He managed to corner them by a large box hedge and in one big swoop of his arms, scooped up Valahorn and Caerwyn under each arm and swung them around playfully. They cackled in delight, spinning round and round until Alistair collapsed all three of them back onto the picnic blanket.

‘Again! Again!’ the children cried out, pulling on the king’s arms and wanting to be swung around more.

‘By Andraste, daddy is very very tired.’ chuckled Alistair as he lay in a heap on the blanket.

Grinning at their pouting faces Alistiar sprung up and started tickling them, their shrieks being heard loudly throughout the gardens. Valahorn and Caerwyn giggled in delight, running behind Alistair before jumping on his back with eager little fingers attempting to tickle his neck.

Making her way down the stairs from the palace, a portly lady in a white pinafore smiled as she saw the three laughing on the grass. She curtsied politely as she approached the king.

‘Your majesty, shall I take the children for their morning tea? You’ve guests that have just arrived, and one of them is the most holy Divine Elizabeth.’. She extended a hand to the doors of the palace behind them, where two blurry figures stood behind the glass. ‘They await you in the sitting parlour.’

Alistair looked up in surprise, none the wiser as to why the head of the Chantry sought council with him that particular morning.

‘Really?’ exclaimed the king ‘Her Most Holy has come all the way from Val Royeaux to see me? Was I expecting the Divine to visit? Maker this is a little embarrassing, isn't it?’

‘I believe I heard Knight Comfrey mention this meeting was unscheduled.’ the maid replied quietly ‘Her Most Holy arrived half an hour ago in a large stage coach and no one was expecting her. Caused quite a fuss with the knights, they had to move on many of the faithful from gathering at the gates.’

Turning to Valahorn, Alistair ran a fond hand through his black hair and placed a loving kiss on his cheek. He then did the same to Caerwyn, kissing her chubby cheek affectionately.

‘Well my ducks, daddy must attend to some royal duties.’ informed Alistair merrily ‘Go with nanny and get some biscuits while I talk to the grownups.’

The children skipped off merrily with the maid, hand in hand, and Alistair watched them depart with a smile. Grabbing his crown, he placed it on his head and brushed the grass off his pants. Unable to shake off an unsettled feeling of being watched, he turned to notice the glass doors of the sitting parlour opening and two women walking through.

One woman he recognised instantly; it was Cassandra wearing the traditional cream robes of the Divine. The other woman, however, looked strangely familiar?

Alistair rushed forward through the garden, his eyes growing large as he approached his guests. Cassandra’s companion was pale and gaunt with long ginger hair that fell to her waist. Her large green eyes pierced his own as they came face to face.

‘_Leliana_?’ remarked Alistair in shock ‘Is it really you? What a blessing it is to see you again!’

He extended a hand to Leliana but she recoiled, fearfully stepping away to avoid contact. Alistair was concerned, turning to Cassandra fearfully as if he had done something wrong. Yet he noticed she too appeared agitated and out of sorts.

‘Divine Elizabeth, it is an honour to have you here at Denerim Palace.’ greeted Alistair politely. Uncertainly, he added. ‘And to see Leliana here after such a time is nothing short of a miracle?’

‘Thank you, King Alistair. You must forgive our unannounced arrival.’ apologised Cassandra ‘Divine Victoria’s return to us has been fortuitous, yet the last few days have also been chaotic.’

‘What happened?’ urged Alistair, still staring at Leliana in disbelief. ‘Leliana how is it that you are here? Did you escape? Did Sapientes let you go? It’s a wonder to see you here. We’d been working on a plan to try to rescue you. But you’re here now! How?’

Wringing her hands anxiously, Leliana cast her eyes to the ground. Unable to respond to the king she remained mute.

Cassandra shook her head, silently imploring Alistair to cease his incessant questions. ‘There will be time for answers.’ the Seeker reassured quickly ‘For now, Leliana just wants to see Valahorn. That is why we have come.’

The king raised his brows in surprise. ‘Of course!’ replied Alistair. ‘Naturally you must be desperate to see him?’

‘Valahorn calls you his father?’ Leliana observed quietly. It was apparent she had been watching Alistair for some time through the glass doors. ‘He called you daddy? Why are you his father these days?’. There was accusation in her voice, as if she clearly didn’t approve.

Alistair rubbed his neck uncomfortably, as if he’d been caught out sneaking butteries from the larder. ‘Leliana it wasn’t intentional.’ he replied apologetically ‘Jowan wanted to focus on training the mages in Skyhold for when Sapientes came for Valahorn. We all knew Valahorn was safer living here than up in Skyhold so I offered to raise him here where it was safe. He’s grown up here with Caerwyn and Kieran his entire life. I’ve raised them all together.’. The king noticed Leliana frowning, and he continued on quickly. ‘Valahorn’s first word was dada and he said it to me when Jowan was in Skyhold. It just felt like the natural thing to do was to treat him as a son along with my other son and daughter. And I admit it, I see Valahorn as my son. Jowan gets a little annoyed when I refer to Valahorn as such, but there it is. I cannot ignore what I feel.’

Raising a bony hand across her pale cheek, Leliana wiped the tears falling down. ‘Valahorn was just there by the tree. So close to me but so far away, just as he was in my dreams. I could not go to him. I am a stranger to my son. I can’t even hug him for he doesn’t know me.’

It was heartbreaking to see the woman so upset and Alistair couldn’t help but feel her grief. He extended a worried hand but pulled it back as he saw the fear in her eyes as she recoiled once more.

‘No Leliana, that’s not true.’ reassured Alistair kindly ‘Valahorn knows all about you. Jowan took the portrait of you from the Grand Cathedral. That one the Chantry painted on your coronation as Divine. We hung it in Valahorn’s room and he has looked upon your face every day since he was a baby. We’ve told Valahorn all about you Leliana. Jowan and I always talk to him about you.’

Cassandra glared at the king, crossing her arms in annoyance. ‘So that’s where that painting went? You say Jowan stole Chantry art from the Grand Cathedral?’

Rubbing his stubble uneasily, Alistair shrugged with a guilty smile. ‘Sorry about that. His intentions were good?’

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the comment.

‘He knows my face but he does not know me.’ whispered Leliana, her lip quivering. ‘I feel so cold within. How can I live like this? To fight so hard to return to a place I do not belong in?’

Cassandra’s usual stern voice softened. ‘Leliana you are his mother. A lot has happened and these things just take time. Perhaps we should return to Val Royeaux until you are recovered? You must take care of yourself first.’

‘I want to be with my son Cassandra.’ snapped Leliana ‘Do not think I will leave him now. Not after everything I’ve gone through to get back to him.’. She raised a shaking hand to her head, clutching it in pain. The woman looked exhausted and it was clear to everyone that she was in no state to be traveling anywhere. She was in no state to be doing anything.

With a wave of his hand, Alistair beckoned forth a waiting servant standing by the palace steps. They approached swiftly, bowing to the king.

‘Your Majesty?’

‘Prepare a room for our guest here.’ ordered Alistair ‘Leliana will be staying with us here at the castle for a while. Make sure she receives anything she requires.’

Leliana looked up in surprise, and Alistair nodded at her. ‘I insist.’ he encouraged. ‘You want to be with your son and here you can get to know him. As long as that takes, know that you are welcome here.’

‘Thank you, Alistair.’ Leliana murmured, overwhelmed by the act of kindness. Her eyes lowered and she shuffled in her steps, as if the gesture was too much to cope with.

‘Perhaps I too can stay, for a day or two at least?’ inquired Cassandra. Her concerned brown eyes shifted to Leliana before turning back to Alistair. ‘There are matters we should discuss.’

Alistair nodded. ‘But of course. It would Ferelden’s honour to host Divine Elizabeth. Now get settled Leliana, and I shall go tell Valahorn that his mother has returned.’


	130. An Offer One Can’t Refuse

South of the Waking Sea, close to the eastern border of Orlais, resided the city of Halamshiral. Originally built by the elves, its name meant; The end of the journey. Each time Michel de Chevin travelled to the Orlesian city he remembered those elves, that walked without shoes and food from the Tevinter Imperium to find a home of their own. Many died during their trek and many turned back, but some pushed forward. They came to Halamshiral and found a place they could call home, beyond in the forests of the Dales. To Michel there was something very special about Halamshiral and each time the chevalier stepped into the Winter Palace he felt like he had come home.

A royal messenger had arrived at his residence at dawn, delivering a message to Michel of his summons to the court at the Winter Palace. The message did not allude to the reason behind his summons, but the chevalier knew he should not delay a personal request from the Emperor himself. And so Michel rode out from his manor in Montsimmard that morning to address Gaspard.

With a cordial smile the knight wove through the court of the palace, politely greeting the lords and ladies in passing. White wigs were back in fashion and the half-elf smiled in amusement as several ladies swooned over his long light blonde hair tied elegantly in a pony tail. Their eager eyes took in all that crossed the marble floor of the Emperor’s court, for only those who graced such a place were deemed worthy. Ser Michel de Chevin was deserving of being deemed as such.

Passing through several rooms, and out into a large courtyard, Michel ceased his march to pause at a large marble statue of Chevalier Charlemagne. Chevalier Charlemagne was the first chevalier of Orlais and the fore founder of chivalry. To all in the Order of the Academie, he was that which each chevalier looked up to and aspired to be. Even carved in rock, the knight’s presence was overwhelming. Charlemagne towered eight-foot-high, with an outstretched sword in one hand and an outstretched palm in front, blessing all that bent their knee before him.

Michel knelt before the statue; his eyes cast down as he offered Chevalier Charlemagne respect. Reflection in such a place was imperative for a chevalier, and Michel spent some time contemplating his own thoughts and actions of the past.

‘Chevalier Charlemagne, hear my pledge.’ prayed Michel ‘To fear the Maker and maintain his Church. To serve the Emperor in valour and faith. To protect the weak and defenceless. To give succour to widows and orphans. To refrain from the wanton giving of offence. To despise pecuniary reward. To fight for the welfare of all. To obey those placed in authority. To guard the honour of fellow chevaliers. To eschew unfairness, meanness and deceit. To keep faith. To speak the truth at all times. To persevere to the end in any enterprise begun. To respect the honour of women. Never to refuse a challenge from an equal. Never to turn the back upon a foe.’. Lifting his blues to the face of the statue looking down upon him, he appealed to the chiselled knight in marble. ‘With your blessings, so may it be.’

Arising with determination he continued onwards, making his way to the main quarter of the palace where the throne room resided. Michel passed two chevaliers standing guard, and greeted them in passing as he stepped into the throne room. It was magnificent place, with white marble floors and golden mirrors adorning each wall. Like that of a ballroom, yet at the end of the room was a golden throne and on it sat Emperor Gaspard.

On that particular morning the Emperor appeared busy listening to the grievances of several nobles. His head slumped against his hand in boredom as one Marquis ranted on about money being owed to him by another noble in the room. Michel lingered by the entrance of the room, causing the Emperor to look up. He clapped his hands loudly at the sight of the chevalier.

‘Everyone is dismissed.’ the Emperor ordered suddenly ‘Leave now, I require an important session with one of my Guards of Honour.’

Curious faces of the room turned to look at Michel de Chevin. Many nodded in approval as they passed the chevalier, and swiftly the nobles departed, whispering to each other as they exited. 

With loud steps from his sabatons echoing in the chamber Michel approached the ruler on the throne, bowing before him humbly.

‘My liege, I came as soon as I received your message.’ informed Michel respectfully.

‘Ser Michel de Chevin!’ greeted Gaspard ‘You’ve come! Good, good. Bet you didn’t expect to be back at the Palace so soon after our wild celebrations?’. The Emperor chuckled, reminiscing the previous few weeks. ‘Marquis De Bonberre riding backwards on a horse whilst singing a song about bon-bons. Or perhaps you challenging Comte de Feutre to a dual at midnight with a bottle of vin rouge? I can’t choose my favourite memory of our recent escapades here.’

The chevalier concealed a wide smile with his hand, bashful at his more light-hearted nature that always came out when drinking too much of Gaspard’s wine. Michel should have known better, but the Emperor always had a way of encouraging rowdy behaviour with his chevaliers. It was the reason Michel sported a white scar along his upper left cheekbone, from former adventures involving Gaspard’s liquor and midnight brawls with Orzammar’s Carta on the Imperial Highway.

‘I thought you said the Council wanted you back in Val Royeaux after your celebrations?’ queried Michel ‘Are you planning to stay here at the palace until spring? Or must you return to Val Royeaux?’

Gaspard scrunched his nose, as if the idea displeased him. He drew his hand to wave about the room proudly. ‘Look at this fine place I have here, and then compare it to that gaudy pigsty of a palace in Val Royeaux? No, I intend stay here longer, and keep away from the hustle and bustle of that garish city. Out here we can hunt deer, smoke trout and soak in wine to our hearts content. In Val Royeaux I’m pinched by tailor pins and made to listen to the Council of Heralds every whim and woe.’. Gaspard beckoned Michel closer. ‘I’ve not brought you here to bore you with my living arrangements. Come, come. We’ve business to discuss.’

Gaspard rubbed his brown beard, his hand revealing a hand full of jewelled rings that the Emperor was obliged to wear when holding court. He resembled the traditional hardy soldier, with thinning brown hair, a scarred face and a strong nose, yet the gold crown adorning his head gave him a distinguished air the mercenary Emperor rarely displayed.

‘Politics my friend.’ informed Gaspard ‘That is why I’ve called you here. Our battle with Nevarra has been causing me misery ever since we rode to victory.’

Michel tilted his head curiously at the remark. ‘Our success causes you trouble? How could that be?’

Gaspard sighed, taking a cup of wine from the silver platter beside his throne. ‘You see what a curse it is to lead this pig swill? With strong Orlesian soldiers I march our troops to victory.’. He clenched his fist proudly. ‘I make Orlais a better place. A powerful kingdom. And what do I get in return? These peasants paint me the hot-headed ruler. My spies tell me the court in Val Royeaux whisper that I’m reckless, rude and apathetic. They say I rule by the sword, not by the heart.’

Michel contemplated the problem, trying to make sense of the Emperor’s dilemma. ‘As frustrating as it is, many of the Orlesian nobility enjoy lives detached from the realities of what it takes to run an empire.' explained the chevalier 'And perhaps we should remember the aftermath of battle is never easy for either side? Our Nevarran neighbours shared that land and many Orlesians perhaps found themselves forming bonds on both sides? A border is never just a line to those that live on either side.’

The Emperor snorted at the comment. ‘Tosh! We took back traditional Orlesian land stolen by Nevarrans centuries ago. A line is a line. There was nothing to do after our victory except celebrate our brave soldiers reclaiming our land. Was it my fault the Nevarran’s fought with piss armour and cheap blades? No! They were slaughtered because they failed to treat warfare with the respect it deserves. But the people Michel, these filthy plebs expect me to be a strong emperor but also one who oozes charm. But I am a soldier, not a bewitcher. The people expect me to ooze words of syrup to my enemies in the hopes we shall be friends. They’d rather me hold hands than rule with a sword.’

‘That would never have worked with Nevarra, particularly in regards to the Grove of Pillars?’ replied Michel ‘Nevarra claimed that land as their own despite Orlesian land title history saying otherwise. The only thing we could have done was take it back as we did.’

‘Precisely.’ agreed Gaspard ‘But the Orlesians are delusional. They see my victory as aggression. Lacking the tact that my frivolous cousin Celene displayed. She did fuck all for this empire, but she did it so well with smiles and silk fashions. Now a real ruler has come along, the people are shocked. I need to throw an olive branch here, and I’m sorry my friend but you must be that branch.’

The knight frowned, confused as to what his ruler was implying. ‘My Emperor, I cannot see how I could offer any aid? I fought alongside you during this campaign and secured The Grove of Pillars. Those that are displeased of how you dealt with Nevarra would surely be displeased with me as well?’

Gaspard threw his head back and laughed at the observation. ‘Sacré bleu, you are far too humble! Michel, you represent the valiant knight of tales of old. He who holds a radiant heart and acts with honour. You represent a man of chivalry, courage and passion, that women desperately cling to the hope that every man possesses…and which no man ever does. You represent the soul of Orlais.’

Michel raised a blond eyebrow at the Emperor, dubious at the description presented to him. ‘With all respect, I am but a man with as many flaws as the next.’

‘We are all just men.’ agreed Gaspard ‘But know this Michel - people do not want to be ruled by men. They want to be ruled by something more than that. An Emperor is ordained by the Maker’s will, that is what the people believe. A bridge between mortal man and the Maker himself, that is what I am.’

Withdrawing a letter from his cream waistcoat, the emperor held it out to Michel. He nudged his head, encouraging the chevalier to take it.

‘I received this last night from the Templar Order based in Ferelden.’ Gaspard informed ‘The Chantry needs our help with accessing the Eluvians. We all know you are well educated in that area. You must go to their aid at Caer Bronach.’

The chevalier frowned, accepting the letter curiously. He cast his blue eyes over the correspondence and his face grew heavy in dismay as he beheld the signatory.

‘Commander Cullen seeks aid in using the Eluvians in order to rescue Divine Victoria?’ remarked Michel shortly, as if the request was not in the slightest palatable.

‘Yes.’ confirmed Gaspard ‘And while I have no interest in such matters, the people of Orlais see it in a different light. They want their true Divine back and here I hold the key. So, this is a blessing for my empire. You must go and aid the Chantry. We must show the people of Orlais that I, Emperor Gaspard, will not abandon our real Divine in her time of need. Let them see I am a ruler with a heart.’

Michel felt disheartened at the request, remembering how difficult it had been for him when working with Cullen. His emotions had been turbulent, falling from depression to euphoria and then back again to dismay. Michel dearly wished to forget about his time away from Orlais during those years. However, the chevalier knew he could not decline a request from his Emperor and there was no choice but to agree.

‘If this is your wish then I am obliged.’ replied Michel.

‘I sense you disapprove?’ observed Gaspard, tapping his goblet impatiently.

Michel ran an uncomfortable hand through his blonde hair. ‘No, it’s just…I cannot boast of having the best relationship with Cullen Rutherford. To work with him again would be laboured. And I had hoped my service would remain in Orlais and not Ferelden.’

The emperor chuckled, raising his goblet to the air. ‘Ah my friend, two men fighting over one woman never makes the best of friends. Take it as a lesson and move on.’

‘Of course, things are different now.’ added Michel ‘I am married and happier than I’ve ever been. It’s just, the past will always be the past where Cullen and I are concerned. We do not get along for that very reason.’

‘Commander Rutherford needs your help, he’ll be on his best behaviour for the sake of their mission.’ dismissed Gaspard ‘Michel, I know it is a great ask of you, considering all you have done for me lately. But my decision is final. Your knowledge is valuable to them so you must go and aid the Chantry with this. For as long as it takes. If you return successfully I will offer you something you cannot refuse. After all, I am not an ungrateful emperor when it comes to my loyal subjects?’

Michel looked curiously at the Emperor. ‘Brie from Lydes?’ he joked ‘A barrel of port from your estate in Montford?’

The Emperor chuckled, shaking his head. ‘A slightly better reward. My Champion. If you want the position it shall be yours on your return.’

Michel’s blue eyes lifted in disbelief as the Emperor nodded. It was an offer of a role Michel dared never hope to hold again. Such a position he once held with such great pride, and yet shamefully was stripped from him to cause such dishonour. Yet now he was being offered the role of Champion once again and he felt his heart bursting with pride once more. The felicity it would bring him and his family would outweigh all the disgrace he had brought in former days. He felt like dancing around the room and jumping in joy, but his noble constitution and elegance of character prevented him from doing so.

‘What of Ser Gamelon?’ inquired Michel respectfully, aware there was another chevalier already holding the title. ‘Such a fine Champion at your side now would never step aside willingly. And nor should he? He leads the chevaliers in age and experience much greater than mine.’

Gaspard clicked his fingers. ‘Quite right! And there we have our answer. Ser Gamelon has served as my Champion exceptionally well but he has long desired to retire. A chevalier who has seen over sixty-six winters is entitled to hang his sword over the fireplace and live out his days as he chooses. And between you and me, I’d rather have your brawn defending me than that of Ser Gamelon. You are a much younger and stronger knight. It is time you stepped into your rightful role as my Champion.’

The chevalier laughed in disbelief, bending his knee in a humble bow. ‘Emperor Gaspard…. thank you for this honour.’

The Emperor smiled, lifting his goblet to toast the chevalier. ‘You deserve it Michel. I owe you my life and I haven’t forgotten the blade you spared from my heart at the expense of my cousin’s wrath against you. Your treason to her was an oath to your undying loyalty to me. Do not think such a thing is ever forgotten.’. Pointing his goblet at the man, he added sternly. ‘But for now, it’s time you were on your way. The sooner you get this done the better.’

Clapping his hands, the doors of the throne room opened once more and the nobles began filing into the court. Michel stepped back, unable to contain the brilliant smile on his face as he turned to prepare for his journey.

****

Flecks of foaming spit fell from the mouth of the horse as it furiously galloped into the gates at Caer Bronach. The templars standing guard were surprised to see a messenger of the Grand Cleric riding so frantically, narrowly missing several men as he rode into the courtyard. He jumped swiftly from the horse and announced he had an important message for the Knight-Commander.

After being led to the office of Knight-Commander Cullen, the messenger promptly withdrew a sealed letter and departed back to his steed.

Minutes passed before the door of Knight-Commander Cullen’s study burst open, and the Knight-Commander himself rushed down the stairs of the keep. Cullen yelled for his horse and traveling supplies to be saddled, before mounting his steed and galloping off down the dusty path leading east into the heart of Ferelden.

****

As Leliana settled into her quarters at Denerim Palace, Alistair and Cassandra spared no time gathering in the king’s private sitting area. The king paced the room, waiting impatiently as tea was served and the servants finally made themselves scarce. The moment the pair were alone, he turned to Cassandra eagerly.

‘_Well_?’ he implored ‘How has Leliana returned to us? What is going on here Cassandra?’

Cassandra tapped her tea cup anxiously as she stared into the hot liquid before her. ‘Alistair, this was unexpected.’ she observed seriously ‘You recall we received a note from Leliana months ago asking for help? We were arranging our templars to rescue her. Until this happened we all believed she was still trapped in the Nephilim Realm.’. Cassandra looked up from her tea cup, appearing as confused as Alistair was. ‘Two days ago my attendants informed me Leliana appeared out of thin air in the Grand Cathedral. She just fell from the sky.’

Alistair raised his brows in surprise. ‘She fell from the sky into the Grand Cathedral? How is that possible?’

Cassandra shrugged. ‘Magic? I don’t know.’. Her face appeared tired as she shook her head. ‘We’ve travelled non stop for two days straight at Leliana’s insistence. It’s a trip from Val Royeaux that I don’t recommend taking in such a short amount of time. The entire way I sat with her in the coach and Leliana has said nothing to me of what happened. Not a word about where she has been or how she came to be here.’. The Seeker frowned, looking at the king. ‘She has been through a terrible ordeal, that of which I cannot comprehend? You need only look at her to see how heinous her time over there must have been.’

‘She looks half dead.’ muttered Alistair ‘Maker I didn’t even recognise her at first. And the wounds on her Cassandra? Not even the worst of my prisoners look like that. She must have been starved and tortured?’

The Seeker sipped her tea, willingly bringing a silence to the question they both feared to know in detail. ‘Wherever she was it is obvious Leliana has gone through a harrowing experience. Her limbs tremor uncontrollably and for the few hours she slept in the carriage she screamed so loudly the coachmen stopped several times to see that everything was alright.’

Alistair sat into his chair, his hands pressed together in contemplation. ‘Everything is not alright though, is it?’ he observed ‘For if Leliana is here then she is not with Sapientes and that means he will come for her. And for Valahorn.’. His brown eyes lifted seriously to hers. ‘My children are not safe.’

‘That too has crossed my mind.’ agreed Cassandra ‘Our templars will be ready if he comes. We knew a day could come like this. We have trained our templars for this day.’

The king appeared unconvinced. ‘How can we be? You remember what happened to Ophelia all those years back? All it took was one demon to take her life in his hands. What if they come now for the children? No templar can stop that. Jowan has protected the palace from such a thing happening, but who’s to say what Sapientes is capable of?’. Alistair hesitated, appearing to have an idea. ‘Jowan is traveling to Denerim as we speak. He could aid us?’

Cassandra threw a stern glance at the king. ‘Alistair we’ve spoken about this. He’s not to be trusted.’

‘He knows the enemy well.’ argued Alistair.

The Seeker’s brow creased. ‘Shall I remind you _how_ he came to know Sapientes so well?’

‘Cassandra I’m well aware of his past discretions.’ acknowledged Alistair ‘Yet he has given me no cause to doubt his good character over the last few years. Does the Chantry not believe in forgiveness? Can a man not change and be forgiven if he is truly penitent?’

‘Has he come to the Chantry in contrition?’ asked Cassandra sceptically ‘For the Maker offers forgiveness but only to those that are truly remorseful of their sins.’

Alistair shook his head. ‘There are some who fall from the flock and cannot find a way back into the fold. This is what I see of Jowan. He is a decent man these days. You only have to see the way he is with Valahorn to know he is a good person.’. Sighing, he rolled his hand. ‘And of course, perhaps we don’t see eye to eye with the fact that he teaches the mages in Skyhold. But that is who he is. A mage determined to teach other mages.’

‘A maleficar, you mean?’ corrected Cassandra dryly ‘And one that has murdered many innocents.’

‘From the reports of the Ferelden guard he merely teaches those the magic that was taught in the former circle of Ferelden?’ refuted Alistair ‘I’d not be allowing anything else and you know it.’

The Seeker frowned as she sipped her tea. ‘Leliana will at least be glad to see him.’ she observed crisply. ‘Aside from that, Jowan offers us trouble and nothing else.’


	131. The Lady in the Painting

Valahorn sat on a rug in his room, dragging wooden toy soldiers and horses across the floor. Despite his black hair messily scattered across his face, his green eyes stared intently at the army before him with an unnerving focus. Two perfectly straight lines of soldiers faced each other, with cavalry on either side. His dimpled cheeks grew large as his lips curled mischievously and with one sudden swipe of his arm both sides of the army were smashed into a heap.

The little boy cackled in delight as Alistair threw his hand out in amused outrage.

‘Well that’s hardly fair!’ exclaimed Alistair ‘One side is supposed to win.’

‘No, they all fall down!’ replied the boy merrily.

‘Remind me never to enlist in your army.’ grinned Alistair, running an amused hand through Valahorn’s hair.

Valahorn laughed, throwing his head back in amusement before lining them up once more.

Crouching down to meet Valahorn’s level, Alistair smiled at the boy. ‘Son, someone very special has come to visit you.’

‘Who daddy?’ asked Valahorn ‘Is papa here?’

Alistair shook his head. ‘No papa Jowan hasn’t arrived yet. It’s your mother.’

The boy frowned and continued to line up the wooden soldiers. ‘Silly daddy. Mummy lives far away and cannot visit us.’

Alistair looked to the door where Leliana lingered. Silently he beckoned her forward, and she stepped hesitantly in Valahorn’s room. Her face lit up upon seeing the boy before her.

Valahorn looked curiously at the woman who had just appeared. She wore a green velvet dress, like many noble women wore in the Ferelden court, and her ginger hair fell loose down her shoulders. 

‘Hello Valahorn.’ Leliana spoke quietly. She threw him a smile. ‘I’m your mother.’

The boy tilted his head, looking at Leliana carefully. ‘You look like the lady in the painting.’ he remarked. Valahorn pointed to the wall beside his four-poster bed, where the painting of Leliana was hung. ‘That’s mummy there but she wears funny robes.’

The spymaster turned to look at the painting of herself on the wall. It was an image of a woman so unlike the one now in the flesh. Surrounded by a white light, she had been painted to appear fearless and perfect. Her white skin glowed with a flawless beauty and in her hand she held the golden sceptre of the Divine.

‘That is me, but I don’t like wearing those funny robes anymore. I never did like them much.’ she confessed. ‘I’m Leliana, your mummy.’

‘Go give your mummy a big hug.’ encouraged Alistair, patting the boy on the shoulder.

Valahorn frowned, looking at Leliana’s wounded face. ‘Did you get hurt in the brambles? Nanny doesn’t let us pick blackberries. She says we’ll get boo-boos on our skin.’

Lifting her hand to the many lesions on her face, Leliana nodded with tears in her eyes. ‘Yes Valahorn, I picked too many blackberries.’

Valahorn smiled, jumping up from the ground. He wrapped his hands around Leliana’s neck and hugged her tight. ‘Silly mummy don’t cry, nanny can pick blackberries for you now.’

Leliana held him tightly, her ginger hair spilling over him like a blanket. It was obvious how much she loved her son and Alistair could see it in that embrace.

‘I missed you so much.’ she whispered, kissing Valahorn’s head. ‘Mummy thought about you every second of every day.’

Valahorn smiled at her before turning back to his toys on the floor. ‘I know, papa told me you did. Do you want to play?’

Nodding eagerly, Leliana swept her ginger hair back and sat on the floor. Alistair remained by the bed, a smile on his face as he watched the pair together. It reminded him of when he first met Kieran back in Skyhold. He sat on the floor while his son showed him all his favourite books and it was one of the happiest moments in his life.

Several hours passed with Leliana never leaving her son’s side. She ended up reading his favourite book five times over and Valahorn finally drifted off in her lap. Cradling his head in the crook of her arm, she sat there staring at him with a content smile on her face.

‘He grew so big.’ she observed quietly ‘I always imagined what he would look like but I never imagined he would be so big? Not like the baby I held in my arms back in Skyhold.’. Her lip quivered. ‘I never even got to say goodbye to him. It has haunted me for so many years.’. She stroked the boy’s hair fondly. ‘He’s so much like Jowan.’

Alistair raised a brow. ‘He has your eyes and your stealth. Maker knows how a four-year-old can manage to outwit me as much as he does.’

The woman smiled at the king before looking back pensively to her son. ‘You never appreciate what you have until it has been taken away from you. Never forget that Alistair.’

Alistair rubbed his chin, pondering the words. ‘Teagan always says to me; you’ll never miss the water until the well runs dry. I suppose it means the same thing?’

‘Yes.’ replied Leliana. Her eyes flitted uncertainly to the man. ‘I suppose you want answers about all that has happened? You’ve kept my son safe, so I owe you that much?’

Alistair shook his head, throwing a sad smile to Leliana. ‘No. Not until you’re ready to speak about it. All I want is for you to be here with Valahorn. Just enjoy this moment Leliana, you deserve that.’

Leliana gave a small smile in appreciation.

Rubbing his tunic, Alistair’s stomach grumbled loudly. He grinned in embarrassment. ‘Well I don’t know about you but I’m getting peckish. Are you up for having supper with me and the children tonight?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t know what to say?’ replied Leliana anxiously, casting her attention back to the boy in her arms. ‘I’m not very good with people these days.’. Lifting her hand, she revealed to Alistair how it shook as she tried to hold it still. ‘Look at me Alistair? I don’t think I’m ready for being in the company of anyone?’

The king smiled. ‘That’s the thing about dinner, all you need to do is eat. Besides, between Valahorn, Kieran and Caerwyn you won’t get a word in even if you wished it. I’ll sit by you, you needn’t worry about a thing. Well, apart from protecting your dessert from Valahorn.’

‘Alright.’ smiled Leliana uncertainly ‘I’ll... I’ll do my best.’

****

Chilled winds from the north swept against us as we rode into Denerim that late evening. The guards holding torches at the gate welcomed us into the Palace and Jowan and I dismounted quietly.

The mage had made several attempts throughout our journey to apologise and I in turn had made several refusals to accept. We had stayed overnight at a tavern in the Bannorn, yet still I kept my distance from the mage. Secretly there was more to it than me being slighted by his raw observations on Cullen and I. Ever since I’d promised Jowan I would perform blood magic I had felt this terrible betrayal towards Cullen. Some part of me blamed Jowan for this and now I was angry at myself…and him.

‘All hail the king.’ chanted several knights.

The knights saluted at the entrance of the palace and we turned to see Alistair approaching. Lightly he sprung down the stairs, as eager as the children usually greeting us on our arrivals.

‘Ophelia, Jowan.’ welcomed Alistair ‘Thank the Maker you’ve finally arrived.’

Raising his arms in greeting, he shook Jowan’s hand and placed a polite kiss on my cheek. Jowan and I exchanged curious expressions. Never had Alistair been so enthusiastic to see us.

‘Our apologies for the late arrival, we were delayed.’ I explained ‘Our meeting in Crestwood took a little longer than expected.’

Jowan snickered at the comment and I threw him a glare.

Alistair appeared concerned by other matters. Drawing his hands through his short brown hair, he inhaled deeply. ‘Righto…so here’s the thing.’ he begun quickly ‘Yesterday our Divine rode into the palace and with her she has brought Leliana.’

Jowan and I looked up sharply, as if we’d misheard the king.

‘What?!’ we replied in unison.

‘Did you just say Leliana is here?’ asked Jowan quickly, his eyes darting up to the doors as if expecting her to jump out from behind them.

Alistair nodded. ‘It’s true, by the Maker I swear it. Leliana has returned and is in the palace right now.’

‘Where is she?’ demanded Jowan ‘I must see her.’

The mage began to walk up the steps and Alistair stepped in front of him, determined to stop the man. Jowan appeared surprised but halted in his tracks.

‘Okay let’s not be too hasty.’ appealed Alistair ‘We’re all surprised this has happened. The thing is, you need to know she’s in a terrible state. It’s clear Leliana has been severely mistreated. And Maker knows what else? We have to treat her delicately. As in, everyone rushing into her room and banging on about Sapientes might not be the best thing to do at present.’

‘Has she said what happened?’ I frowned ‘How did she escape?’

Alistair shook his head. ‘I don’t know. She’s not able to say. Well, that’s what I sense anyway? Stress can do that to a person.’

‘She’s come to see Valahorn, hasn’t she?’ observed Jowan.

‘Yes.’ replied Alistair ‘That’s about all she can focus on at the moment. I’d ask you both not to ask her about anything else. Not until she’s ready.’

Placing a concerned hand on Jowan, I nodded gently to him. ‘You should go to her. I’ll keep away, that is for the best I think.’

Jowan nodded with a concerned brow, as if he were a million miles away lost in his worries. He ran up the stairs, leaving Alistair and I alone.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I turned back to Alistair. ‘Leliana is back? Just like that?’

‘I know.’ muttered Alistair, his brows lifting in surprise. ‘I still can’t believe it. She’s a mess Ophelia, I really fear for her. For such a thing to happen to someone. How do you come back from that?’

‘Poor woman.’ I murmured. ‘This changes everything though? The templars wanting to go into the Nephilim realm to destroy Sapientes? All of that may be avoided now thanks to her return.’

The king turned to me curiously. ‘So the templars spoke to you about seeking aid from the mages?’

‘We didn’t accept their proposal.’ I replied.

Alistair sighed in relief. ‘Good, I was hoping as much. There was not much sense to their plan but you know how determined the Chantry can get.’. He turned to unbuckle my pack from the horse. ‘Did you have a safe journey?’ inquired Alistair, running his hand over the nose of my steed. ‘She’s a good horse this one. Ferelden Warmblood’s always travel well over long distances.’

‘Yes, she’s a fine horse. And yes, the trip was uneventful to the end.’ I replied, stretching my stiff arms. Riding long hours took its toll and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. ‘How’s Caerwyn?’

Alistair smiled. ‘She’s good. Oh, and has been asking me when you’re arriving about, hmm I don’t know, one million times today.’

Throwing him a smile, I felt relieved but also sad. ‘I miss her so much. I envy you being with her here every day.’

‘You’re always welcome to move back?’ suggested Alistair ‘I can’t promise we won’t kill each other. Where’s the fun in that? But you’ve got a home here. Just say the word.’

‘I’m sure the Teyrn of Gwaren’s daughter will enjoy that in future years to come?’ I teased ‘Your ex-wife sleeping next door to your newlywed marital chambers? Sounds wonderful!’

Alistair hesitated, his brown eyes lifting in surprise. ‘You’ve heard of my courtship with Theresa of Gwaren? Well we’re in the early days of courtship, there’s no engagement or anything like that.’

Laughing at the king as he fidgeted, I turned back to my pack. ‘Don’t fret, I’m happy you’re finally with someone. Someone who hopefully makes you happy? Andraste knows I failed in that role spectacularly. It doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy with someone else Alistair.’

‘Thank you, Ophelia.’ he replied. ‘I also hope you will meet someone you can love with all your heart.’. He ran his eyes across me, perhaps noticing the muddied state I was in after travelling along a boggy Imperial highway. ‘How’s Skyhold anyway? Have you been taking care of yourself up there? Eating all your vegetables. Saying your prayers. That kind of thing?’

Laughing at the king, I crossed my arms playfully. ‘Have you?’

Alistair grinned, tapping his crown. ‘I’m king, I can eat biscuits all day and no one will challenge me’. He tapped his boot on the stone, waiting for a reply. ‘Well? Not going to mention how much fun it is up in the Frostyback Mountains?’

‘You loathe to talk about Skyhold.’ I jested ‘Nearly as much as you loathe me?’

‘You were the one who left me as I recall?’ quipped Alistair ‘I loathe the idea you’ve filled my keep with apostates. But I’ve never loathed you and you know it.’. He frowned, noticing my sullenness. ‘Is anything else the matter? I detect a whiff of glumness?’

‘It’s called needing a bath.’ I teased. Grabbing my pack from my horse, I turned back to the man with a feigned smile. ‘I’m great, it’s just been a long few days.’

Alistair lifted the pack off me and commenced up the stairs. ‘Come on then, let’s get you settled in the dungeon.’. He winked playfully at me ‘Oh, I mean the guest quarters.’

****

Rushing through the palace, Jowan hastily made his way up the flight of stairs to the upper wing of the royal quarters. Several knights nodded as he stopped to ask for directions as to where Leliana was staying. They pointed him to the eastern wing and Jowan almost tripped over his feet as he ran to the guest chambers.

Finally he faced Leliana’s door and knocked softly. His chest pounded as he waited, desperate for the door to open.

‘Leliana it’s me Jowan.’ he called out, his fingernails running against the woodgrain. ‘Please let me in. Please.’

He could hear feet scurrying on the other side and then suddenly the door swung open. Jowan’s blood grew cold as he looked upon the gaunt woman before him, so emaciated and riddled with old scars and fresh wounds. In her night shift, he could see the bandages covering her body. Many of them revealed blood stains that had seeped through the gauze.

They both stood face to face, unable to say a word except look fearfully at each other. Jowan extended his arms and the pair violently embraced. Leliana fell into Jowan’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

‘Leliana, I’m so sorry.’ whispered Jowan desperately ‘I’m so terribly sorry.’. Tears fell from his eyes as her held her tight to his chest. He could not fathom the nightmares she had been through but he could feel her terror. It was enough to make him weep with sadness.

‘You’re alive.’ Leliana cried. Her wet face pressed against his cheek. ‘I didn’t think…. I thought you were dead. We were doomed if that happened. You are the key Jowan. You must save us. You’re our only hope now. I was petrified he had gotten to you.’

‘I’m here Leliana, I’m fine.’. Jowan’s slender hands pulled her tighter to him, desperately keeping her close as if he feared to lose her if he let her go. ‘But you're clearly not. I won’t let him touch you ever again.’ swore the mage ‘You are safe with me now.’

Her green eyes glistened with tears as she looked into his eyes. ‘None of us are safe from that evil. I will not speak his name. He deserves no name. He is a plague. Maker curse him…’. She burst into tears, crying into his shoulder once more.

‘It’s alright Leliana.’ hushed Jowan. ‘I’ll protect you from him. Now you are here there is no way he can have you back.’

‘How?!’ cried out Leliana ‘He could come any moment and take any of us. Do you not fear him as I do?!’

The mage drew her into the room, closing the door swiftly. He encouraged her to take a seat beside him with a gentle pat on her bed. Drawing a blanket from the edge, he wrapped it around her shoulders as she settled next to him.

‘This palace is a fortress against Sapientes.’ Jowan reassured ‘When I came here with Valahorn I cloaked Denerim palace in a powerful spell. The place is littered with magical runes that prevent any evil from ever entering here.’

Wiping the tears in her eyes, Leliana shook her head. ‘There is no magic that can stop him Jowan, you know that.’’

The mage scoffed. ‘No arcane magic sanctified by the Chantry.’ argued Jowan ‘I used an ancient form of blood magic to protect this place. A terribly strong spell using more blood then I dare to admit, but I did what was necessary. We must do what is necessary when it comes to Sapientes. That halfwit taught me how to shield myself from demons, no doubt he wasn’t expecting me to use his own magic against himself one day. Nothing can penetrate this palace. No demon, spirit, godly soul… nothing. You are safe here.’

‘Alistair allowed you to do all this?’ replied Leliana hopefully ‘He is open to your magic?’

‘Of course not.’ muttered Jowan ‘It’s the reason I had to leave Valahorn here and train the mages in Skyhold. We weren’t going to abandon you to that devil. But I knew no one in Thedas would listen to my advice. They fear the magic required to defeat him.’. The mage sighed. ‘Alistair knows I’ve protected this palace with strong enchantments but I lied to him. Plain and simple. He knows nothing about the blood magic I performed to make this a sanctuary. The abundance of bloodthirsty templars in the region these days convinced me to keep quiet.’

Grabbing his hands, Leliana squeezed them desperately. ‘You need to train the mages with this magic. Teach as many as you can. It is the only way we stand a chance.’

Jowan nodded in determination. ‘I know.’ he replied ‘That was exactly what I recommended to the Templar Order a few days ago. It didn’t go down too well.’

‘Of course it didn’t.’ scorned Leliana ‘They do not understand the enemy they face, and they do not see that our only chance at defeating Sapientes is with dark magic.’

‘I could have used you in that meeting.’ muttered Jowan ‘My words fell on deaf ears.’

‘Then I will order them.’ murmured Leliana darkly. Her eyes flashed to the mage. ‘I am still the rightful Divine. Let them hear the truth from my lips and know it is the Maker’s will.’

‘Your templars are hostile to mages.’ warned Jowan ‘I doubt even you could sway them? They hate magic as it is. But blood magic? No, they’re too brainwashed to see reason. And with Cassandra as Divine she has done nothing to ease their fear of magic over the years. She has strengthened their fear, if anything?’

Leliana frowned. ‘Has she not fought to find a way to save me? Did you not receive my note? I sent word to you and her instructing we use the mages.’

‘Yes indeed I read it,’ sighed Jowan ‘about three days ago on a mere chance encounter with the templars. They keep me at a distance, you need to know I have no involvement where the Chantry or Ferelden is concerned. Cassandra and Alistair work tirelessly at training the templars to defeat Sapientes but it’s like arming a soldier with a feather and telling them to fight an army of swords. They do not realise their magical defence is useless. Instead Ferelden and the Chantry shun all use of magic. They fear the apostate influence so they withhold all support.’

‘We need the mages if we are to survive this.’ cried out Leliana, growing more and more agitated. ‘We need you to lead them or we will all perish.’

Jowan placed a hand on hers. ‘I know.’ he replied gently. ‘I promise we’ll find a way. When I return to Skyhold I will begin training my mages with the magic Sapientes taught me.’. He frowned, looking away. ‘You’re going to have to find a way to make Alistair and Cassandra understand. Or make them understand.’. Noticing the fear in Leliana’s eyes, the mage shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about that tonight. You are safe here. Rest Leliana, I’ll protect you and Valahorn until my final breath. Of that, I swear.’


	132. The Faithful and the Faithless

News of Divine Victoria’s return spread like wild fire throughout the city of Val Royeaux, and beyond. It was said that Divine Victoria had floated from the heavens and that the Maker had delivered her onto the ground of the Grand Cathedral, returning her to the people once more. The faithful declared it a miraculous act of the Maker. In awe and wonder the loyal subjects came out in the thousands to the Grand Cathedral to pay homage to the place Divine Victoria had been returned to. Flowers were placed by the statue of Leliana in the main square of the city, and three sessions of prayers a day were scheduled in the Grand Cathedral to honour her return.

While the masses celebrated, an emergency meeting of the Council of Clerics had been called. The Grand Cleric of each region across Thedas had been summoned to Val Royeaux to take part in The Grand Consensus. Aside from the Divine, the Grand Clerics were the highest-ranking members in the Andrastian Chantry and it was their duty to decide who would sit as the leader of the Church. At present there were two women who held that role, and it was up to the Grand Clerics to decide which one remained and which one would have to step down.

In the Chantry library that morning, the Knight-Vigilante and Grand Cleric of Val Royeaux met to discuss the crisis. Knight-Vigilante Robard was the penultimate leader of the Templar Order in Thedas, and Grand Cleric Celeste held her title of Grand Cleric in Orlais. 

‘This doesn’t feel like the right time to be doing this.’ observed Knight-Vigilante Robard gruffly. Sitting at a table in the Chantry library, the templar tapped his quill impatiently on a list of clerics that were soon to arrive. ‘This whole matter of who is the rightful Divine should be delayed until Divine Elizabeth returns to Val Royeaux.’

‘Our Divine Victoria has returned.’ replied Grand Cleric Celeste impatiently ‘We must come to an agreement now as to who leads us or see the Chantry fall to pieces!’

‘And by agreement you mean majority vote between your clerics?’ grumbled the Knight-Vigilante. ‘No matter what the rest of us want?’

‘The Council of Clerics have always decided the Divine that way.’ argued the Grand Cleric sternly. ‘We have two Divines at the head of the church. One must step down and we must decide who.’

‘It’s a simple vote then,’ muttered Robard ‘only one of those women acts like the Divine should.’

The Grand Cleric threw a displeased look at the man. ‘Try not to judge Robard. The Maker works in mysterious ways and we must try not to scrutinise his methods.’

‘I refuse to believe that the Maker asked Divine Victoria to reproduce with that degenerate maleficar Jowan MacLothlorean and then appoint him as her Left Hand.’ glowered the Knight-Vigilante. Robard banged his fist loudly on the table, causing several brethren reading tomes nearby to jump in fright.

‘Knight-Vigilante.’ warned Grand Cleric Celeste.

Robard puffed his cheeks defiantly. ‘I won’t apologise. It’s an insult to the faithful that their own Devine would form such a union with one of the Maker’s fallen. Divine Victoria is a woman of loose morals that succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh with a blood mage. Such is the act of a sinner, not our most holy figure of the Chantry.’

The Grand Cleric shook her head. ‘Divine Justinia V wrote of Divine Victoria’s sacred relationship with the Maker. She believed for many years that Leliana was a vessel through which the Maker was communicating with. It is how she came to serve as the Left Hand to Divine Justinia. We cannot dispute the faith that our former Divine held. Leliana is special.’

The Knight-Vigilante appeared unconvinced. ‘No honourable woman has a child with a blood mage and then lies and says it is the offspring of a templar in my order. And not just any commander, but one of my Knight-Commanders! The poor lad, to be deceived by such a figurehead?! Divine Victoria mocked the Templar Order by consorting with one of the Maker’s fallen. No Divine acts in such a promiscuous and unholy manner.’

‘No Divine has been resurrected before our very eyes, aside from Divine Victoria.’ reminded Grand Cleric Celeste sagely. She sighed, noticing the troubled expression on Robard’s face. ‘When all of the Grand Clerics arrive here I will ensure they consider all the facts before us, both good and bad. I should prepare the room; they will be here soon.’

The Knight-Vigilante sighed, tapping the table impatiently. ‘Celeste, Maker guide you on this decision. The rightful Divine is a position the Grand Clerics must account for, and so too is the future you lay out for us all.’

***

The midday bells of the Chantry tolled in Denerim as Leliana sat in the Palace District by herself. The Palace District in Denerim was one of the city’s major districts, and entailed of a large collection of fortifications and battlements which concealed the immense structure within. The district was located to the east of Fort Drakon and south west of the Ferelden Royal Palace from which the district took its name.

It was here, in the Palace District, that the birthplace of Andraste was marked. While people flocked to Denerim for it’s many eclectic boutiques, fine manors, lively taverns and beautiful Chantry building, Leliana came now to pay her respects to the prophet. A great rock had been erected in respects to Andraste, adorned with a simple message of peace. It was known as the Birth Rock and many people made the pilgrimage from all over Thedas to touch the monument. Leliana admired the rock for it’s humble nature. It was not a florid carved statue that the Orlesians were fond of, nor was it gilded in gold as the Tevinters would have been inclined to erect. In it’s simplicity this monument was just a rock and it was created by the Maker. If anything had to honour Andraste, Leliana was glad it was this particular monument.

Leliana felt strange being out by herself in Denerim. Alistair and Cassandra had warned Leliana not to stray from the Palace so soon after her ordeal, and while she knew their fears stemmed from concern she also desired to come here and just be alone with Andraste’s Birth Rock. Alistair’s guards had cleared the area so she could sit here undisturbed, and although she knew there were watchful soldiers nearby it felt as close to a peaceful moment as she could manage. 

An hour passed as she prayed in silence, however she became distracted as the guards gathered around a man requesting to pass into the square. She turned to see the top of the man’s sandy hair behind the guards and knew instantly who it was. Her face turned back to the stone and she closed her eyes in dismay.

‘Leli.’ called a deep voice from behind her. ‘Leli, it’s me.’

Her eyes dropped to the ground, unable to face the templar.

‘Cullen.’ she replied solemnly.

His shadow fell beside and she looked up to see the Commander standing behind her. His amber eyes were filled with uncertainty as he moved closer to her.

‘Maker…. Leli what has happened to you?’ exclaimed Cullen fearfully. His hand pressed to his chest plate, touching his heart. ‘You have no idea how good it is to see you.’

Leliana remained quiet as he looked over her face in shock. Riddled with wounds, she felt embarrassed and ashamed to be stared at in horror by all that greeted her these days.

Cullen crouched down to her, his hands desperate to cup her wounded face. Cullen began to reach for her but she jumped up from the ground and took several paces back.

‘No.’ she replied hastily.

Cullen frowned, worried that he had frightened her. ‘I’m sorry’. he apologised ‘For everything that you have been through, I’m so sorry. Leli please...’

‘You cannot call me that.’ she observed coldly ‘I am not your Leli. Not anymore.’

Cullen shook his head apologetically. ‘Of course not. I didn’t mean…sorry, I didn’t-’

She raised her hand to stop him. It shook terribly and she drew it down hastily to conceal the movement.

‘I don’t want that.’ she informed angrily ‘I don’t want to hear how sorry you are. I don’t need your pity. Whatever the reason you have come here, I don’t want it.’

The templar nodded seriously, placing his hand calmly to rest on the hilt of his sword. ‘You have every reason to feel that way. I deserve nothing less than your anger. But hear me when I say I never wanted this to happen to you. Maker I swear this was never what I thought would have happened when we left you in that damn cave.’

‘What did you think was going to happen to me?’ asked Leliana flatly ‘You’d leave me to die in isolation? Was that a better outcome for me?’

The Commander shook his head seriously. ‘Not at all. We would have come back to you and released you when we came to our senses. You must know Jowan and I were incredibly angry at the time. We weren’t thinking straight. I was so stressed I couldn’t think straight. All I could think was….’. He sighed, refusing to finish. ‘In the end my only concern was for you. The last three years have been a testament to that, all I have done is train my templars night and day to better our chances of saving you and defeating Sapientes. I’ve done nothing else except live and breathe your cause.’

‘Then you’ve invested your time poorly.’ muttered Leliana ‘The templars can do nothing to defeat Sapientes. Not without the mages.’

‘Which is what we are doing now.’ replied Cullen determinedly. ‘After we received your message, we realised your wishes. Cassandra has secured the aid of the Orlesian Circle and we were nearly ready to enter the Nephilim Realm.’

The spymaster laughed bitterly in reply, shaking her head cynically at the templar. ‘Then it is a blessing I returned when I did, for if you continued along with that ludicrous plan you would all be dead.’

The Commander looked seriously to her; his amber eyes ardent in their declaration. ‘If that were the case, we were prepared to sacrifice our lives for you.’

‘You are too reckless with your sacrifice.’ she chastised ‘Learn to honour the sanctity of life.’

‘It’s mine to do what I want with.’ retorted Cullen seriously ‘I wouldn’t have left you alone in that place forever, no matter the consequences.’

Leliana found herself unable to tear herself from Cullen’s ardent gaze. There was truth in his voice and she knew he meant every word. Growing quiet, she looked up at the stone of Andraste.

‘She and I are so very alike.’ murmured Leliana ‘Despite all that has happened I am humbled, even in my darkest hour, for that honour. After Andraste fled the Imperium and married Maferath, it is said she appealed to the gods but her prayers went unanswered. So desperately she prayed and when the silence of the Maker greeted her she refused to grow bitter. Her faith was tested but she remained dedicated. She would sing her love for the Maker and one day the Maker listened. He was enchanted by her voice and invited her to join him by his side. Andraste encouraged him to return to humanity and forgive them. She compelled her people, the Alamarri and others, to accept the one true god of Thedas.’.

Placing her hands on the stone, Leliana whispered silent prayers before turning back to Cullen.

‘I did as Andraste did, in the Nephilim Realm.' she continued 'The Golden Throne was abandoned, Sapientes was correct about that. The Maker had abandoned us and I prayed and prayed for his mercy. There was nothing but silence. He would not listen to me.’. Leliana’s palms pressed harder against the stone. ‘You have no idea what silence is like in Fade. It is an abyss of despondency. A void of hopelessness. When I realised my prayers were being ignored, I began to sing. Not out of vanity that I hoped the Maker would be enchanted. but because I felt it was the only way that he may listen. I sang night and day for a year and forty-eight days. Non-stop until it drove me mad.’.

Tears spilled from her eyes as she looked up to the templar.

‘He came to me, Cullen.' she asserted 'No glorious words of rapture can describe what it feels to look upon his majesty. My heart bled when he came before me. The Maker granted me his ear and I in turn asked him to return to humanity and forgive us.’

Leliana’s tears fell as she clasped her hands in prayed. ‘The Maker accepted and he helped me escape, but only on two conditions. Firstly, we must destroy Sapientes and let the Maker return to his Golden Throne. Secondly, we must allow Valahorn to rise up as a leader to unite the people and accept the one true god of Thedas. The Maker will not stay unless the people are united and he had placed his faith in Valahorn for such a role.’

The Knight-Commander was taken aback. Cullen knew Leliana too well to know what she said was not a fabricated story. There was brutal honesty in her voice and something more divine than either he or her told him he must believe her.

Kneeling before the woman, Cullen lowered his head. ‘In this mission, I am your humble servant.’

‘I ask only that you serve the Maker humbly.’ replied Leliana ‘And aid me in his requests.’

‘Neither of those are simple feats.’ observed Cullen gravely. He ran his eyes up and down the woman, noticing the extent of her injuries up close. ‘I’ll help you in any way I can. I know you don’t want to hear my apology but I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me one day?’

‘Train with the mages at Skyhold and allow them to practice the maleficarum arts.’ informed Leliana sharply. She met his disgusted look with determination. ‘You want forgiveness? That is the price.’ 

‘Blood magic?’ scorned Cullen. Appearing to stop himself from chastising the woman, he turned away to look at the stone before him. Pensively he circled the monument before arriving back in front of her. ‘Leliana,’ he informed darkly ‘I know you’ve been through a torment none of us could ever fathom. For that reason I will assume it is the anguish of that experience that would lead you to suggest such a thing. I understand what that does to a person.’

Her eyes revealed a flash of fury as she looked to the templar. ‘You suffered a few days at the whim of a few demons in the Kinloch Hold. How could you possibly understand what three years of being prisoner to that demon and his gathering would do to a person?’

Her breathing grew rapid as she fell forward on her hands and knees.

Cullen rushed to her fearfully as she began to scream violently.

‘The pain was gruelling and it never never ended!!!!’ she howled, bashing her fists against the stone. ‘I’ll do anything, anything, just make him stop!’

Her eyes flashed up wildly, as if she had forgotten where she was. In a frenzied moment she lashed out at Cullen, scratching his cheek furiously with her sharp nails. A deep line of blood formed on the templar’s cheek and trickled down his jaw.

‘GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FIEND!’ she screamed ‘I’ll kill you. I’ll kill them all. No! No don’t do that…_Maker no, anything but that_…’

The templar desperately tried to clutch her arms as she flailed at him, trying to beat and scratch him. Cullen held his hand up to placate the guards rushing to them, confused as to what was unfolding.

‘She’s fine, just give her a moment.’ urged Cullen ‘Leliana, it’s me. I’m not here to hurt you. It’s me, Cullen.’

Her angry face transformed from anger to shock, her green eyes filled with tears as she realised who he was.

‘Cullen…I didn’t…I’m so sorry.’

She burst into tears, sobbing into a ball against his chest as Cullen held her close.

‘It’s okay Leliana.’ Cullen murmured, pressing his face into her ginger hair as he embraced her. ‘It’s alright,’ he whispered ‘I understand completely. I’m here now Leli. I’m here for you.’


	133. Dreams

Saddled on his white steed, Michel de Chevin had ridden from his manor in Montsimmard at sunrise with a fond farewell. His wife Rose had been greatly saddened to hear that he was off again so soon after his arrival home, and Michel felt the same way. While there much to celebrate upon learning that Michel was to be the Emperor’s new Champion, there was also cause for heartache. The battle for the Grove of Pillars had taken him away from his wife for six weeks, and in the early stages of a marriage it was very difficult to be apart for so long. Michel longed for her tenderness and sweet laughter, and now found he had to go without once more.

Rose cut a lock of her blonde hair and placed it in a pouch of dried rose petals, gifting it to her husband as he rode out. If she could not go with him, she suggested Michel take a part of her with him wherever he travelled to remind him of their eternal love.

The chevalier swore to his love that he would return as soon as he could.

Riding with the agile swiftness of an elf, Michel galloped along the Imperial Highway past Jader. As he rode onwards his white horse’s hooves became stained with the red dry dirt of the Imperial Highway and at that moment he knew he had finally crossed over into Ferelden territory. It felt strange to be on Ferelden soil after so long, and yet he couldn’t help but feel a slight desire to see the rolling hills he had often rode fondly through in previous years.

As Michel approached Crestwood he was greeted by wild flowers covering the ground, sweeping out all around him like a beautiful blanket. Poppies, comfrey, belladonna, eyebright, sage, dandelion and nettle splashed out in bright patches of red, purple, white, green and yellow. The chevalier considered it to be one of the most beautiful fields he’d ever seen and his spirits lifted significantly as he galloped towards the keep. 

Upon arriving at Caer Bronach, Michel was surprised to learn from a Knight-Captain Arrus that Knight-Commander Cullen had departed unexpectedly to the palace upon receiving news that Divine Victoria was alive and in Denerim with Divine Elizabeth. It was not known when Cullen would return, and Arrus apologetically suggested Michel should stay at Caer Bronach until the Commander returned.

The chevalier was astonished by the news of Leliana’s return, yet also reluctant to wait around in a templar encampment until Cullen decided to come back. Who knew when he would return? Indeed Michel was uncertain whether his services were needed at all, now that it appeared Leliana had escaped from the demon Sapientes. Secretly Michel longed to ride back into Orlais once more, yet he knew he needed to hear the words from Cullen that he was no longer required to aid the Templar Order before he could return. Emperor Gaspard would not be pleased unless Michel had direct orders from the Knight-Commander himself.

And so politely Michel declined the invitation by Knight-Captain’s Arrus to stay at the keep and decided to ride on into Denerim to address the Knight-Commander directly.

There was a strange excitement on the road that afternoon as he journied towards the Ferelden city. Many travellers stopped to talk about the return of Divine Victoria, thrilled by the mysterious arrival of their Most Holy. Michel counted fifty or so men and women trudging along the side of the road, intent to make the long walk to Denerim in the hopes of seeing a glimpse of Divine Victoria and possibly receive her blessing. 

As evening approached Michel found himself still a day’s travel from Denerim and fatigued from his long ride from Orlais. Desperately tired, he was in need of an inn and a meal. The chevalier rode along the dark and isolated road several hours further after sunset searching for an inn and finally came across some lodgings that he felt extremely uncomfortable to retire to.

_The Inn at Tanteridge._

Ringing the bell at the main house by the mill, he was greeted by the Orlesian owners of the Inn. They were delighted to see The Maister of Blades once more, and inquired eagerly of his life in Orlais in the service of their Emperor Gaspard. Michel had to politely decline their invitation to visit the Charmed Riverside Garden the next day, and finally escaped the chatter of his hosts with a key to his room.

To Michel’s relief the room he was given was not the one he had spent several intimate nights in with the Inquisitor. The chevalier found it hard to think back on those memories now he was with another woman. He loved his wife Rose so much that he felt a betrayal just being in this inn, let alone allowing his mind to wander to former days spent there. Determined not to let the situation bother him, he set his mind on getting a good night’s sleep.

Ever since Michel had left Ferelden he had refused to think on his relationship with Ophelia Trevelyan. He willed her from his memory in a belief that ignorance was bliss. And while at first he unintentionally languished constantly in their tragic love story, he found forcing himself never to indulge on the subject had helped. The knight focused on his duties to Orlais and swore never to think about Ophelia again. Pushing out those memories were easier for Michel than processing them, and so he shut off his thoughts of her and him together. Life went on and one day Michel met his future wife, Rose. She stole his heart and they had been together ever since. Michel did not mention much of Ophelia to his wife, and his wife never cared to inquire about their relationship in detail. For all parties concerned, his relationship with the Inquisitor was a distant and lacklustre memory.

It was late that evening as Michel tiredly undressed in his room and fell under the soft blankets, relishing the feel of fine Orlesian cotton sheets - despite being in Ferelden. His porcelain white cheek sank into the feather pillow and the chevalier drifted off into a blissful sleep. Yet soon he was tossing and turning, unable to stir from the dreams that filled his mind….

_Michel was in sitting in the Charmed Riverside Garden, key tied around his neck, and before him was Ophelia. She was wearing a sheer cotton sun dress and boots, and it was the first time he had seen her dressed so casually. He was intrigued by Ferelden fashions, so plain and lacking the detail of Orlesian attire. To see a woman like Ophelia so simply dressed made her beauty stand out more. The dress was short enough to reveal her lower thigh and he longed to reach out and feel her warm skin. She looked at him nervously, her green eyes darting around the garden several times before turning to him more decidedly._

_‘I want you to make love to me Michel, here, in this garden.’ she confessed._

Michel stirred from his sleep and sat up in his bed. Rubbing his tired eyes, he looked to the window of his lodgings and noticed it was still very dark outside. Taking a sip of water from his bedside table, the chevalier lay down and drifted into a deep sleep once more….

_Ophelia was before him in the garden, tears in her eyes as she looked at him affectionately._

_‘The truth is Cullen broke my heart, but not all of it for you also had a piece.’ she confessed ‘Why else would I feel what I am feeling for you? What I have been feeling for you for a while now? If you would have it, I’d give my heart to you willingly.’_

_Michel grabbed her hands in his, lowering his gaze to them fondly before looking up at Ophelia. ‘Only if you accept mine?’ _

_He drew his lips to hers hungrily. He knew he couldn’t plant another polite kiss on her mouth. All his gentlemanly restraint was cast aside as he passionately kissed her._

Michel’s blue eyes blinked open again and he groaned impatiently, knowing it was still the middle of the night as he lay in his bed. All he wanted to do was wake up and start the day’s journey, yet he needed the rest. He needed to sleep. Patting his pillow restlessly he settled back down, falling asleep once more…..

_Michel fell to his knees before Ophelia’s naked body. His lips drew to her thigh, and he kissed hungrily upwards to her sex. His heart beat so hard it hurt, and his own erection ached with desire as he tasted her essence for the first time. His tongue met her soft slit and to his delight it was already juicy as the ripe pear he held in his hand. He squeezed the fruit onto her clit, and watched the droplets fall onto her pulsing bud that plumped up and begged for his attention. His manhood twinged again as he ran his tongue along her inner folds, the warmth of her pink depths arousing him, and he teased his way to her nub. Her body responded to his ravenous mouth, and her shyness subsided as she gently gyrated her pink pearl against his hungry tongue that melted onto her clit._

_Michel felt her hands scrunch up his blond hair, pulling him to her core. He breathed in her erotic feminine scent as he lapped enthusiastically. Michel always relished the taste of an excited woman. Her breasts were rising and falling and he knew she was close to releasing. Michel felt her blossoming clit on his tongue and he held it there with delight as her body shook through the first orgasm that he would give her. He lingered a moment longer to greedily lap at her juices that pooled as she came. He couldn’t confess to her how much he loved that moment his mouth was filled with her essence, but she would soon come to see it was one of his favourite parts of coitus. _

_Michel drew up to Ophelia with a smile as she looked back at him with hazy eyes. He drew her into a kiss, and he felt a warmth in his belly as he noticed how much she was enjoying the taste of herself, his saliva and the pear juice. _

_‘That was what we Orlesians call the pièce de résistance.’ grinned Michel, drawing his fingers into his mouth as he sucked them dry._

Jumping up in his bed, Michel’s breathing was rapid and a sweat had formed on his brow. The chevalier ached beneath the sheets, and ran his hand to his hot stiff cock. It pulsated with blood and Michel moaned in agony, knowing there was nothing to do now but relieve himself. His eyes lulled shut once more as he dreamily stroked his pikestaff up and down….

_Cupping Ophelia’s face gently, he looked into her eyes as he penetrated her for the first time._

_‘Ar lath math.’ he whispered._

_He worried that he would hurt her at first, his manhood being much larger than the average cock. Some women in the past that he had bedded had confessed his size was hard to take at first, yet readily welcomed it when they got accustomed. Michel could feel how wet Ophelia was but she was tight, so he slowly allowed her body to adjust to him, moving in and out to coat his cock in more of her essence. Finally he filled her deep and the two of them connected intimately._

_‘What does that mean?’ Ophelia whispered, looking into his eyes as he stayed deep inside her. 'What you just said then?'_

_Michel’s belly felt warm with desire as he looked down at her. His heart felt like it would explode, as did his manhood encased in her warm chamber._

_‘Ar lath math. It means I love you.’ he whispered back, an affectionate smile on his face._

_‘Ar lath math.’ Ophelia whispered back to him._

_Michel began to thrust deeper and more forcefully, adjusting his hips to aim his manhood at a specific angle he knew Ophelia would enjoy. She cried out every time he filled her deep, hitting that magical spot that he knew made women shudder in ecstasy. Her lips whispered oh Maker every time he thrust. His own desire was overtaking him now and placing his arms on either side of the woman he began to drown himself in her canal. He pounded into Ophelia as one hand cheekily reached to rub her clit, causing her to clench hard on his cock as she came again._

_Michel moaned deeply, a low guttural sound in his throat of agonising pleasure as he continued to thrust into Ophelia. A disciplined chevalier never stopped and he knew he had to keep on fighting through this wave. Rolling his hips deeper, his phallus rooted deep. The urge to come was too great. He desperately clutched her head, drawing his hazy blue eyes to her lust filled green. Resting on his elbows he thrust into her harder and harder until they both cried out in pleasure, beholding that expression of pure ecstasy on each other’s face as they witnessed each other’s orgasm…….. _

‘_Ma emma lath, ma vhenan’ara_!!!!’ Michel cried out as he ejaculated hard into the soft sheets of his bed.

Awaking suddenly, the chevalier was panting breathlessly. His blonde hair was wet from the sweat on his face and it felt as if all that he had dreamed had just occurred as he woke shaking in the throes of passion. Hand still wrapped tight around his cock; he slowly milked the last few sticking drops of cream from his rod before arising from his bed. Michel frowned, noticing a large wad of semen had soaked into the white sheets. A slight tinge of pink flushed his cheeks realising he had woken up in such a manner.

As the chevalier tiredly pulled on his armour, the sun began to peak over the horizon and rays spilled through his window. He knew there was nothing to be gained from recalling the dreams of that night. Dreams were just that, a series of pictures and words that meant nothing upon waking.

It was time he mounted his horse and ride on to Denerim.


	134. A Powerful Player

In the absence of any real reason to be at Denerim Palace other than visit Caerwyn, I happily spent the morning with my daughter in her nursery. A rare moment we were together, I was eager to take it. We sang songs, dressed up toys and played with blocks until my face hurt from smiling. Her chubby fingers wrapped around my hair as I read her a story about three goats, and when she drifted off for her morning nap I felt sad to leave her to sleep in her bed.

Keen to avoid certain guests in the palace I decided the safest place to retire was one no one would care to venture near. Seated on the steps of the side entrance to the washing rooms, I played tug of war with one of the Mabari’s and a lone sock I had discovered on the ground. The dog’s impressive jaw locked onto the garment and pulled back eagerly, shaking his head from time to time in order to loosen my grip. Grinning I pulled harder and the dog growled playfully before yanking back harder. The war hound was strong and I found myself using all my strength to hold on to the old sock before losing it to the dog. With a happy wag of his tail he sat on the lower step and began to chew the prized item. 

We sat there enjoying the sunny day until the dog’s head lifted to look behind me, noticing an intruder approaching. He barked once before returning to his sock, and I turned to notice Jowan descending the stairs. He approached swiftly, sitting down beside me on the steps. An unsavoury pile of horse dung sat five steps below us, and the irritating yell of the horse master echoed in the yard. The mage’s eyes wandered about the courtyard, taking in the place with displeasure.

‘I have to ask.’ mused Jowan.

‘What?’ I replied with a curious smirk.

The mage waved his hand. ‘Why do you always insist on spending time alone in the worst places imaginable?’

He laughed, nudging his shoulder against mine. 

‘I’m sorry.’ I muttered.

‘You should be, it stinks of manure here.’ reprimanded Jowan with a grin.

Shaking my head, I threw him an apologetic smile. ‘Not for this, but for ignoring you on the road. I shouldn’t have done that. I was being stubborn.’

‘I shouldn’t have said what I did about you and Cullen.’ apologised Jowan ‘No matter my opinion about the man, I shouldn’t have said that. I feel like a right and proper twit.’

‘Forget about it.’ I dismissed ‘You were just concerned. You’ve been here for me when everyone else has failed. Including Cullen. I owe placing a little trust in you when you rave on about Cullen.’

‘I don’t rave, I rant.’ corrected Jowan smugly ‘And while I wish us never to fight again, I can’t say I feel bad about my assessment of Cullen. I care about you too much to entertain you with fanciful lies about the man.’. The mage sighed, drawing up his sleeves as the sun beat down on us. ‘What a week. Nothing ever happens in Skyhold except for the odd potion exploding in the supplies cupboard and then wham – we’re entertaining templars and Leliana.’

From the gossip I’d heard around the palace that day, Leliana had arrived beaten to a pulp and acting timid as a mouse. Fearing the question, I decided to ask it anyway.

‘How is she doing?’

Jowan was concerned but he feigned a confident nod of assurance. ‘Not very good, but she’ll survive because she’s stronger than all of us put together. It’s hard for her to talk about it. She won’t say exactly what happened. Only that we must fight Sapientes with real magic.’

‘Really?’ I replied in shock. Frowning at the mage, I didn’t know whether he was joking or not? ‘Leliana said to you that she wants our mages to fight Sapientes using blood magic? Are you being serious?’

‘Only she and I have had the pleasure of entertaining this demonic wretch.’ muttered Jowan ‘We know this is the only way to defeat him.’

Grimacing, I knew it was futile to convince the power players concerned. ‘Cassandra, Alistair and Cullen abhor blood magic. And in turn, so too will the Chantry, The Templar Order and Kingdom of Ferelden.’

‘We’re not asking them to love blood magic.’ argued Jowan ‘Just asking them to use the best weapon they have to address the problem. They can go on their merry way hating magic ’til the cows come home after we stop Sapientes using blood magic.’

‘A fine idea but I fear Leliana won’t be able to convince them?’ I frowned ‘She never had much sway where any of them were concerned.’. Turning to my friend, I knew he needed to know what I had recently learned. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. Cassandra released a manifesto a year back to the Chantry and the Templar Order. It stated her intention to return the mages of Ferelden back into circle towers but with a loose templar presence. Whatever that means? But her intention was clear enough. To shove us back behind stone walls.’

‘Is that so?’ replied Jowan icily. He looked furious as he sharply brushed his sleeves. ‘She told you this?’

‘Cullen showed me her letter the other day.’ I confided ‘I didn’t want to burden you with that at the time, not after what Arrus had said about Valahorn. But you need to know Cassandra is very much an enemy of the mages, and to all free mages in Ferelden.’

‘Does it make me a bad person to feel regret that I spared her life back in Skyhold?’ he muttered angrily ‘Such a preachy, cold and vindictive woman. Sitting on her high horse and weaving lies to the people about mages. We’ve fought so hard to escape those prisons; how could she dismiss the struggle of so many men and women? We fought for her cause during the Inquisition. She just used us? How could she do that?!’

Looking to my friend cynically, I knew the exact reason. ‘She’s a Seeker.’

Clutching his head in his hands, Jowan groaned in frustration. ‘The templars already watch us from afar. Here we are trying to save them all from a nightmare waiting to unleash itself into the realm and they are nit-picking at the basic principles of magic. At least we have Leliana now. Finally we have someone with sense who can weigh in on this debate of how we address Sapientes.’

‘And do you think she is with sense?’ I added quietly, knowing perhaps I should tread lightly where Jowan and Leliana were concerned. The way he had fled to see her told me he cared for her more than he liked to admit.

The mage stirred in annoyance. ‘She’s been through three years of physical and mental torture Ophelia.’ lectured Jowan ‘At the hands of Sapientes, I know that it would have been like nothing any man or woman could have endured. She has returned bloodied but her mind is intact. We owe her the benefit of the doubt here.’

‘That’s true.’ I replied carefully ‘All I’m saying is; do you think your faith in Leliana may be strengthened by the guilt you feel about imprisoning her in the Nephilim Realm? Even just a little?’

The mage appeared disheartened by the observation. ‘Yes of course I feel guilty.’ he muttered ‘We all should. Even you. You’re the reason she was bargained off to Sapientes in the first place.’

‘Hence why I am sitting here in the stables and avoiding the main area of the palace like the plague.’ I muttered ‘Between Leliana and Cassandra, I rather sit here and watch the stable hands shovel hay and manure all day.’

‘Ah.’ frowned Jowan ‘So you’re not just fond of sitting in muck then? Sorry.’. The mage bit his lip, as if considering whether he should say something or not. Jowan turned to pat the mabari before him, still holding the sock proudly in his mouth.

‘What is it?’ I asked suspiciously ‘You’ve got that look? Like you know something you shouldn’t?’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Cullen arrived here at midday. Rode into the palace like a bolt of lightning.’

My brows lifted in surprise. Why would he be here?

‘I suppose he heard about Leliana.’ added Jowan dryly.

‘Well yes, I imagine he would be as keen as you were to see Leliana.’ I replied a little defensively.

Pursing his lips, Jowan stood up from the stairs and proceeded to head back up towards the main building of the palace.

‘I’m not going to say anything more about that.’ he called back nonchalantly ‘Do what you wish with that information, it matters little to me.’

***

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…. tap, tap.

Leliana had awoken from her nap to a sharp knocking on her bedchamber door. Hours prior she had been escorted by Cullen from the Palace District directly to her room, and urged to rest. It was apparent the templar was concerned about her but it didn’t erase her anger towards him. There were some things she could never forgive and his actions in the past had felt like the ultimate betrayal. On top of that the stress of her abduction had begun flooding back to her at the most inopportune moments. Her mind was troubled and she couldn’t focus on anything except fear. Finally she had managed to fall asleep but even her dreams plagued her.

Tap, tap, tap…..

Groggily she opened the door and was surprised to come face to face with a chocolate cake held by a grinning king.

‘Oh?’ remarked Leliana with a confused smile ‘It’s a cake.’

Alistair laughed in amusement, turning to share an inside joke with the several serving staff behind him. ‘Cake she says? Can you believe that?’. Turning to Leliana, he nudged his head to her room. ‘Mind if we come in for one moment?’

Leliana stepped aside, perplexed as Alistair and five servants began placing cakes, slices, biscuits, a jug of coffee and an assortment of sweet rolls on her dressing table. By the time they were done the table was piled high with treats.

‘That there is a custard pie.’ informed Alistair seriously, as if the matter was being discussed in the Landsmeet Chamber. ‘Those are almond crescents and I find go very well with a cup of coffee. The sweet rolls are self-explanatory, as are the honey squares.’. His smiling brown eyes drew to her. ‘But this, this chocolate cake as you call it, is where the fun really begins.’

Alistair extended a hand to an elven woman behind him.

‘Felhni here is the best baker in Ferelden.’ he informed proudly ‘I asked her to make something special for you and this chocolate cake is nothing short of the ambrosia of the gods itself. It’s a called a Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. Eat this and you’ll never look at another kirschtorte the same way ever again’

Leliana was about to reply but all she could do was laugh at the merry diversion as the king smiled back at her in amusement.

‘Alistair…you didn’t have to do all this.’

Alistair waved off the comment as he turned to thank his servants for their help. They curtsied politely and left the room, pleased they were able to share a pleasant moment with the ruler.

‘They admire their king, I can see it in their faces.’ observed Leliana ‘You’re doing a good job here.’

‘Who wouldn’t love a man bringing cakes and coffee to your door!’ grinned Alistair, eagerly pouring a cup for himself. He sat down and extended an eager hand, encouraging Leliana to join him. ‘Do want a slice of Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?’

Leliana grinned in amusement, sitting on a chair beside the king. ‘I’m not that hungry, but I’ll try the chocolate cake.’

‘You get two slices for saying that.’ chastised Alistair brightly. ‘Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. What a mouthful, eh? First time I heard it I thought it was some exotic breed of Mabari being served up for dessert.’

He shoved a large slab of cake on a plate for Leliana and intentionally dolloped a huge pile of cream on it before passing it over. Then Alistair commenced to pour a cup of coffee and added three cubes of sugar before passing it to her with an encouraging nod.

‘Are you trying to fatten me up?’ asked Leliana suspiciously, accepting the cake and coffee with a laugh.

‘Am I that obvious?’ frowned Alistair, picking up another sugar cube and splashing it in her coffee. He grinned in amusement as she shrieked, pulling her cup away from him.

‘Maker help me, no more!’ she laughed.

‘Just one more.’ threatened Alistair with a laugh, holding a sugar cube between his fingers. ‘It’s good for you Leliana. And if you don’t eat that cake right now I’ll put another sugar cube in, just you watch me. I’ll do it. I’m a dangerous man Leliana.’

Rolling her eyes she began to eat the cake, nodding in approval. ‘It’s delicious.’

‘Told you.’ grinned Alistair, munching alongside her with enthusiasm.

‘Show off.’ retorted Leliana.

Alistair rubbed his jaw, growing serious for a moment. ‘I heard what happened today at the Birthstone of Andraste. Leliana, you know you don’t have to see everyone right away? Yes, all of Thedas is dying to see you but you’re in control of when that happens. If Cullen upsets you, or anyone else for that matter, just say the word and I’ll let the knights tell everyone they aren’t getting an audience.’

‘I got a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.’ confessed an embarrassed Leliana ‘Sometimes I get these awful flashbacks and I feel like I’m in the Fade again. Today at Andraste’s Birth Rock I lost myself for a moment. And as for Cullen, well…it’s complicated with Cullen and I.’

‘You have to take care of yourself before others.’ informed Alistair gently.

Leliana grinned at the man. ‘You sound like Cassandra.’

Alistair winced at the comment. ‘Ouch Leliana.’

She laughed. ‘I thought the pair of you got along?’

‘That’s because I’m scared of her!’ declared Alistair ‘Have you seen Cassandra when she’s angry? Oh, of course you have! Well you out of everyone must understand my position?’

Leliana shrugged. ‘Whenever she gets that way, I try to remember her one true weakness.’

Alistair raised a brow. ‘And that is?’

Leliana grinned, taking another bite of her cake. ‘Varric Tethras told me she’s an avid reader of Swords and Shields and is hopelessly in love with the character of Guardsman Donnic. She has a thing for dark haired men with dark eyes.’

The pair laughed gleefully like a pair of mischievous children.

‘Well who doesn’t?’ mused Alistair ‘It’s funny, because I’ve found several copies of that book in my library over the years and I’ve no idea how they got there? Strange.’

Leliana rolled her eyes. ‘Varric’s left his mark.’

Taking a sip of her sugary coffee, Leliana smiled at the king scoffing sweet rolls before her.

‘Thank you for this.’ she remarked quietly ‘Today wasn’t so good for me and somehow it doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming as it did before?’

Humbly Alistair nodded to her as he continued to eat his roll, oblivious to how much the gesture of kindness meant to her.

‘It’s nothing really.’ he replied with a mouthful of bread. With swift hands he carved a piece of custard pie and tossed it on her plate. ‘Less talking, more eating.’ he ordered pleasantly ‘I’m king remember? Now do as I say.’

***

Searching Denerim palace, I was keen to find Cullen that afternoon. After skirting my way through the many parlours and sitting rooms, I managed to find out from several giggling female servants that Knight-Commander Cullen was taking a stroll in the gardens. They appeared to be quite smitten with the templar, eyes glancing through the leaves to where the man sat alone on a stone bench by a large patch of sunflowers. He appeared the poetic warrior, dressed in steel armour and yet reflective at he meditated on his thoughts. The women whispered to each other about the size of his hands and cackled in delight.

As I passed them I grinned, knowing what they suspected was actually true. A loud voice of their superior chastised the servants for wasting time and the women scurried away, returning to their duties in the palace once more.

As I approached Cullen through the bushes he looked up in surprise and stood up to greet me.

‘Why hello there.’ he exclaimed with a wide smile, sweeping me up against the sunflowers and placing an enthusiastic kiss on my mouth.

The templar pulled me to him with a devilish grin and his lips devoured mine, as if thoughts of our previous night still lingered on his mind. After several tantalising kisses he pulled back.

‘Well it’s good to see you too.’ I beamed.

‘You have no idea.’ mused Cullen suggestively. His eyes mischievously looked around the garden. ‘How in the blazes did you know I was here at the palace?’

I grinned at the templar, knowing he wouldn't welcome being spied on by a mage. ‘Jowan spotted you earlier. He said you galloped into the palace like a bolt of lightning. A rather dramatic depiction, but you know that’s Jowan’s speciality.’

Amused at the comment, Cullen sat back down on the stone bench. ‘That mage takes a great interest in everything I do. I should be careful.’

‘He’s like that with everybody.’ I dismissed. Pointing to the templar’s face with a frown, I noticed the deep cut on his cheek. ‘Goodness, what happened there?’

Cullen lifted his hand to the cut, shaking his head as if it was insignificant. ‘Oh this, it’s nothing. A long story I won’t trouble you with right now.’

‘So…?’. I smiled uncertainly as the man looked back to me curiously. ‘How did it go with Leliana?’

Subconsciously, Cullen’s shoulders dropped in reply. ‘She hates me. I didn’t expect anything else to be honest. But there it is. Leliana always made is perfectly clear how she felt about people. Good to know some things have stayed the same.’

‘Well, she’s been through a lot and that’s bound to make someone bitter.’ I replied half-heartedly. Secretly I was disappointed that Cullen cared so much about Leliana's opinion of him after everything that had happened. ‘She’s alive and safe again, that’s all that really matters now?’

The templar shrugged at the comment. Clearly weighed down by his troubles, he refused to let the matter go. ‘I know a bit about what she might have gone through.’ he observed ‘You saw what such an experience did to me. I cannot truly know what Leliana is going through, but I can gather a little of what she must be feeling.’. His hands ran through his sandy hair in frustration. ‘Look I blame myself for what happened to her. There, I said it. For years I’ve carried that heavy burden. Leliana saved my life once and if it were not for her I would not be here now. I owed her a great deal more than what I gave. Some part of me thought that if I rescued her then I would atone for what I did. Yet here she is, back by the hand of the Maker. There is no atonement for my sins now.’

‘I don’t want to remind you of what she did to you to end up in that cave.’ I cautioned darkly ‘Do not think Leliana had no part to blame in all of this.’

Cullen shook his head animatedly, as if he truly believed she was blameless. ‘She did nothing to deserve what happened to her. No one deserves that. I spoke to Leliana just before and she told me some of what happened to her when she was imprisoned. She claims she was graced by the Maker and he aided in her escape. When she spoke to me of the Maker I…’. Cullen cupped his face, as if he struggled to explain it. ‘How can I say this in a way that you’d ever understand? When Leliana spoke of the Maker speaking to her I too heard a voice in my head that said; listen to her for she is my voice and her guidance will save the world of men, elves, dwarves and qunari.’. The templar looked to me seriously. ‘Is it my imagination encouraging me to believe her or something else? What if she has always been telling the truth about her connection with the Maker? And I did not believe her? What disloyal pleb am I? To cast her aside each time my faith was tested. If the Maker speaks through her I will not betray him or her ever again. Her mission is my mission and yet…’. He swallowed deeply, as if the words choked him. ‘…and yet I can’t help her with the one thing that she asks.’

‘She wants you to work with the mages as they perform blood magic in the Fade to defeat Sapientes.’ I muttered.

Cullen clenched his jaw. ‘She does.’

My eyes felt raw as I stared blankly before me. Cullen sounded more committed to Leliana than ever and that left me feeling despondent. Was Leliana telling the truth about the Maker or just lying once more? What benefit was there to be gained from weaving such lies? My head was racing with thoughts about whether she had changed or not. Or whether she and Cullen’s relationship had changed over the years?

As if Cullen could hear my concerns, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

‘Do you doubt my affection for you?’ he asked.

Throwing him a sheepish look, I didn’t know how to answer that. 

‘We’ve been strangers for years, and now Leliana has come back.’ I replied ‘Cullen, I know your faith guides you, as a templar and as a man. I just don’t know how I fit into your life anymore?’

The templar nodded. ‘Do not think Leliana's return has erased my memory of all that she has done. She murdered my unborn child, I don't think I can ever forgive her for that. Your doubts about Leliana are not unwarranted and it’s understandable you would feel this way. Leliana has done nothing to earn your trust in the past. And she and I at one stage were prepared to raise a family together. I know how difficult this must be for you. On top of all that, you are not of the Andrastian faith. It would be hard to see her return and trust her omens on face value. But if the Maker has put his faith in her then we must learn to do the same. You will always have my heart Ophelia, you know that?’

‘A heart locked away from the eyes of your Order.’ I muttered under my breath.

Cullen turned to me curiously. ‘What’s that?’

Rolling my eyes, I laughed sadly. ‘You and I. What a tragic secret we’ve become in the space of a few days? Your position won’t allow this to happen, you said it yourself. Why torture yourself?’

‘Perhaps I like it that way?’ replied Cullen wickedly. He sighed, noticing I was getting glummer by the second. ‘Okay let me ask you this; why do you feel the need to be so out in the open? Can’t we share what we have without the rest of the realm sticking their noses in it? Especially after what you’ve been through as Queen of Ferelden? I would have thought you’d welcome the covert nature of what we share?’

‘When you put it that way it actually does have some appeal to it?’ I mused.

Cullen pointed his finger at me with a grin. ‘Yes, I thought as much. As for the Order’s rules on relationships with mages, well… if I cared for protocol I wouldn’t have wined and dined you the other night. I wouldn’t have dared thought, let alone performed, what I did to you the other night. But I don’t care about rules as much as you would have yourself believe. If there is a way that we can be with each other then I say we take it, and if that means hiding in secret then so be it.’

‘You are a stickler for the rules.’ I muttered ‘You don’t get the title of Knight-Commander unless you stick to the rules.’

Cullen shrugged. ‘Yes and no. I’m a very good templar and always have been.’. His amber eyes looked up wickedly to mine. ‘But…I have a weakness for a certain mage. It’s not ideal but I’d wager it’s not affecting my work.’

‘Nothing stays secret for long.’ I argued ‘Someone will find out and then everyone will know. Your career will be ruined. The templars will hunt me down for tainting one of their own. We’ll end up hating each other.’

The Commander chuckled. ‘So, you’ve become the prophet of doom and gloom these days I see? I’ll have you know I happen to be very good at keeping secrets. All my relationships, aside for you at the Inquisition, were kept tightly under wraps. I actually prefer it that way. Sierra, Leliana, the women I entertained in Kirkwall; they all were in secret relationships with me and none in my rank were ever the wiser. I find it better that way for all parties concerned.’

He had a point. Cullen had made a life long habit of keeping secret relationships. Although I couldn’t figure out whether that fact was reassuring or concerning?

Cullen placed a kiss on my cheek. ‘You worry too much.’ he whispered ‘Can’t you just surrender yourself to me?’ 

Raising a brow at him, he laughed in reply.

‘I can’t stop thinking about the other night.’ I confessed ‘All I want is to be back there now in your cottage in Crestwood.’

‘It’s funny, because I can’t stop thinking about the other morning.’ admitted Cullen devilishly. Pulling me to him, he drew me into another sensual kiss. ‘You need to let me wake you up next time. In fact, I’d do it right here if I could?’

His fingers traced along my collarbone and down to my breasts, teasing the material until my breasts betrayed my arousal. His breathing grew deeper as he placed a deep kiss on my neck.

‘Maker I just want to ravish you.’ whispered Cullen ‘I’d take my knife and cut that dress off you, throw you naked onto the ground and fuck you here in the mud.’

His hands suddenly fell between my legs, teasing my sex through my clothing. Fearing someone would see us, I stepped back only to be pulled closer by a strong templar arm.

'Someone will see us.' I warned 'These gardens have eyes of their own.'

Cullen raised a brow mischievously, continuing to tease with his deft fingers.

‘Dirty girl.’ whispered Cullen ‘Do I need ask? Maker I bet you’re ready for me already?’

‘You’ll have to find out, won’t you?’ I teased.

The Commander laughed in amusement. ‘Oh, is that so!?’

Running my hands to his sandy hair, I relished the soft feeling on my fingers. Stroking his cheek, his rugged jawline bulged as he swallowed. I loved the way it did that.

‘Come to my chambers tonight.’ I urged ‘Please? Pretty please?’

Cullen grinned, pleased at the request. ‘Maker, I like to see you beg. You’ll have to beg harder for me if I come tonight? I might have to punish you for acting so inappropriately in this garden. Letting some templar touch you wherever he wants and you begging to be fucked.’

Biting my lip, I hoped he would.

‘Tonight then?’ I asked hopefully.

‘I must go and speak to Cassandra now.’ informed Cullen wearily ‘There is much to do before nightfall.’. He paused, whispering into my ear. ‘I’ll come later, don’t keep me waiting at the door.’

With a mischievous wink Cullen left the garden, whistling a jovial tune as he made his way through the sunflowers. 


	135. In Darkness We Find Strength

_Gather all who hold a blade,_

_Down a dram and follow,_

_Through the river we shall wade,_

_Pray this victory is not hollow._

Stumbling into _The Gnawed Noble Tavern_ that night, I retreated to a lone table in the darkest corner of the inn. Ordering an ale from a tired looking barmaid, I drank in silence and listened to a bard strum a dulcimer by the fire.

My attention fell miserably to my ale as the melancholy melody encouraged me to fall deeper into my cup. This particular night had turned out worse than I could have anticipated and the atmosphere of the tavern was certainly not rallying my spirits. Several men laughed boisterously at the bar as a bottle smashed against the wall. My attention lifted to an angry bar tender lecturing the group, and a familiar face amongst them ordering a drink.

With a metal goblet of wine in his slender hand, Jowan treaded carefully between the drunken patrons as his dark eyes scoured the tavern with apparent disdain. He edged around several rowdy dwarves sloshing mead over the ground with enthusiastic toasts, and managed to narrowly dodge the misguided throw of a dart that landed hard into the wooden beam beside him. The mage approached in his usual waspish manner, with a wine in one hand and a disapproving sting in his disenchanted demeanour.

Greeting the mage, I pushed out a particular chair with my foot for him to sit on.

‘Here, take this one. The others are covered in ash and possibly urine. Or maybe pickle juice? It’s hard to tell.’. Grinning at Jowan’s apparent disgust, I was well aware from previous years of living in Denerim that the mage loathed this place. ‘Thank you for coming.’

‘Your offer to meet here was too tempting to refuse.’ informed Jowan sarcastically, seating himself precariously. ‘Nice to see the Blackstone Irregular’s have become a part of the furniture in this rats nest. Taoran Hawkwind is at the bar right now mustering up the shadiest plan in all of Ferelden. This place just keeps on getting worse each time I visit.’. The mage hesitated, looking around the room suddenly. ‘Are you alone? Or am I to have the pleasure of a templar’s company this evening? Just when I thought this night could get no better.’

‘No, we can’t be seen out in public.’ I muttered, taking another swig of ale. ‘I’m here alone. Always alone.’

Jowan took a sip of his wine and grimaced in disgust as he swallowed the crimson liquid. ‘What in the nine divines is this?’ he exclaimed bitterly. ‘Oh, I forgot to mention, you do realise this fine establishment still refuses to stock our line of Magi Monk Meads? Varric obviously had a run in with the owner. They choose to sell Chasind Sack Mead. More commonly referred to as barbarian pig swill.’. The mage wiggled his nose in displeasure as he took another sip of his wine.

Noticing my depressed disposition, he placed the goblet on the table and leaned forward.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked quietly.

‘Do you?’ I replied tiredly. ‘No Jowan MacLothlorean that I know would agree to meet in this place unless he was equally upset about all this.’

Sighing at the observation, Jowan took another quiet sip.

‘Fine,’ he conceded ‘it’s too difficult being subjected to all that. Dinner tonight with Alistair was a prime example of how intolerable it has become.’

‘Hear hear.’ I agreed, sloshing my ale against his goblet as I toasted. We drank quietly, both clearly upset at what had occurred.

Several hours earlier Jowan and I had sat down to an intimate dinner in Denerim Palace with King Alistair and his family. Kieran, Valahorn and Caerwyn were present, as was Alistair, Eamon and Teagan. And while it was clearly a family gathering, we also had the pleasure of another guest; Theresa of Gwaren, the Ferelden noble woman that Alistair had been courting for several months.

The dinner had begun pleasantly enough, with polite conversations of the weather and stories of Alistair’s childhood in Redcliff being merrily discussed by Teagan and Eamon. Valahorn made us all laugh as he proudly showed how many peas he could stuff in his mouth. Kieran decided to meet the challenge and beat him with forty-four peas. Meanwhile Caerwyn used this intervention to feed hers to the wandering mabari that had snuck into the dining hall.

Alistair and Theresa sat side by side, and it was rather endearing to see how attentive he was to her. Subtle gestures of affection that I’d never seen Alistair bestow; it left me feeling a little disenchanted about former days when I was actually married to the man. Theresa appeared shy of the room and spoke softly, yet there was a kindness in her manner when she addressed the occasional question cast her way by the exceedingly courteous Arl Eamon. Soon the questions become more targeted and the Arl asked directly to his nephew whether a possible union of marriage may happen. It was clear Alistair was uncomfortable with the question, and the flush in Theresa’s cheeks revealed her embarrassment. However the children were delighted at the topic of weddings being mentioned. Valahorn appeared particularly happy, announcing to Caerwyn merrily that their daddy may soon be married and they would have a new mummy.

At that point Jowan and I lost our appetites for bread and butter pudding and were eager to retire for the evening. I murmured to the mage that I’d be at the Gnawed Noble Inn if he cared to join. It was apparent we both needed to talk.

Swigging back my ale I slammed it hard on the table.

‘We’re being edged out of our children’s lives and I was foolish to think it would never happen.’ I declared bitterly. ‘If Alistair remarries, which let’s face it he will eventually, then this arrangement we have gets harder and harder to manage. One day those children will see Alistair and Theresa as their only parents.’

Jowan nodded, draining his glass in several grimacing large gulps. He shook his head violently, overwhelmed by the stringent liquid burning his throat. ‘Valahorn already calls Alistair daddy. When do you think he and Caerwyn will start calling Theresa mummy? Give it another year and we will be completely out of the picture.’

‘She’s my daughter.’ I declared adamantly.

‘He’s my son.’ countered Jowan.

Throwing him a sad look, I hoped the mage had a plan. ‘What do we do Jowan?’

In my heart I knew there was little we could do. My daughter was a princess and first in line to the Ferelden throne. Even as her parent, I wasn’t permitted to take her with me and on this night of nights it felt painfully unfair. It was clear that Jowan was in the same predicament. Valahorn was a child whose prophecy made him equally as trapped to this palace as my daughter was.

‘Alistair and Theresa both appear to be very good people.’ muttered Jowan, rubbing a hand through his long dark hair messily as the wine began to affect his senses. ‘And Caerwyn and Valahorn live in a palace with the best of everything given to them. That’s what makes all this harder to swallow. We can’t even claim our children would have a better life with us in Skyhold. Let’s face it, they wouldn’t.’

Refusing to believe that, I scoffed at my companion’s low opinion. ‘Money doesn’t equate to happiness. You were raised with nothing and I with everything. We both ended up miserable mages in circle towers.’

‘Which is why we work so hard to ensure the mages of Ferelden have their freedom and a safe place to live.’ agreed Jowan ‘We are paving a brighter future for Caerwyn and Valahorn.’. He placed a sharp finger on the table. ‘No I take it back, our children would be far better off in Skyhold with us. There are many children that live in Skyhold and if it were up to me I would welcome Valahorn and Caerwyn with wide arms. They soon will approach an age when learning magic will be essential for their abilities to develop. Do you think that overbearing man wearing the crown and obsessing over cheese is going to step up and teach them? No. Alistair will ensure that Valahorn and Caerwyn never go near magic until they wind up hopelessly unable to control their arcane gifts and end up setting Ser Perth on fire.’

Chuckling at the thought, I tried to conceal my amusement. There was a disturbing ring of truth to his words.

‘You’d like that though, admit it?’ I teased.

Jowan took another sip of wine with a grin. ‘Of course I would.’

‘Still, we know nothing of Theresa.’ I added suspiciously. ‘Sure she’s all smiles and politeness to our children, but who wouldn’t be in her position? If she plays her cards right, she seeks to become the queen of Ferelden.’

Jowan waved his hand casually at my suspicions. ‘Theresa doesn’t seem an opportunist. The entire time at dinner she spoke of nothing but the beauties of Gwaren and aiding the miner’s and their families during the explosion that occurred last autumn.’. The mage rolled his hand, as if he was already convinced of her character. ‘You know the type. Charitable and full of humility. If they got engaged, I’m sure nothing would change. Our children would not be raised at the hand of cruelty or disadvantage.’. He frowned at me, clearly not comforted by his own observations. ‘Valahorn is still my son and should be at my side. I feel him slipping away from me as each year passes.’

‘My only hope of keeping Caerwyn in my life now is to remarry Alistair.’ I observed sullenly ‘Nugs will fly before that happens.’. Looking miserably at my empty cup, I kicked back my seat. ‘Maker this is depressing. I’m getting us another round.’

After several encounters with drunken patrons slurring words at me about how I looked like someone they knew, I managed to obtain a bottle of Vint-9 Rowan’s Rose and squeezed past the crowded room back to my companion. Jowan was playing with a deck of cards when I returned. He flicked the cards idly onto the table, one by one.

‘I wish we’d never left Skyhold.’ he muttered ‘I wish we’d never agreed to meet up with that pasty white rat in Caer Bronach.’

‘Me too.’ I agreed, pouring wine into our cups. ‘A few weeks ago we were happy. Well, as happy as we could be?’

Jowan nodded, flicking another card down on the pile. ‘A few weeks ago there were no encounters with templars. No paltry requests of aid from the Chantry. No Leliana returning.’

Surprised at his comment, I could see now he was not entirely thrilled she had returned.

‘A few weeks ago there was no talk about storming into the Fade wielding blood magic’. I added darkly.

Jowan pursed his lips at me and I shrugged.

‘There were no templars calling us apostates to our face,’ I continued ‘and openly declaring how threatened they were by our tiny guild. There was….no Cullen.’

A slight curl on his lips, Jowan tilted his head. ‘Do I detect a slight bitterness in your voice?’. He grinned, pushing my cup closer to me. ‘Drink up my friend.’ he teased, knowing the more I drank the looser my tongue would get.

‘What is wrong with me?’ I muttered ‘Knowing full well where is heading I just turn a blind eye and become his….’. I took a sip of wine, recalling what Jowan had said on our way to Denerim. ‘…his bathhouse whore.’

Jowan shrugged with a smirk, picking up his goblet with delight. ‘At least you were listening to me? I thought my words had fell on deaf ears…again.’

‘It’s complicated where he and I are concerned.’ I informed darkly ‘Is it love? Infatuation? Compulsion?’

‘Lunacy?’ whispered Jowan under his breath. He grinned at my dirty look, realising I had heard him quite clearly. ‘What?’ chuckled the mage ‘You said it yourself - he has a hold over you.’

Taking a miserably sip, I knew I couldn’t argue that. ‘Yes, he has a very powerful hold over me. I just want to be with Cullen no matter the consequences. The feeling is overwhelming.’. Shaking my head, I looked to my companion seriously. ‘I cannot think straight around him.’

‘Possession isn’t always a result of magic.’ observed Jowan ‘Some people just have a hold on others. At least you’re becoming aware of the hold Cullen has over you. It’s up to you how you combat that. Awareness is the first step.’

‘It’s not a normal relationship, is it?’ I added darkly. Looking to Jowan, I frowned. ‘Do you think I did the wrong thing? Pushing away the chance of a perfectly normal relationship with the father of my child?’

The mage lifted his brows in surprise.

‘With Alistair? You didn’t love Alistair.’ dismissed Jowan, flicking another card on the pile. ‘You tried to make it work for a while but Alistair never respected you or your arcane abilities, that was clear from the start. After his relationship with Sierra and her practicing blood magic openly for so many years it was evident Alistair developed a skewed opinion of mages. The only justice in all this is he now fathers three children that are all destined to become mages. The irony.’. Dropping the rest of the card onto the table, Jowan frowned. ‘Don’t tell me you feel something for Alistair?’

‘I think I’m still in love with Cullen.’ I confessed suddenly, unwilling to look up from my cup and meet the groan coming from Jowan.

‘I doubt it.’ Jowan muttered ‘Sadistic as it is, you just like the way Cullen treats you. From what you’ve told me of Cullen, the power tug of war between you both has always been the spice of your relationship. I cannot claim to fully understand it but if I had to try I’d say that his control over you is exactly what drew you both together.’. He tried to conceal a smile with his sleeve. ‘You’ll hate me for saying it, but it’s a classic templar versus mage relationship.’

‘Typical.’ I replied cynically, causing Jowan to laugh.

‘I’m sorry.’ chuckled Jowan ‘You did ask?’

The mage poured another glass of wine, and sipped away in silent contemplation as we listened to the bard sing from across the room.

‘I’ve often thought the same.’ I observed quietly ‘That the templar in Cullen enjoyed controlling mages and therefore enjoyed that control in our relationship. And perhaps I, being a circle mage, was drawn to that control?’

‘How intoxicating it must feel to have a someone with that much control over your life show you interest.’ Jowan observed pensively. ‘We were mages locked in a tower, with templars watching us from afar. They were our prison guards. They made sure we slept at a certain time, ate at a certain time and worked at a certain time. Their watchful eyes were always upon us, even when we read tomes in the libraries. We had no choice but to do as they commanded.’. The mage ran his finger around rim of the goblet. ‘To find yourself in a position where a templar was willing to be so intimately close to you as Cullen has been with you – well, it must have felt liberating.’. Laughing to himself, Jowan sipped at his wine. ‘It’s ironic that you hold more power over Cullen than he does you. If you can’t bear to be apart from him I’d at least use that to your advantage.’

Lifting my brows in surprise, I never had thought of it that way. ‘You think I’m in control?’

Jowan shrugged, taking another sip of wine. ‘A templar like Cullen wouldn’t choose to be with a mage. Everything he has been taught would make him consider a mage to be a most loathsome match. And Cullen has a lot more to lose if he chooses to be with you. As Knight-Commander of the Templar Order he runs a great risk in being exposed in a relationship with you. He would be shunned and ridiculed for it. His title would be stripped and his reputation in tatters.’. Jowan’s dark eyes darted to the bard before turning back to me. ‘The question is, do you feel comfortable allowing someone you care so deeply for to risk everything they hold dear?’

‘The Templar Order is his life, as is his faith.’ I muttered. ‘No, I couldn’t take that away from Cullen.’. Shaking my head, I drank from my empty cup. ‘Damn it Jowan, I love him. I still love him after all this time.’

Jowan drew his cold hand onto mine and threw me a sympathetic look. ‘Then you know what you must do?’. He lifted the bottle and poured some wine into my empty pitcher. ‘Tomorrow we will address this pointless meeting scheduled and then set out immediately back to Skyhold. Let’s face it, the longer we stay here the sadder we get. Let us turn our minds back to fighting Sapientes and focus on our concerns at a later date. It’s for the best Ophelia.’

‘Sorry, here I am going on about Cullen and we’ve got bigger problems. You’re right, we need to focus on defeating Sapientes. For Caerwyn and Valahorn’s sake, let us rid ourselves of this demon once and for all. Although, I doubt this meeting tomorrow is worth the trouble?’

‘It will be like trying to convince the world that night is day and day is night.’ observed Jowan cynically. ‘Leliana has all but made me pinkie promise I attend and state our case on behalf of The Mage Order of Southern Thedas. As if it will make one jot of difference? The Chantry will never allow us to practice the maleficarum arts. Even if that refusal results in the death of all who venture into the Fade.’

‘Leliana is the Divine.’ I argued ‘She’s bound to have some say over what is to be done.’

Jowan raised an unconvinced brow. ‘Cassandra, Cullen and Alistair have all made it known publicly that they do not support the mages of Ferelden. Do you think us promoting the use of the maleficarum arts is going to soften their prejudice?’

Waving my hand at the comment, I knew it hardly mattered. ‘We don’t need their permission, we’ll do it anyway. This meeting is a waste of time.’

‘Exactly.’ agreed Jowan.

‘Although it may be another reason to keep a distance from Cullen?’ I added dismally. ‘If he knows I am practicing blood magic, whatever relationship we have now will be over anyway.’

Jowan squeezed my hand. ‘His place is in Caer Bronach. Yours is in Skyhold. Let it stay that way.’

****

It was past midnight when I returned to my chambers, fumbling for the door handle in the dark hallway of Denerim palace. Breathing in deeply, I managed to open the door without the groan on the hinges making a noise. I scrunched my nose in displeasure as I entered the room. There was a stuffy smell in the palace that always took me back to former days living there. A musty odour of red wood, dusty wool and wet mabari.

My eyes lifted in surprise as I spotted a candle burning on my table and Cullen sitting beside it in a chair reading a book. He looked up in surprise, as if I had disturbed his solitude.

‘Well you certainly know how to keep a man waiting.’ mused Cullen, snapping the book shut. Pulling a gold pocket watch from his tunic, he playfully looked unimpressed. ‘Tut tut tut, an hour past midnight. While the cat’s away eh?’

‘Oh no, I left you a note about tonight.’ I frowned. ‘Didn’t the messenger deliver it to you?’

Casually the templar pulled the note from his pocket, a curl of amusement on his lip as he began to read it.

_Cullen,_

_I’m terribly sorry but I can’t meet with you tonight. Dinner this evening has left me in dreadful disposition. Nothing serious, I just need some time alone._

_Yours,_

_O_

Folding the note crisply, Cullen ran his finger sharp along the edge of the parchment.

‘So, what was it? Food poisoning or the company?’ inquired Cullen with a smirk.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked curiously, sitting at the table.

‘Which one caused your dreadful disposition?’ asked Cullen. ‘Cassandra mentioned Alistair was hosting a soiree tonight and I assumed you would have the pleasure of attending.’

Cursing under my breath as I recalled the dinner, I threw him a defeated look. ‘You wouldn’t understand. It’s hard for Jowan and I to watch our children slip away from us. The hint of marriage between Alistair and Theresa was mentioned tonight at dinner. Caerwyn and Valahorn were extremely excited that one day they’ll have a new mummy. It really….’. I frowned, dismal at the memory of Caerwyn’s delight that Theresa would one day be married to Alistair. ‘It really hurts, that is all.’

Drawing a hand to his sandy stubble, Cullen rubbed his chin as he looked at me sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry Ophelia.’

Placing a hand on his strong arm, I threw him an apologetic look. ‘No, I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ mused Cullen.

‘Tonight I’ve had a lot of time to think. To make decisions. At the end of the day I must do what is right for Caerwyn and her safety.’ I explained ‘I must do what ensures your safety also. I want Sapientes dead and there is only one way to accomplish that. Tomorrow I will be standing with Jowan and urging the members of the meeting to allow us to train the mages in the maleficarum arts.’

‘Blood magic.’ groaned Cullen, shaking his head at me. ‘Why?’

‘You know why.’ I refuted. ‘For more reasons than one, I must.’

Rubbing his shoulder, the templar appeared tense as he attempted to discern the rationale behind such a decision. ‘You know I can’t accept this. You learning to be a blood mage. Practicing blood magic. It goes against my principles and beliefs.’

Arguing was futile, but I had to try and make him see reason. ‘It’s for the best, despite what you may think. Sapientes will be destroyed.’

Cullen was clearly not convinced. ‘You think being allowed to train your mages in this magic will be a success but you’ll come to dearly regret it. Your mages already have the freedom you long desired. While Orlais and Nevarra retained their Circles of Magi, you here in Ferelden enjoyed the freedom your brothers and sisters from other kingdoms never obtained. If you train your mages to become maleficars this will all change.’

His voice was ominous and sent shivers down my spine.

‘Has Cassandra said something about reinstating the circles?’ I asked quietly.

Cullen appeared worried. ‘She didn’t have to, it’s the only natural path we can go down if you pursue this ludicrous plan. Thanks to you and Jowan, I personally will be forced to manage the reinstatement of the circles in Ferelden.’. His muscular neck bulged as he swallowed hard, as if the thought concerned him. ‘I don’t wish to do that, but I’ve orders higher up the chain of command than myself you do realise? Knight-Vigilante Robard is archaic in his beliefs. He relishes the days of rigid mage imprisonment. The templars cannot rightly keep a distant watchful eye on Ferelden mages if they openly practice blood magic. Knight-Vigilante Robard will use this information as irrefutable evidence that the Templar Order must reinstate the circle towers in Ferelden and the Free Marches. We cannot ignore the fact that Jowan has openly confessed that he is willing to teach your mages in the maleficarum arts.’. Cullen’s amber eyes drew me in sadly. ‘I’m sorry Ophelia, this changes everything and I fear you haven’t thought it entirely through?’

‘My freedom means nothing if Caerwyn comes to harm by Sapientes.’ I replied miserably. ‘As selfish as that is, I cannot sit back and do nothing in this situation. Not when it will result in the death of all your templars and the victory of Sapientes.’

‘Of course I understand your child comes first.’ acknowledged Cullen ‘I’m not blind to your motivations here’. The templar drew my hands into his affectionately. ‘Trust me when I say I don’t want to see you forced back into the circle towers’. His amber eyes bore into me with an expression of pain. ‘Maker help me, I don’t want you training to become a maleficar. I couldn’t bear to lose you to that.’

Refusing to let his hands go, I kissed them lovingly. ‘‘You won’t lose me to that, I’m not driven by power. The risk of being consumed by this type of magic only happens to those who crave it. And you know me. Give me any type of power and I’m keen to toss it aside.’

‘I’ve seen this type of magic corrupt the desperate, not just the power driven.’ informed Cullen solemnly ‘There were many a blood mage in Kirkwall eager to escape the Gallows. They resorted to this forbidden magic and could not control it. I’ve witnessed maleficarum lose their minds, and blood mages turn into abominations. I’ve seen the worst of what can happen when you tempt fate with this kind of magic.’

‘Cullen, I know how much this affects you.’ I observed miserably ‘Not in a million years would I ask you to accept this. Naturally you won’t want anything to do with me now. You shouldn’t be made to risk everything you stand for to be associated with a maleficar. Yet I still care so much for you.’

My eyes dropped to the ground, unable to look at him in the silence. He refused to reply and it could mean nothing but agreement to my sentiments. What more could he want with me now that I proposed to be the one thing he loathed the most?

_‘I trust you_.’ murmured Cullen.

Stern but sincere in his conjecture, he looked at me as if he meant every word. The templar wrapped his hands around mine tightly, squeezing them gently.

‘I don’t like this. Not one bit. But I trust you.’ reaffirmed Cullen. ‘Mind you, I don’t trust Jowan. But I trust you.’. The templar sighed, his eyes looking tired by the flicker of soft candle light. ‘That is all I can hold on to if we are to move forward from here.’

‘Chances are Cassandra will refuse this proposal.’ I added quietly ‘And this is something Jowan and I will pursue alone. Better that you know my intentions now rather than I deceive you. At the end of the day I will be there at your side in the Fade and I will make sure you are not struck down. That is my decision.’

As if the words touched him on a personal note, his expression melted from sternness to passion as the templar leant forward and placed a kiss on my lips. Cullen’s impulsive mouth fell hungrily onto mine and kissed me with unreserved desire.

‘I would die a thousand deaths for you Ophelia.’ Cullen swore ‘You know that? Never would I ask you to do the same for me.’

My lips ran along his, craving the soft and sensual pucker of his mouth. ‘In Thedas you are a strong soldier but in the Fade you are not. Jowan showed you what your templar skills can do against him. I won’t stand by and let you die. If you died…’

The words caught in my throat and I wasn’t able to say what I felt. Clutching his face in my hands, my lips tremored as I met his watchful gaze.

Cullen placed a finger on my lip and smiled at me.

‘Shhhh, don’t talk like that.’ he replied in a low voice ‘I’m here with you.’

My eyes darted to the warm and welcoming four poster bed beside us and Cullen grinned as he caught my line of sight.

‘You must be tired?’ he observed ‘As sinister as it may appear, I only came here to make sure you were alright. Not to follow up on promises. I should go.’. His lips fell to my neck, kissing deeply at my nape. ‘Unless you’d have me stay a while?’ he added softly.

‘Yes.’ I whispered, dying a little in elation at the sensation of his lips on my bare flesh. ‘Stay the night with me.’

Lacing my fingers through his, I led Cullen to my bed. The templar swept me in his strong arms as we fell back onto the fur blanket, entwined in an embrace. The warmth of his hands drew to the base of my back as Cullen crawled on top of me. He ran his hands softly through my hair, gently scrunching bundles of brown waves in his fist as he planted another deep kiss on my mouth.

The intimacy of the present moment felt so different from other times. An affectionate closeness drew us to each other and urged us to worship each other.

The templar lowered his lips and gently kissed mine, cradling my face as he melted into my mouth.

‘I want to be with you.’ whispered Cullen ‘Here and now. For an eternity. I don’t ever want to feel like I’ve lost you again. Even if it pains my very soul to see you doing this.’

‘I’m not like those other mages you grew to hate.’ I swore before him. ‘Once this is over you will never see me practice these arts again. All I want is to be with you. If it means hiding away from the world so we can, then so be it.’

With gentle hands he eased off my dress, and swiftly removed his tunic and pants. His figure glistened in the soft light, with glowing warm skin and hardness. Falling back onto the bed in our raw state, we become tangled in each other as Cullen kissed my ribcage and breasts softly. The candlelight outlined his muscular body and his sandy hair radiated like burnt sheafs of wheat at dusk. His tight abdomen contracted as his body edged down the bed. Cullen’s lips fell lower to my waist, and his hot breath teased me as he fell between my legs.

A wave of heat swept from my face downward, turning my cheeks and chest a brilliant pink as I saw Cullen hovering above my sex, watching me with raw lust. The intimate flesh he'd exposed swelled and coloured more deeply as blood pulsed painfully through the tissues. Tenderly he pushed his warm palms against my thighs, easing them apart as lowered his mouth to my core. Delicately he pried open my velvety lips and his tongue licked passionately along the inside, as if tasting ripe petals of a rose itself, and teased my clitoral hood to gently coax it to bloom. His fingers circled as he lapped, caressed and sucked, devouring the excitement that glistened before him. A large finger delved into my quim, encouraging the wetness that he smeared eagerly across my sex. The Commander’s tongue rang along my clit and he bit his lip playfully as my bud engorged in response and my back arched in pleasure.

The muscles of Cullen’s arms and chest moved sensually beneath his skin as he supported his weight above me. My fingers gently dragged into his flesh, enjoying the pressure of his tight body.

  
A small hiss slipped from between Cullen’s teeth as my palms swept their heat across his chest, exploring his muscles. My fingers brushed his nipples, tracing the top of his firm pectorals, and circled down to curve around the wide wings of his broad back. His faded white scars from blades in battle adorned his body like badges of honour. As he arched over my body I traced my fingers along the many lines, teasing his skin.

Tiny sparks darted through nerve endings already erect, and Cullen drew deep breaths in his chest. His hand fell to his throbbing club as he kissed my lips. The templar moved before instinct stole his will, tearing his amber eyes from me to watch the head of his cock as it sunk into my slit. Subconsciously he bit his lip again and a shuddering moan escaped as he felt my sex welcome the smooth head of his cock.

  
Crying out my fingers dented his firm, bronzed flesh as they clenched in anticipation. I knew what was coming but this time it felt so incredible intimate as Cullen eased his cock to part the swollen lips of my pussy and allowed it to rest in the swollen cleft. My body opened for him and slowly he entered, his body sinking heavily into mine.

Gasping as he entered, I too moaned as if in agony. His amber eyes looked fearfully to mine, only to see the expression of pleasure on my face. Stretching the depths of my cunt the templar eventually bottomed out, sheathed to the hilt. Throbbing around his hardness, I cried out into every slow stroke he commenced. Cullen’s neck stretched back and the bulge in his muscular throat was prominent as he groaned into each thrust. His fingers pressed urgently into the flesh of my thighs, pulling me to him as he filled me deeper on every thrust. My breathless pants grew and desperately my fingers reached out to his neck. The passion was so intense I needed his mouth. As if Cullen knew exactly what I craved his body bent over mine as he fell to his elbows and kissed me deeply.

My legs responded to the maddening urge and I wrapped them around Cullen’s back, encouraging him to take me deeper. Cullen pushed back in playful resistance, but only to allow his entire length to almost withdraw entirely and then thrust back until he had reached the deepest part once more. My breathing stopped each time he hit me deep, and Cullen in turned breathlessly laughed as he continued his pleasurable rhythm. Locks of sandy hair fell on his brow as his head lent forward and his eyes closed in pleasure, lost in a moment of sheer bliss.

Whimpering in pleasure, I arched my back and pushed my hips against him. The desire to reach the heights of no return was too strong.

‘Yes, come for me.’ he whispered, desire drenched in his voice as he edged me to a crescendo. 

The bend in my back stretched gloriously as I extended my neck, releasing the pulse that overtook my body. Cullen’s rough fingers trailed down my cheek, neck and torso as I cried out, and I clenched around his cock in a series of bursts of pleasure. The templar’s head fell, fighting the urge to come. His cock was being tortured but he refused to succumb, continuing to thrust firm and long strokes deep even as I fell limp. Depleted from such pleasure, I became his doll to fuck as he pleased. Nothing could bring me down from this euphoria, but little did I know the templar could bring me higher. Accelerating his pace, he stroked harder. Building me up again, the pleasure was sending my nerves on fire. Cullen’s short breaths timed with sharp thrusts, plunging deeply as he bottomed out again and again until I cried out in ecstasy and he loudly moaned as his cock released it’s liquid gift.

Our eyes met each other, and I held his head desperately in my hands.

‘I love you so much.’ I confessed.

‘So do I.’ replied Cullen, drawing his mouth to mine. ‘I love you so very very much.’ he murmured before placing another kiss on my mouth.

The Commander continued his kiss so tenderly that tears formed in my eyes. It was the closest I’d ever felt to this man and I never wanted to let that feeling go.


	136. Blood Spilled

It was early morning in Denerim as the oak doors to the Landsmeet Chamber were swung open. Cassandra and Leliana sat as representatives of the Chantry, and Knight-Commander Cullen attended on behalf of Knight-Vigilant Robard and representative of the Templar Order. King Alistair came to the chamber to speak on behalf of Ferelden, while Jowan and I spoke on behalf of The Mage Order of Southern Thedas.

As Jowan and I entered the Landsmeet Chamber, we were greeted by Alistair and Eamon standing by the window, deep in conversation. Teagan was chatting to one of his men while Leliana, Cullen and Cassandra sat at the large table in the centre of the room. Leliana looked pale as a ghost, while Cassandra carried her usual stony-faced disposition. Cullen read over several documents before him, too deep in study to realise we had even entered the room.

The Seeker’s brown eyes glared at Jowan and I as we entered.

‘At last you have arrived.’ Cassandra announced loudly.

‘Cassandra, it is a delight to see you once more.’ remarked Jowan with a not-so-subtle tone of mockery thrown in.

‘It’s been several years.’ I added flatly, meeting her cold glare. ‘Time flies.’

Cassandra crossed her arms, refusing to exchange pleasantries. ‘Apostates teaching magic to impressionable mages in Skyhold with a clear lack of templar supervision? This is what you chose to pursue after the Inquisition?’

Exchanging amused looks, Jowan and I didn’t know how to answer the apt observation.

Jowan ran his eyes up and down the heavily robed Divine. ‘You’ve come in full ceremonial garb today? That’s rather formal. Leliana always said those robes were awfully sanctimonious. Much like the role of Divine, wouldn't you say?’

‘Shall we begin?’ announced Cassandra sternly, determined to ignore us. ‘I have no desire to waste any more time on this matter. A decision on how we proceed with Sapientes has to be made before we leave this room. The hour is upon us to make this decision.’

‘Not everyone has arrived yet?’ pointed out Cullen, standing up as he noticed Jowan and I approach the table. Politely he nodded to us. ‘Jowan. Ophelia. It is good to see you both again.’

‘A pleasure as always.’ replied Jowan dryly.

‘Good morning Cullen.’ I nodded.

The Commander flashed a subtle wink to me before he turned back to his documents.

As if snapping out of a trance, Leliana turned sharply to look at Jowan and I. Her green eyes drew coldly to mine, and I found myself turning away swiftly. It was the first time I’d seen the woman up close since she had returned and I was mortified to see how injured Leliana was. Her waif like appearance and scarred face filled me with fright, wondering what Leliana must have endured?

Leliana turned to greet Jowan, ignoring me at the table. The silence was more than welcome. Jowan drew a seat by Leliana’s side, and I in turn sat beside him.

‘We cannot wait all morning.’ called out Alistair ‘Most of us are here already. Perhaps we should just start?’

‘Agreed.’ replied Cassandra.

She waited patiently as everyone took their seats at the round table.

Cassandra cleared her throat with a loud cough. ‘First of all, I must inform you of a letter received late last night on behalf of The Council of Clerics. The Grand Consensus was held among the Grand Clerics in Val Royeaux and the result was that I, Divine Elizabeth, is to remain at the head of the Chantry. Leliana has been stripped of her role.’

Leliana appeared devastated but seemed all too aware of the decision. Her eyes dropped to the table before her as various faces at the table stared at her in shock.

‘Is this certain?’ asked Alistair in surprise, as if surely there had to be some mistake.

He looked over to Leliana with concern, perhaps unwilling to make a bigger deal of the matter. It was apparent Leliana was upset.

‘It can’t be?’ exclaimed Jowan, turning to Leliana. ‘Can it?’

‘What of Leliana’s role as Divine?’ inquired Cullen, concealing his surprise better than the others in the room. ‘Cassandra I would not challenge your title as Divine, you’ve done the role more justice than we could have ever hoped for. I’m just confused as to how the Council would not be willing to consider Leliana in a joint role? She was the Divine before your appointment. Surely that makes her a just claimant of the title?’

‘Leliana is the Divine.’ interjected Jowan. ‘Nothing changed just because she was taken by Sapientes for several years. Her title remains steadfast under Chantry law. After everything she has been through surely everyone here realises that Leliana is the rightful Divine?’. The mage looked around the room to a group of awkward glares and diverted glances. ‘Don’t tell me you’re all too scared to admit how utterly unjust this is? The decent thing for Casandra to do right now is step down from her role and allow Leliana to recommence her rightful duty as Divine.’

An uncomfortable blanket of silence settled upon the room.

Knowing Jowan needed support, I decided to come to his support.

‘He has a point.’ I spoke up ‘Why oust your most powerful figurehead? Is this a political move?’

‘The Chantry does not need to justify it’s decision to you, Mistress Trevelyan.’ replied Cassandra shortly. She drew a deathly cold glare to Jowan. ‘Or you.’

Leliana shook her head. ‘There’s no point fighting this. The decision of the Council of Clerics is the only one that matters. They have made their choice and I must accept it.’

‘You should challenge it.’ urged Jowan.

Cassandra shifted irritably at the comment. ‘The decision is final. I speak as Divine on behalf of the Chantry and Leliana does not. As for now she holds no official position in the Chantry and as such holds no weight in the decision-making process of today’s meeting.’

‘You’ve made that apparent enough, Cassandra.’ observed Leliana coldly ‘We’re all perfectly clear that you are now in charge.’

‘Then let us begin.’ replied Cassandra sternly. ‘To the matter of Sapientes, it is of the belief of the Chantry that we should continue our mission to hunt down Sapientes in the Fade. Despite the miraculous return of Leliana, we are aware that Sapientes remains a threat that cannot be ignored. We shall continue to pursue him in the Fa-‘

The large wooden doors of the Landsmeet Chamber groaned under their weight as they slowly opened, allowing a latecomer to enter into the meeting.

Curiously I looked up to see who the final member of the meeting was and my blood grew cold.

Why in the blazes was he of all people joining in on this meeting?

Michel de Chevin briskly entered the room with a sweeping bow, greeting the group before him. His armour shone brilliantly even in the darkness of the chamber; a bright white plate mail adorned his body and a blue lion’s head was etched on his plackart. The lion on Michel’s chest brought attention to his role - a chevalier of Orlais. Large white plate pauldrons covered his shoulders and riveted upwards like two shields adorning his upper arms. He wore a distinguished decorated blue doublet under his plate armour, the ornate garment revealing an elegant high neck that the Orlesians were particularly fond of wearing. The chevalier’s blonde hair had grown much longer over the years, and was tied back in a low ponytail that fell down his back.

‘My deepest apologies on the lateness of my arrival.’ informed Michel sincerely, his blue eyes moving across the sea of faces staring back at him in the room. In polite protocol, the chevalier singled out Alistair sitting at the table and approached. Placing a hand on his heart, Michel bowed respectfully before the Ferelden king.

‘King Alistair, is an honour to be in your kingdom once more.’ professed Michel ardently. ‘It has been many years and I hope you and your family are in good health.’

Alistair stood and extended a formal hand, shaking the chevalier’s. He appeared pleasantly neutral towards the chevalier, despite their tumultuous history.

‘Thank you, Michel, we are all very well indeed. Ferelden welcomes you.’ acknowledged Alistair politely. ‘And we thank Emperor Gaspard for lending us one of his very own honour guards in a matter that concerns me on such a personal level.’

Michel placed a warm hand on Alistair’s arm and smiled graciously. ‘Orlais is always your amicable neighbour, your Majesty. Emperor Gaspard desires only peace and friendship and is happy to aid Ferelden and the Chantry in this dire situation.’

‘Yet he sends you and not an army to contend with this demon.’ muttered Teagan under his breath. ‘Clearly Gaspard isn’t interested in peace?’

A scoff from behind Alistair sounded. Arl Eamon crossed his arms from afar and scowled at the chevalier. Alistair threw a subtle look of warning to both his uncles, who apparently had not let go of their anger towards the chevalier from previous days. Both Teagan and Eamon glowered at the chevalier and remained tight lipped, refusing to offer any courtesy to the Orlesian.

If Michel felt offended by the icy reception he did not let it subdue the warm smile on his face as he turned away from Alistair.

Moving to Cassandra, Michel knelt before the woman and lowered his blond head. ‘Most Holy Divine Elizabeth, it is an honour to be of service to you and the Chantry. On behalf of Emperor Gaspard, he extends his warmest wishes to you and his dearest hopes on the success of your mission. Orlais is at your service.’

Cassandra smiled fondly at the chevalier, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. ‘Thank you, Ser Michel. The Chantry greatly appreciates your aid in this current situation. Rise and please sit with us.’

If hearts could beat so hard as to shake one’s skull, I believed mine was doing so now. It had been years since I had laid eyes on the chevalier and where Michel was concerned I was sorely conflicted. Smiling pleasantly to mirror the general reception in the room, I waited uncomfortably as Michel turned to greet Leliana.

With true chivalry, the chevalier placed a heart-felt hand on his armoured breast as he faced the Spymaster.

‘When I heard that you had returned I thanked the Maker for his mercy.’ confessed the chevalier in a gentle tone. ‘Your presence before me fills my heart with joy.’

Perhaps in days gone by Leliana would have received such compliments from the chevalier with a snide remark, however today she appeared different. Leliana stood up and shook the chevalier’s hand as she would a dear friend.

‘Thank you, Ser Michel.’ she replied.

Michel smiled at Leliana before turning to Cullen who stood beside her. With a respectful nod, Michel outstretched his hand. Cullen grasped it firmly, and the men exchanged a silent gesture of respect.

‘Knight-Commander Cullen, it is an honour to be in your service once more.’ informed Michel soundly.

Cullen patted the chevalier’s forearm, nodding in appreciation. ‘On behalf of the Templar Order, we thank you for your aid in this matter. I do not think this mission ever stood a chance were it not for your invaluable knowledge on the Eluvians.’

Michel nodded seriously. ‘If my knowledge of the Eluvians can aid in Sapientes defeat then I am your humble servant.’

The chevalier did not hesitate in his civility and with a pleasant smile turned to acknowledge Jowan and I. For a split moment Michel and I caught each other’s eye, and the moment it occurred I felt an immense negative charge of energy exchanged. So subtle, no one sensed it aside from myself. A flash of pure anger in his blue eyes met mine. While the chevalier was perfectly amicable to everyone in that room, that split second he laid eyes on me I felt his true feelings pour out.

It was hateful. 

‘And to the mages of Skyhold, I offer a warm welcome.’ greeted Michel pleasantly, lifting his hands to gesture to us both before him. ‘There has been much talk of the great accomplishments of your collective even as far as Orlais.’

His blue eyes darted politely between Jowan and I but before we could reply the chevalier turned away and approached the table from the opposite side to sit furthest from us. Unfortunately this ensured we were facing him on the opposite side of the circle. My eyes fell to the cup of water before me, while Jowan averted his eyes from the cold glare of Cassandra.

Jowan exchanged a fake smile with me, raising a brow as if he knew exactly what I was thinking at that moment.

This situation could not have been more uncomfortable.

As Alistair and his men joined us at the table, we managed to fill every seat. The king sat beside me, while Teagan and Eamon sat further alongside him. Jowan was to my right, and further on sat Leliana and Cullen. Everyone was ready to commence, and silence settled in the Landsmeet Chamber.

Leliana rose hastily before Cassandra could recommence the meeting. The Spymaster drew her green eyes seriously to the men and women at the table.

‘You all know why I am here.’ Leliana began ‘I don’t come before you to evoke pity, despite the look on all your faces. I know the terror I have lived. That is not something I will ever escape. But if I can ensure that terror is not experienced by another living soul in Thedas then I will fight until my dying breath to ensure that never happens.’. Leliana rested her bony hands on the table. ‘Sapientes is a form of pure evil and he intends to taint our world and claim it as his own. Already he prevents the Maker from returning to his Golden Throne. This demon does not only include Valahorn in his plans of domination. He threatens to destroy every living creature in Thedas unless they bend their knee to his reign. Imagine living in a world controlled by a demon like that.’.

Rolling her sleeve up, Leliana exposed a horrific deep scar running down the entire length of her arm. The knotted white flesh appeared wrinkled and painful, as if someone had cut deep in one cruel drawn out cut and repeated the process many times over.

‘This is one of the many scars on my body, each one carved into my flesh effortlessly by the use of blood magic.’ informed Leliana shakily. ‘There are things I will never speak of. Things done to me by the use of his powers, and those around him. Their magic is powerful and the mages of Thedas under Chantry rule do not wield that power.’

‘Your magic is no match for Sapientes.’ affirmed Jowan, looking to Cassandra and Cullen. ‘I believe the Knight-Commander can vouch for that after my demonstration in Caer Bronach the other day.’

Cullen glared at the mage, still annoyed by the assault on his templar.

‘We’re calling it a demonstration now, are we?’ scoffed Cullen ‘Not a direct assault on my Knight-Captain?’

‘What demonstration?’ asked Cassandra with a frown.

‘Jowan cast his magic and I attempted to quash it using several templar spells.’ informed Cullen flatly. ‘Each one was rendered useless by whatever magic he used to counter them. Although to be perfectly honest, Jowan appeared to deflect and perform these arcane abilities with thought alone. Curious, isn’t it?’

‘How is that possible?’ demanded Cassandra, her eyes darting to the mage. ‘What type of magic can perform spells with thought alone?’

‘With the arts of the maleficarum it is perfectly possible.’ advised Jowan. ‘The Maleficarum actively pursue dangerous and forbidden schools of magic, including blood magic but not solely restricted to that particular school. If you want to go into the Fade and face powerful demons you need to be able to perform magic fast and you need access to a wide array of darker schools of magic. You need to be able to perform strong spells. Incredible strong spells that cause extensive destruction.’

The Seeker threw Jowan a furious glare. ‘You speak plainly about using such a vile form of magic as if it were permissible?’ she hissed ‘Before the representatives of the Chantry and Templar Order you crow of your use of forbidden magic?’

Jowan returned the furious glare of the Seeker. ‘I don’t come here asking your permission to be a maleficarum. I come here to help you defeat this demon. Something you cannot do on your own.’

‘He speaks the truth Cassandra.’ interjected Leliana ‘You need to understand that your templars cannot fight Sapientes. Your Orlesian circle mages cannot either. They will all die unless you use this magic.’

‘Blood magic.’ muttered Cullen, shaking his head. ‘Always appears to be a good option for the mages until it goes terribly wrong for everyone involved. Maker when will any of you learn?’

Cassandra looked to the Knight-Commander and nodded assertively. ‘At least there are some with common sense in this room.’

‘I too disagree with this approach.’ informed Alistair, throwing a concerned look towards Jowan and I. ‘Having seen the fall of the Ferelden Circle at the hands of a few blood mages. Having witnessed the sheer massacre of both templars and mages in that tower. Having witnessed my Grey Wardens manipulated by Livius Erimond and his blood magic.’. The king sighed, shaking his head sadly. ‘Having witnessed my first wife, Sierra Amell, lose herself completely to this dark art. The practice of this terrible magic is something we must prevent from ever happening again, no matter the cost.’

‘The cost will be the death of all the Templar Order and Circle Mages you send into the Fade.’ I interjected. Looking to Alistair, I shook my head. ‘The cost will be greater still. Our daughter’s future is threatened by this demon. Is that a cost you’re willing to pay?’

Alistair looked at me seriously. ‘You’re right, it isn’t.’

‘Your kingdom running rife with blood magic.’ interrupted Cassandra ‘Is that something you’re willing to entertain in future days? Your Majesty have care, I beg you. Your emotions may cloud your judgement. Blood magic should never be encouraged for any reason.’

‘It always results in the death and suffering of many innocents.’ agreed Cullen ‘As you said Your Majesty, the Kinloch Hold was a prime example of the destructive qualities of blood magic.’

Jowan groaned, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. ‘I completely understand the reservations you all hold on this subject. Having lived in the Kinloch Hold, I too lost many friends at the hands of those mages.’

Cullen threw an impatient hand at the mage. ‘You were taught blood magic by Uldred himself. How can you possibly show sympathy in that situation when you too would have destroyed everyone in that tower were it not for a well-timed escape?’

‘I’ve never been possessed by a demon.’ informed Jowan sternly ‘And with my knowledge learned from Sapientes I can safely safe I never will. That is the reason why my skills are invaluable to your cause. Your templars need to learn how to fully protect themselves from the magic you so desperately fear.’

‘Sometimes you must fight dirty to win.’ added Leliana determinedly ‘At the risk of the lives of hundreds of thousands of innocents we must make the right decision in this room today. A decision that may not resonate with your morals or beliefs. As the old saying goes; exitus acta probat.’

‘The outcome justifies the deeds.’ nodded Jowan, running his dark eyes across the room. ‘Leliana speaks from experience, as do I. I implore you to listen for we have no other agenda aside from saving Thedas from this evil.’

‘Even if the outcome means Ferelden runs rife with maleficars?’ frowned Alistair. ‘Sure, you may defeat Sapientes. But what of the aftermath? Every mage equipped with that sort of power is a recipe for disaster. My people will be slaughtered like sheep running through a wolf pack.’

‘Many mages in the Tevinter Imperium practice the maleficar arts.’ pointed out Jowan.

‘It’s officially banned in the Imperium.’ informed Cassandra sternly.

Jowan shrugged. ‘Yet it’s widely practiced nevertheless. Everyone knows you don’t become a Magister without practicing it. And look at the place? It is an old and powerful nation that flourishes under the rule of the Magisters. People are not being slaughtered by these Maleficarum.’

Alistair raised an unconvinced brow, turning to Teagan as they laughed at the observation.

‘Are you trying to convince the King of Ferelden of the benefits that sort of magic has brought the Tevinter Imperium?’ mused Arl Teagan.

Alistair winced. ‘Maker help us if that’s the case.’

Arl Eamon nodded, supporting the opinion of his nephew and brother. ‘Tevinter is ruled by a powerful magocracy. That’s the first problem right there.’

‘Mages ruling Ferelden…hmmm, let me think about that?’ mused Alistair ‘Nope, I’m good.’

Teagan chuckled. ‘Jowan, it is unwise to push such ideologies before the king himself. The leaders of the Imperium are all mages. The Imperial Archon is a mage. You teaching mages with such strong magic threatens Ferelden rule and that is something we cannot permit.’

Jowan shook his head determinedly. ‘No Arl Teagan, that is not what I’m trying to say. Only that blood magic is a common practice in the Tevinter Imperium and on the whole nothing foul has occurred.’

‘Have you met someone from the Tevinter Imperium?’ replied Cullen cynically ‘Ambitious and power-hungry fools the lot of them.’

‘And slavers of elves, men and qunari.’ added Michel de Chevin seriously. ‘It’s a legal practice there, even in this day and age.’

‘That’s not a result of blood magic though?’ quipped Leliana.

‘They go hand in hand.’ pointed out Cassandra ‘With great power comes great responsibility. And great abuse. The Tevinter Imperium has shown us how they have failed humanity in that respect.’

‘But we are not arguing the benefits of blood magic being integrated into a society.’ I pointed out. ‘No one is suggesting we allow blood magic to be practiced across Ferelden. That would be lunacy. We only seek to use it to fight Sapientes and then never use it ever again.’

‘How can you possibly promise that?’ laughed Cassandra ‘Once you have taught a group of mages these dark arts there is no turning back. There is no assurance they won’t abuse their new found powers. A mage who is not a maleficar already serves as a great threat to the community.’

Jowan sighed, clearly weary of the discussion. ‘Tell me Cassandra, how much of a threat have my mages posed over the last few years?’

‘You forget there has been many examples of a destructive mage influence before then.’ retorted Cassandra.

‘Such as Kirkwall.’ reminded Cullen darkly.

‘Please don’t turn this into a templar versus mage debate.’ I muttered.

The Commander narrowed his eyes in amusement as he looked to me. ‘You’d rather we forget the unfortunate incident of the mages uprising against the templars and destroying half the damn city?’

‘No.’ I replied firmly ‘However that uprising was not the result of blood magic, it was a group of mages uprising against templar oppression.’

‘Ophelia’s right, we are not here to discuss that.’ agreed Leliana.

‘Although it should be taken into consideration.’ informed Cullen sternly. He thrust an annoyed hand towards me. ‘If you cannot claim responsibility over the actions of your mages then you leave nothing but doubt in my mind. Blood magic is a terrible practice. I’ve witnessed Senior Enchanters being corrupted by it in the circle of Magi in Ferelden. I’ve witnessed First Enchanter Orsino from Kirkwall suffer a similar fate.’

‘He was merely defending the mages from your lyrium-addled Knight-Commander Meredith.’ I argued.

Cullen looked at me seriously, shaking his head. ‘No Ophelia, that is not how it was. Orsino and his mages made their last stand with Hawke and his companions in the Gallows Prison courtyard. Our templars were forced to push forward hard on the assault and many of Orsino’s mages were killed. It was at this point that Orsino revealed that he knew about Quentin, a vile serial killing blood mage that had plagued our city many years prior. Orsino knew about this blood mage and had aided him in his research of the maleficarum arts. Orsino had secretly been using Quentin’s research to aid him in his practice of blood magic. I was there when Orsino used that magic to combine his body with the fallen corpses of his mage comrades. He transformed into the most hideous creature imaginable.’

‘He transformed into a Harvester?’ remarked Jowan, appearing disgusted as Cullen was. ‘I hadn’t heard that.’

‘Yes.’ confirmed Cullen sagely. The templar’s eyes drew solemnly to mine. ‘So believe me when I say, this is not the path you should ever venture down.’

‘His character was clearly weak, as was Uldred’s.’ dismissed Jowan. ‘We would only teach mages who revealed an extremely sound character and very strong morals.’

‘If you are monitoring that it is hardly a reassurance.’ observed Michel cynically.

Jowan snickered at the comment. ‘Do you think you’d do a better job at it, Ser Michel?’

‘I’d say Jowan monitoring our mages morality and character was a great reassurance.’ I added in support, angered at the rudeness of the chevalier.

Locking eyes with Michel from across the table, he looked back at me with an irritating calm expression.

‘Jowan has selflessly taken in mages from across Thedas at his expense.’ I informed the chevalier sternly ‘He teaches them, houses them and supports them for no coin. Children abandoned by parents who wish nothing to do with an offspring with arcane gifts are many in these parts. Jowan has ensured they have a place in this world.’. In annoyance, I pointed my finger at Michel. ‘How many nobles are putting their hands in their pocket to help with such a desperate plight? Is it better to see these poor souls begging for your charity on the dirty streets? You toss a coin at them and feel your conscience is clear? Is it better to rip these forsaken souls away from their friends and families and shove them into a circle tower where they can be beaten, berated and at worse tranquilised?’

‘Now who’s turning this into a templar versus mage debate.’ muttered Cullen under his breath.

‘A man’s actions dictate his morality.’ replied Michel sternly, his blue eyes remaining directly on me. The chevalier clenched his jaw, swallowing in anger as he mulled over thoughts of his own. ‘Jowan has not always acted in the best interests of mankind. Asking the people in this room to have faith in such a man is a gigantic request.’

‘Ophelia and I have both sacrificed everything for the well-being of these mages.’ informed Jowan, intent on ignoring the chevalier’s judgement. ‘Any coin that’s passed through our fingers has gone into the upkeep of these men, women and children.’. His dark eyes looked from Cassandra to Alistair. ‘We’ve been provided no support from Ferelden or the Chantry. It would have been easy for Ophelia and I to have turned these people away and claimed it was not our responsibility. But we truly care for these mages. Never question my moral compass when it comes to my mages.’

Leliana drew her hand to Jowan’s arm in support. ‘This is why we must have faith in him Cassandra. He does not have another agenda here. In fact, he stands to lose the most from aiding you.’

‘People never change.’ warned Cullen, eyeing the mage with suspicion. ‘A man that entertains demons is not a man I want in my court at the end of the day.’

‘A rather cliched statement coming from a templar.’ snapped Jowan ‘No doubt your Order hates blood magic. No doubt you have disliked me since the day we met as boys in the Kinloch Hold. Don’t let our qualms interfere with decisions that determine the fate of Thedas. And what of King Alistair? Leliana? Ophelia? Myself? We have our children’s wellbeing involved in this matter. Children that I’d vouch we would do anything to protect. This is a matter far greater than your judgement.’

Alistair nodded at Jowan. ‘You’re right. Our children cannot leave these walls until Sapientes is destroyed. My daughter and your son have never set foot on the red Ferelden soil of our lands. They are kept under tight guard in this palace and there they will remain until we can destroy this demon.’. He sighed, shaking his head. ‘Maker forgive me for this.’. Looking to Cassandra, Alistair pursed his lips. ‘Cassandra I’m sorry, but I support the proposal of using the arts of the Maleficarum against Sapientes. I feel it is the only way we can move forward to victory.’

Leliana smiled at Alistair in appreciation, clasping her hands together as if praying in thanks. The king nodded back to her with a half-smile, acknowledging her relief.

Cullen sighed angrily, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘On behalf of Knight-Vigilant Robard and the Templar Order I refuse the proposal of using blood magic against Sapientes. It is a terrible idea that, if permitted, will come back to haunt us in future days.’

Leliana, Jowan and I exchanged disapproving looks, although we were hardly surprised at Cullen’s decision.

‘I support the proposal of using the arts of the Maleficarum against Sapientes.’ informed Leliana loudly.

Cassandra sighed heavily. ‘As I said, you have no say in this vote.’

‘Sapientes intends to use my son as a pawn in ruling Thedas, I’d say I have a huge say in this topic.’ snapped Leliana. ‘Cassandra please, I am begging you to see that this is the only way we can defeat Sapientes.’

The Divine frowned, looking to Michel. ‘Everyone else has put forward their opinion. What do you say to this? You would be required to work alongside templars and mages on this quest.’

In the typical elegance of the knight, Michel cupped his hands together and rested them lightly on the table as he considered the matter. Concern filled his gracious face as he finally looked to Cassandra in order to answer her question.

‘Most Holy, I am a chevalier and bound to the service of the Emperor, the Maker and the people.’ confessed the Orlesian. ‘It is my duty to fear the Maker and maintain his Church. To serve the Emperor in valour and faith. To protect the weak and defenceless.’. The chevalier drew a hand across his jaw, pondering the matter before him. ‘The word maleficar is an ancient Tevene word for one who is depraved. I cannot rightly sit here and profess my servitude to the well-being of Emperor, Church and civilian whilst supporting the practice of such a school of dark arts. I cannot support this proposal presented by the mages of Skyhold.’

Cassandra looked proudly to the chevalier, as if his words touched her heart. ‘Yes, Michel brings up a good point. We should remember Transfigurations 1:2. Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they, who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world, or beyond.’

Leliana snorted at the woman. ‘Oh please. You know as well as I do that The Chant of Light verse that defines a maleficar does not explicitly decry any form of magic. Only the abuse of magic is not permitted.’

‘You’re taking it rather out of context.’ argued Cullen ‘Read in whole, The Chant of Light clearly states the maleficar arts are not permitted.’

‘Semantics.’ dismissed Leliana.

‘No actually it’s clearly stated throughout the Chant.’ retorted Cullen ‘If you care to read it as many times, as I have had the pleasure, you’d be well aware of that.’

Leliana placed a pensive finger on her lip. ‘Well I was the Divine up until this morning, so I probably know a thing or two about The Chant of Light.’ quipped Leliana shortly.

Her green eyes glared in annoyance at the templar.

‘Apparently not.’ muttered Cullen.

Cassandra remained stern as she stood at the table. She swept an anxious hand through her short hair, unwilling to declare her decision. Robed in white, her appearance reflected a divine presence yet her expression was quite the opposite.

Her brown eyes looked squarely at Jowan with malice.

‘There will be only one way this plan will proceed.’ Cassandra warned in a deathly voice ‘Every mage that learns the dark arts that Jowan proposes to teach must provide the Templar Order with a phylactery of their blood.’. Her stern eyes turned to me. ‘That includes you both.’

Jowan hissed at the comment, disgusted by the proposal. ‘So you can do what? Hunt us down after we’ve helped the Chantry do their dirty work? Round us up and tranquilise us? Was that the missing piece of the puzzle you lacked when we aided the Inquisition? You loathed the Ferelden mages but couldn’t do a thing about it after we defeated Corypheus. Now you seek to ensure we’re all kept under your thumb. Or worse?’

‘I will not allow any blood mage to wander unmonitored while I am Divine.’ warned Cassandra.

‘Unmonitored or unshackled?’ I asked darkly ‘We’re aware on your opinions in reinstating the circle towers in Ferelden. Are we to be the first mages you capture and force back into the circles?’

Cassandra glared at us, refusing to budge on the matter. ‘That is the price for teaching blood magic to your mages. If my templars cannot keep your mages in a circle where they can be monitored then you will provide phylacteries of all your mages that are to become maleficarum. If you cannot agree to that then this meeting is over.’

Leliana placed a desperate hand on both our arms, her eyes silently pleading to us. ‘Please.’ she urged ‘This is only way to defeat Sapientes. Do it for Valahorn. Do it for Caerwyn.’

Closing my eyes, I knew this was something that Jowan and I were not emotionally prepared to deal with. I had destroyed my phylactery when the mages in the Ostwick Tower rebelled. Smashing that glass onto the stone floor had been a significant moment in my life. Blood was spilled and I was finally free. To agree to give the templars a phylactery of my blood once more felt like my freedom was being handed back to them.

‘Fine.’ I muttered.

Looking over to Jowan, he flicked his hand angrily at Cassandra.

‘Yes, fine.’ muttered Jowan ‘If it makes you sleep better at night then so be it.’

‘Thank you.’ whispered Leliana ‘Do not worry about this. I swear it won’t amount to anything.’

‘Hardly reassuring considering you hold about as much influence as a Chantry stable hand now.’ observed Jowan cynically.

‘_Less_ influence actually.’ muttered Leliana.

Cassandra looked over to the brooding Knight-Commander, who was clearly outraged at her decision. ‘Training must begin immediately. Knight-Commander Cullen, you are to take your army of templars to Skyhold in order to learn from the mages and work with them in these new arts.’

‘What?!’ Jowan snapped back angrily ‘Absolutely not. We’ve no room to house one templar let alone an entire army. The templars are not to set foot in Skyhold.’

The Divine held up a hand to prevent the protesting Jowan and I were about to unleash.

‘The Chantry will fund this training and set up a proper encampment outside of the keep to house and feed these templars.’ informed Cassandra ‘Suitable funding will also be provided to the mages for their time, resources and training.’. The Seeker nudged her head to the chevalier. ‘Ser Michel, you will also need to accompany the templars to Skyhold. You will need to teach them of your knowledge and aid them where needs be.’

Lost for words, Michel stood up in surprise. ‘Most Holy, surely there is no need for me to accompany the templars and mages to Skyhold?’

With empathy, Cassandra nodded her head. ‘I am sorry Michel, this is what I need of you.’

Disheartened by the order, the chevalier sat back down at the table.

‘As you wish, Most Holy.’ he replied politely.

Cassandra turned her attention to Jowan and Cullen sternly. ‘I want to be kept updated on all matters regarding the mages and templars. You will give me weekly updates on training and your prediction on how long it will take to ready your templars and mages.’

‘It will take some time to teach this magic.’ warned Jowan ‘Time for my mages, and time to teach methods of protection to the templars.’

‘Then you’d better get going.’ ordered Cassandra. Her brown eyes drew to Jowan’s dangerously. ‘Don’t make me regret this.’

Sweeping up her papers from the table the woman marched angrily from the room, leaving the rest of us silent in shock.


	137. Lost Manners

Spilling out into the courtyard, the meeting was over and we were all relieved to be out of the suffocating chamber. Jowan paced up and down the stone cloister, clearly in disbelief of Cassandra’s decision as Leliana whispered to him of matters that appeared urgent. Alistair and his uncles were called away to attend other matters and left rather hastily, while Cassandra departed towards the castle with her entourage of guards. Even Cullen was determined not to linger, although he placed a subtle hand on my arm and gave it a gentle squeeze as he passed me by.

As I stood in the bright sunlight of the courtyard wondering what in the blazes had just happened, Michel came walking out of the chamber. Uncomfortably we came face to face, alone yet both wishing at this particular moment that we weren’t.

His blue eyes darted nervously from me, as if searching for an escape. There was none, for my eyes had also searched desperately for one.

‘Ophelia.’ acknowledged Michel shortly. ‘Congratulations on your victory in there.’

‘Thank you. It’s a victory for all of Thedas.’ I replied, annoyed at Michel’s obvious lack of support for the mages. ‘We should all be thankful the outcome was in the mage’s favour.’

The chevalier flicked his blond brows, silently suggesting that he did not see it in the same light. No longer acting as pleasant as he had in the Landsmeet Chamber, the chevalier came across as unfeeling and unpleasantly cold.

‘I hope you’ve been well?’ he inquired with strained politeness.

‘Never better.’ I replied curtly. ‘You?’

‘_Oui, très bien_.’ remarked Michel in Orlesian, tapping the hilt of his sword impatiently.

As strange as it was, Michel was being extremely close-mouthed as he stood before me. Never had I seen him at a loss for words. Or unwilling to speak? Usually the chevalier could talk one’s ear off, yet now he was as silent as the grave. 

‘Well, I should get going.’ I informed uneasily, edging my way from the uncomfortable situation.

As if the chevalier was deaf to my words, he frowned before lunging into a speech.

‘Not to criticise our Most Holy’s orders but this matter of training in Skyhold is one that I bitterly accept.’ Michel informed indignantly. The Orlesian brought a hand to the porcelain white skin of his temple, as if the very thought pained his head. ‘The importance of my duties in Orlais far exceed the matters I face here yet I am bound by duty to stay until the Chantry no longer requires my aid. I fear to ask how long will that be? You must understand Skyhold is not a place I wish to work in, and holds no affection in my heart. This news of having to return there now comes as a great shock to me.’

Ever so slightly insulted by the grandiose claims of the chevalier being far too busy to aid the templars and mages in defeating Sapientes, I urged myself to stay calm.

‘Don’t let me keep you then.’ I replied shortly.

His blue eyes glared in annoyance at my cold response.

‘Many thanks.’ replied Michel rigidly ‘It’s been such a joy conversing with you.’

‘Polite as ever, aren’t you?’ I muttered sarcastically.

Michel drew a breath, prepared to lash back at me when suddenly a group of mercenaries passed us by in the courtyard and called out to the chevalier. Michel greeted several Ferelden soldiers with friendly handshakes as they sung his praises and cheered for The Maister of Blades. As the mercenaries went on their way, the chevalier’s blue eyes returned to me once more, his face no longer jovial as it was before the soldiers.

‘In my line of work it’s what is expected from me.’ asserted Michel, gesturing to the soldiers now walking off in the distance. ‘Being polite to everyone. Emperor Gaspard has ordered me here to aid the Chantry and I will do so with friendship and civility. My personal feelings do not have a place in my line of word. They do not matter when I interact with friend or foe.’ 

‘Oh sorry, you’re polite to everyone except the present company.’ I corrected with a laugh. ‘Clearly you can’t hide your feelings that well.’

Michel shifted in irritation, his armour rustling loudly as his sword fell against his steel chausses.

‘Have I given you cause for concern in the way I conduct myself?’ he inquired cordially.

‘Not at all.’ I shrugged ‘You’d charm that pigeon over there if you could but right here and now you’re behaving as if we are brutal enemies. I’d like to know why?’

Michel gestured an elegant gauntleted hand to me. ‘Perhaps it is you with the issues rather than me? Take this meeting we’ve just had. Everyone in that room appeared to have issues with you.’

‘And that’s a surprise?’ I laughed.

‘Perhaps it is the way you choose to conduct yourself now? And your mages?’ reproached the chevalier. Rolling his eyes, he added curtly ‘Perhaps it matters little to any of us in the greater scheme of things?’

Amused at Michel’s indifference, the smirk grew on my face. ‘Yes, perhaps it is the way I choose to conduct myself? Without falsity, unlike some others around here? Chevalier or not, there is little substance in something so fictitious as you’ve clearly turned out to be.’

‘And you’re bitter to the core.’ observed Michel, returning the insult. ‘Time has turned your disposition sour.’

‘Cynical Michel, not bitter.’ I corrected.

The chevalier waved an airy hand in the air. ‘My life is surrounded by positivity. It must be hard to live so cynically.

‘It must be hard for you?’ I retorted with a laugh ‘Fooling a court? Fooling an empire? You act the part so well you must sometimes fool yourself?’

As if striking a nerve with the chevalier, Michel nodded icily. ‘My role is fake, this is true. But my life is not. I serve my Emperor and I have a beloved wife waiting for me back in Orlais.’. His blue eyes looked coldly at me, a curl on his lip revealing a pleased smile. ‘What do you have these days?’

Scoffing at the comment, I held my ground. Unaware Michel had remarried, I wasn’t going to let that concern me. Not now.

‘My daughter is the light of my life. And my role as a mage who fights for the rights of all mages is something I am very proud of. Sitting in the pocket of a ruler with a cold ring on your finger doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest, speaking from personal experience.’

‘Running a threadbare apostate group up in the mountains doesn’t sound appealing to me.’ replied Michel under his breath.

Snickering at the comment, I brushed my clothes in mocking sweeps. ‘Oh, is my attire not up to the Orlesian standards? No pearl buttons or silk dresses to catch your attention? Poor little kitten, how you must suffer talking to this shabby apostate.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ retorted Michel angrily, sweeping the loose wisps of blonde hair back from his face. ‘Your group shows no respect to the Chantry. Or to anyone else? You are a rebel group promoting blood magic. You are a danger to yourself and the greater Andrastian faith. It was disgraceful to sit there in that room with the Divine herself and see how disrespectful you and Jowan have become these days.’

‘How exactly are we disrespectful?’ I pressed. ‘For wanting to aid the Chantry in their otherwise suicide mission into the Fade? For aiding the templars? For aiding the mages who come to us in need?’

‘You flout the teachings of the Chantry and of the Maker himself.’ chastised the chevalier.

‘So, you’re a man of faith now?’ I scoffed.

‘My faith has always guided me as a chevalier.’ replied Michel determinedly. ‘Although I never needed his guidance as much as I did when you ripped my heart to shreds. I kneel to a higher power and perhaps you should do the same? Penitence may be the only way to absolve your fallen practices in the eyes of the Maker.’

Gobsmacked by such a prejudiced observation I stood there staring at him in disbelief.

‘You and Knight-Commander Cullen would get along really well these days.’ I exclaimed in disbelief. ‘I’d go so far as to say he’d be proud of your fanatical diatribe?’

‘I do not think we have anything useful to add to this conversation.’ informed Michel bluntly, passing me abruptly as he set off down the stone path of the courtyard. ‘You’ll have to beg my pardon, I must take my leave.’

Hearing his boots tap against elegantly on the stone, I felt my blood boil. There was so much left unsaid and for Michel to act so rudely made it all the worse. How dare he stand before me and shame the Ferelden mages?

‘Why don’t you say it as it is?’ I yelled out loudly ‘You clearly dislike mages so why lay on the nauseating charm in public? At least have the backbone to openly denounce our guild and leave it at that!’

The chevalier stopped in his tracks, turning back sharply to face me. His eyes darted around the open courtyard, well aware that people were now looking over at the pair of us.

‘You’re causing attention.’ he warned, furiously marching back to confront me.

‘_And?_’ I replied icily.

The chevalier drew closer, his cheeks tinged with fury, or possibly embarrassment? Although trying hard to present a calm countenance, his fists clenched tightly as if his anger was building up.

‘Is this about what happened in Redcliffe?’ he whispered in annoyance ‘What did you expect I would do after I found out you were carrying the king’s child?’

‘As much as I would have liked to have talked to you in detail about all that, I was dying at Redcliffe Castle at the will of Sapientes.’ I growled ‘When I awoke they told me that you had already ridden out, destined for Orlais. You were keen to restart your life before the bedsheets had even grown cold.’

‘You know nothing of what I endured during that time.’ warned the chevalier. ‘Your betrayal to our love was the final straw. A betrayal I thank the Maker for. Without it I would have never found my one true love. Lady Rose de Chevin is now my wife. She is my life these days. Your resentment is apparent but I promise you Ophelia I have moved on. I hope you can do the same.’

Laughing at the comment, I flicked a disinterested hand at him to dismiss the insult. ‘Don’t worry Michel, where you are concerned there is nothing to deal with. And to answer your question, no. None of this has to do with our past. It’s about that Orlesian mask you wear so well and it’s about your apparent hatred of mages that refuse to be imprisoned behind the stone walls of the Chantry. You’ve turned out quite the judgemental noble these days.’

‘Likewise.’ scorned the chevalier.

‘_The ancient Tevene word of maleficar means one who is depraved_.’ I echoed ‘Is that really how you see Jowan and I these days?’

‘It’s the meaning of the word maleficar, I did not invent the word.’ refuted Michel indignantly.

Disgusted by his blasé manner, I rolled my eyes at the Orlesian. ‘Your hatred of mages has clearly escalated.’

The chevalier thrust his hand out in frustration. ‘You’re not making me like them any better by this churlish display.’

‘You may be working for the Chantry in this matter but if you disrespect my mages like you have disrespected me just now you’ll have more to worry about than your precious faith being tainted.’ I warned ‘Skyhold is my home and you will treat my mages with respect.’

‘_Mon dieu,_ is that a threat?’ mused Michel. ‘The last time someone challenged me I ended up dueling them with rapiers at dawn. Should I bring mine to Skyhold?’

‘It’s a friendly warning from a depraved mage.’ I replied coldly ‘Rapiers at dawn would be a walk in the park by comparison.’. Turning away from the chevalier I stormed off down the cloister, unwilling to further engage with the judgmental Orlesian. ‘Safe journeys to Skyhold, Michel.’ I shouted ‘Watch out for the wolves on Gherlen’s Pass, they’re particularly fond of eating sheep.’


	138. Secrets and Promises

Returning to the palace, it was no surprise to find Jowan tossing cravats and shirts into his bags, preparing for our journey back home. There were mixed feelings about the decision to aid the templars. On one hand we were excited and on the other we were uneasy. The days ahead would inevitably bring uncertainty to our guild. But we stood a fighting chance at defeating Sapientes with the resources of the Chantry behind us, and that was all that mattered. Eager to return to Skyhold, we gathered our things and said our goodbyes to Alistair and the children.

_Their cheerful farewells somehow made Jowan and I feel even worse._

With swiftness we departed through the main hall and crossed paths with Cullen, who was reporting to Cassandra as she prepared to leave for Val Royeaux. The Knight-Commander was determined to return to Caer Bronach as soon as possible to make the necessary arrangements of moving his templars to Skyhold. Although tight lipped on his opinion of Cassandra’s decision, it was clear he was not enthused. There was a stern glint in his eyes that did not soften as I caught his attention. The Commander suggested we all travel together as Jowan and I made our way out of the palace, and quickly we mounted our horses and rode out of the gates of the city.

With heavy clouds looming, we rode at a hard pace along the North Road and by afternoon we’d crossed the Hafter River and were deep in the heart of the Bannorn. It was an odd journey riding with two people that I cared deeply for but who both clearly disliked each other. When Jowan rode beside me Cullen lagged behind, and whenever Cullen rode close the mage kicked his heels in and trotted ahead.

By nightfall we’d reached West Hill and were forced to make camp as the heavy rains came in with a violent storm approaching. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the moist smell of the earth filled our nostrils as we huddled in a small grove of trees. A light patter of rain soon turned into a heavy downfall, rendering the coverage of a few tree branches rather useless.

The bucketing rain made a fire impossible to light and Cullen cursed under plumes of frosty breaths as he failed several attempts to ignite a pile of tinder. My shivering hands tried to keep the rain from falling on the dry sticks as he willed a fire with his flint, but the wind and wetness made it an impossible task.

Jowan watched on in silence, eventually succumbing to the templar’s frustration.

‘Here, allow me.’ muttered Jowan.

Raising his palm effortlessly, a bright ball of blue flame appeared. It appeared identical to the one Jowan had tortured Arrus with, and I could tell by Cullen’s body stiffening that he noticed that too. The mage knelt to the tinder and dropped the flame, igniting the sticks with a strange blue fire that emitted a warm heat yet appeared to not burn down the tinder. Heavy rain beat down upon the blue fire, yet the furious weather could not extinguish it.

Cullen and I looked on in confusion as we beheld the roaring camp fire in the middle of a storm. Like something out of a dream, it made little sense.

‘The blue flame is something that I learnt from Sapientes a long time ago.’ informed Jowan quietly, as if he could hear the silent questions coming from our minds. ‘He told me from early on that my mortality would be my greatest weakness. We feel hunger and pain. Need warmth. Constantly we require things just to survive and yet every passing minute we slowly decay.’ He crouched by the flame as the rain fell hard on his back. The mage lowered his wet head, as if the memories carried a heavy weight. ‘Sapientes taught me ways to prolong the inevitable. He showed me how to live without being burdened by our constant mortal needs.’. Waving his hand to the flame, it sparked and danced with a welcoming heat. ‘Quite handy for keeping warm in places where darkness reigns.’

Shivering from the cold, I drew my soaking hands to the heat.

‘A _Primordial Rondure_ would come in handy right now?’ I chattered.

Knowing it was a spell not permitted in the circles did not prevent me from suggesting it. My cold numb body didn’t care at that particular moment. The Primordial Rondure was a spell from the maleficarum arts that Jowan had taught me in the past few years. And while I knew Cullen would not approve, casting it would make our night a lot more bearable.

Jowan’s dark eyes flicked to Cullen, who was silently studying the blue flame from afar.

‘That might be one too many parlour tricks for the Knight-Commander?’ warned the mage. ‘There’s survival, _and then there’s comfort_.’

Cullen frowned, approaching us at the fire. ‘Demonic spells of blue fire don’t comfort me.’

The rain splattered heavily on Cullen’s face, drawing his sandy waves into straighter locks of wet hair. His eyes turned to the watchtowers in the distance, once filled with light many years ago but now abandoned.

‘The West Hills are notorious for the temperature drops at night,’ educated the Commander solemnly ‘and many a watchman succumbed to an icy death out on the towers when the weather turned suddenly. We’d be fools not to find warmth out here where we can. I won’t let my judgement cloud our survival.’ 

Jowan arose from the fire and stretched out his arms in an elegant arc, murmuring several words under his breath. A clear orb pulsed around him and began to expand, coming towards Cullen and I. The templar instinctively took a step back as he reached for his hilt.

‘It’s fine.’ informed Jowan, moving his hands to push the orb wider. ‘Let the Primordial Rondure pass through you, it’s perfectly safe.’

‘Yes I’ve no doubt, but I don’t want that thing going through me.’ informed Cullen gruffly. ‘I’ve had the misfortune of being trapped in a clear magical orb before and I don’t care to revisit the experience.’

Grabbing his hand in mine, I squeezed it gently. ‘It’s okay.’ I reassured ‘This is just a sort of barrier spell. Come, you won’t feel a thing.’

The Commander shook his head, taking a step back. ‘Ophelia, I’m perfectly fine where I am.’

Jowan sighed. Dropping his hands, the orb faded away. 

Grabbing Cullen’s hand, I looked at him seriously. ‘You said you trust me?’

Clenching his jaw, the templar nodded back at me as the rain pelted down hard. ‘You know I do.’

‘Well, stay close and trust me.’ I replied.

Holding my hands in an arc I recited the words to the Primordial Rondure spell. A clear orb appeared around Cullen and I. Moving my arms to push the barrier wider, the orb extended around us until it was several meters on either side of the fire. Sealing the spell with a final murmur of arcane, I turned to see Jowan smirking at the gobsmacked templar.

Cullen was looking up at the sky in fascination, where the rain now fell heavily but bounced off the orb, affording us a dry respite to the furious storm now raging outside. Lightning flashed across the sky and the wind whipped angrily, yet none of the sounds passed into the orb. It was perfectly peaceful and silent.

The templar’s eyes fell to the wet ground that magically began to lose it’s moisture. Puddles of muddied water evaporated and soon the grass was dry and welcoming. He turned to see Jowan whispering a spell under his breath. The Commander suddenly placed a surprised hand on his armour as his clothing too turned dry.

‘What in the Maker is this?’ asked Cullen in surprise.

Jowan smirked, placing his pack by the fire as he sat eased himself to sit down. ‘Let’s call it the mage’s version of what you templar's call _a nice dry tent_.’

Amused at Jowan’s description, I joined him by the fire. ‘Except with no annoying pegs and ropes and soggy shoes.’

‘You performed it well that time.’ applauded Jowan ‘The orb didn’t wobble like it used to whenever you tried to cast the rondure.’

Snorting at the comment, I raised my hands to the fire. ‘My orbs never wobble.’

Jowan grinned as we realised how bad that sounded.

‘If you say so.’ he taunted.

‘Bonehead.’ I retorted.

‘Muttonhead.’ quipped Jowan.

The templar finished examining the orb and grabbed his pack to joined us by the fire. Cullen appeared lost in his thoughts as his eyes looked around the space, taking in everything he could about the rondure.

‘So this orb protects us from the elements?’ Cullen observed curiously.

‘And all types of weapons, both physical and magical.’ informed Jowan ‘You may find your templars will appreciate this spell when they travel in the Fade. This orb is essentially an indestructible fortress. A very handy thing to have when you can’t afford the luxury of owning a physical one.’

The templar raised his brows in surprise. ‘You jest? Are you telling me no one can infiltrate this barrier? Not by walking through it as you encouraged me to do then?’

‘No once the orb is sealed, as Ophelia did just then by reciting that spell, nothing can come in.’ reassured Jowan. ‘Not one sword or arrow can pass it. No human or spirit either. Besides it would be difficult to attempt such a feat, considering we are cloaked in complete invisibility.’

Relishing the warmth on my hands, I wiggled my fingers merrily by the fire. ‘Not even dragon’s fire can break a Primordial Rondure. It’s a fascinating spell.’

'It does however drain the mage of most of their mana for quite some time. And there are limitations on how wide you can cast it, depending on your abilities.' observed Jowan. 'A slight blemish on an otherwise perfect spell.'

Cullen shook his head in disbelief. ‘Unbelievable. Imagine the potential this could bring armies in battle? Wars could be won using this one spell. The schematic principles of warfare would be rendered completely useless when such a shield as this exists.’

Jowan lifted a smug brow. ‘Potential in a spell that is not Chantry approved? And a maleficarum spell no less. Why Cullen, you surprise me?’

The Commander frowned, turning to me. ‘You cast a maleficar spell? I thought you said you didn’t practice this kind of magic up in Skyhold.’

My fingers retreated from the fire swiftly as I gathered my thoughts and a plausible answer. Looking to Jowan, he widened his eyes with a shrug. The fact was we had been teaching many spells to the mages that weren’t in the Chantry guidelines. Never blood magic, but certainly some of the spells were maleficarum in nature.

‘Well, it’s rather a grey area?’ I replied uncertainly.

Cullen frowned at me. ‘I_t’s rather a grey area?_ That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? It’s either circle magic or it’s maleficarum magic. There is no grey area.’

‘Spells like this are not blood magic.’ I explained a little more adamantly. ‘Yes, they are of the maleficarum variety but as you can see no damage was done performing it. Obviously these types of spells are imperative to know when put in tight spots. Jowan has shared some of his knowledge with me over the years.’

Although irritated the templar merely sighed, unwilling to press the matter. Cullen pulled out some rations from his satchel and extended a portion to me. ‘Here take this, you haven’t eaten since we crossed the river.’

Surprised that Cullen was actually taking note of when I ate, I accepted the food with appreciation. I was starving.

‘Thank you, Jowan and I forgot to pack any.’ I muttered sheepishly ‘It saves us from stealing your food later when you’re sleeping.’

The Commander pointed an accusing finger at me. ‘You jest but I suspect that’s what would have happened. What person in their right mind doesn’t pack rations when going on a journey?’

‘In our defence, Jowan and I were planning to spend the night back in that inn at the crossroads we passed a few hours ago. They serve nice warm meals there.’

Jowan nodded. ‘The scotch eggs there are the best in all of Ferelden.’

With complete reproach, Cullen looked at the pair of us in disbelief. ‘So you travel with no food because you expect no trouble to ever arise on the road and a nice cozy inn along the way to cook supper for you? Maker help me, what happens if one of you gets injured? Or...’. The Commander flung his hand to the sky. ‘…you get caught in a storm? What then? You just starve to death? How is it that the pair of you are still alive?’

‘We would have packed rations but the urge to flee from your wonderful Divine Elizabeth as fast as we could was too strong.’ observed Jowan sarcastically ‘My appetite diminished somewhat after this morning’s meeting.’

‘Likewise.’ muttered Cullen under this breath.

The templar withdrew some more food and extended the rations to Jowan. Nudging his head to the mage, he encouraged Jowan to take the portion. ‘You should eat too, I highly doubt boiled lollies in your satchel is enough to sustain a grown man after a long day’s ride.’

Jowan’s lip curled as he accepted the rations from Cullen. ‘The ever watchful templar doesn’t approve of sweets?’

‘Not as a main source of nourishment, no.’ replied the Commander. Cullen raised a brow at the mage. ‘You used to eat those in the circle tower, I haven’t forgotten that either.’

The Commander chuckled at Jowan’s surprise. Tearing off a piece of dried jerky, the templar munched away.

‘Cinnamon bullseyes, correct?’ added Cullen.

‘Naturally.’ affirmed Jowan.

Cullen shook his head as he took a long sip of water from his flask. ‘I should have known when I saw Athalwolf Guildersleeve sucking down the same sweets at Skyhold that it was you. No one above the age of twelve actually enjoys those sickly sticky teeth breakers. It’s funny what you remember from old templar shifts.’

Jowan rolled his eyes, taking a bite of the salted meat. ‘I remember the food served to us at the Kinloch Hold was rather putrid.’

‘Cold, tasteless and abnormally runny.’ recalled Cullen ‘We too ate the same meals. If you could call it that?’

Grinning at the pair, I took a bite of the tough jerky with pleasure. ‘Look at the pair of you, reminiscing about the good old days.’

Cullen and Jowan scoffed at the observation.

‘How was the food in the Ostwick Tower?’ inquired Cullen. ‘Any better up in the Free Marshes?’

Throwing a dead serious stare at the Commander, I held it as the templar chuckled in response.

‘We got soup. A whole lot of soup.’ I replied unenthusiastically. ‘And on Sundays to make up for a week of soup we got stew and potatoes.’. I turned to Jowan and threw him a dirty look. ‘At least you had access to lollies in the Kinloch Hold.’

The mage took a bite of the rations and frowned. ‘Senior Enchanter Sheldon rewarded his most gifted students with sweets. It was one of the reasons I studied so hard. Not for the love of magic. It was for the love of those wonderful bullseyes. I wonder what happened to him?’

‘He requested a transfer to another Circle.’ informed Cullen ‘It happens on occasion. I remember having to do the paperwork for Sheldon.’

‘Our Senior Enchanter rewarded us with nothing.’ I muttered.

Cullen threw me an amused look as he took another bite of his food. ‘That’s rather uninspiring?’

‘Are you beginning to see why I was so excited to savour your culinary delights the other night?’ I teased.

Jowan scoffed and Cullen laughed loudly in amusement.

‘Which course are you referring to?’ teased Cullen.

Turning to Jowan, I nudged my head towards the Commander. ‘Roast venison, honeyed carrots and butter mashed potatoes. Oh, and this stewed pear and sweet cake dessert. He made that for dinner.’

Jowan eyed the Commander up and down, a mischievous curl on his lip. ‘Many thanks for extending the invitation, Cullen.’ he mused ‘I would have enjoyed you cooking for me.’.

The Commander rolled his eyes. ‘There’s a quick way to ruin a romantic night. Would you like to sleep in my bed also?’

Biting my lip, I turned to see Cullen curse under his breath. ‘Maker damn it, forget I said that.’

Jowan rolled his eyes in disgust. ‘You two are hopeless.’

‘What did I do?’ I protested playfully ‘I’m just sitting here listening to Cullen dig his own grave.’

‘It was just dinner.’ muttered Cullen lowly, unwilling to look at Jowan in the eye. ‘There’s nothing going on between Ophelia and I.’

The mage thrust his hand at Cullen. ‘Behold the worst liar in Thedas.’

Unable to keep a straight face, Cullen groaned with a chuckle. ‘Fine, you got me. But Jowan, no can know about Ophelia and I. You must swear you’ll not breathe of word of this to anyone. Anyone.’

‘Yes because I’m so desperate to sing it from the rooftops.’ replied Jowan dryly. Noticing the serious look on our faces, the mage sighed in defeat. ‘You needn’t worry, I’ll keep your dirty little secret. Ophelia is my friend and I wouldn’t betray her confidence.’

Throwing Jowan a small smile, I was thankful he was being so understanding. Knowing his opinion on the subject, he didn’t have to be as obliging as he was acting.

‘Thank you Jowan.’

‘Yes, thank you.’ acknowledged Cullen.

‘Just promise me no displays of sickening affection in my presence.’ added Jowan cynically. ‘That includes gooey lovesick stares.’

The templar waved his hand at the mage. ‘You have my word there will be none of that when I get to Skyhold. We must be very cautious.’

‘None in Skyhold but plenty of displays of irritating affection on our journey home.’ I teased.

Turning to me seriously, the Knight-Commander shook his head. ‘Don’t Ophelia. Jowan has asked us to behave and we should respect his wishes.’

‘Most appreciated.’ acknowledged Jowan.

‘No irritating stares. No touching. No fun.’ informed Cullen seriously.

Drawing closer to me with a grin, the Knight-Commander swiftly planted a deep and lingering kiss on my lips.

I laughed into the templars kiss as beside us Jowan pretended to dry retch.

‘For the record, I’d like to say how utterly miserable it is to witness the pair of you so disgustingly happy over there.’ informed Jowan.

Cullen chuckled, drawing my hand in his as he kissed it affectionately. ‘Another win, eh?’

‘A mage and templar holding hands like idiots.’ muttered Jowan ‘What a pair of muttonheads you’ve both become.’

‘We need to find you a lovely templar lass and change your mind.’ I teased.

Jowan glared at me with a smile. ‘Don’t even joke about it.’

Cullen grinned, tapping his lip playfully. ‘Jowan, I heard a rumour a while back that you were in a relationship with Fiona?’

Snorting at the comment, the mage looked outraged. ‘She’s old enough to be my mother!’

‘And she’s Alistair’s mother to boot.’ I laughed.

As soon as the words escaped my mouth I froze in terror knowing the terrible mistake I had just made.

‘What did you just say?’ asked Jowan curiously.

‘She said Fiona was Alistair’s mother.’ echoed Cullen in surprise. The Commander’s eyes pressed hard onto me. ‘Ophelia? Why would you say such a thing?’

‘_Shit_.’ I muttered under my breath.

Turning to my companions, I knew this was not a game. In the wrong hands this information could be extremely dangerous.

‘You both need to promise me right now that information goes nowhere.’ I warned. ‘The strength and stability of the Ferelden throne depends on this being kept a secret. And if anyone does learn of it, I’ll know one of you blabbed and Maker help you if that happens.’

‘King Maric slept with Fiona and conceived Alistair?’ remarked Jowan curiously. ‘Alistair is half-elf then? And his mother is a mage in our collective? Yet still he gives us mages such a hard time?’

‘Alistair doesn’t know.’ I mumbled.

The men looked back at me in shock.

‘You never told Alistair about his mother?’ frowned Cullen ‘Why in the world not? You were married to the man. Surely you must have felt some obligation?’

‘Fiona made me swear not to say a word.’ I frowned ‘And I was doing a good job of it until now. Damn it all, I can’t stress how serious this is.’

‘Why can’t Alistair know who his real mother is?’ pressed Jowan.

‘Come on Jowan, you know what he’d do.’ I sighed ‘Alistair would have pursued Fiona to the end of Thedas just to reunite. You know as well as I do that he would have heralded her as his mother to all of Thedas, despite the consequences. I know the man well enough to realise his heart is bigger than his head. He would not care one jot about his elven heritage. But if anyone knew he was half-elf, his strength as a leader would be dismantled. And I can’t have that when I need Alistair to focus all his attention on protecting Caerwyn and Valahorn. Not trying to cling to a shredded reputation whilst attempting to rule an unstable kingdom.’

Jowan raised his brows in surprise. ‘He deserves to know his heritage at the very least? If not for him, then at least for Caerwyn? She’s quarter elf and may wish to know of it one day?’

‘You know we make a lot of hard decisions for the greater outcome.’ I replied seriously. ‘This news affects Alistair and my daughter. It’s as personal as it gets. Caerwyn is next in line to the throne and that too will be destabilised if word of her lineage came out. It has to be this way.’

‘Do you want her becoming the next Queen of Ferelden?’ asked Cullen doubtfully. ‘Perhaps there is some merit in the truth being known? You may get your daughter back?’

Silently I pondered the words of the templar. It was a scenario I had played over in my head many times. Each time however I came to the same conclusion. Deal with Sapientes first and then try and entertain a way to get back Caerwyn.

‘I’m well versed in the common elvish tongue but I fear my lack of knowledge of elven lineage comes across as naïve?’ muddled Jowan ‘How is it that Alistair has no elven features? He looks completely human.’

‘Most half-elves appear more human than elvish.’ I explained ‘Michel de Chevin is half-elven, if you recall? He appears fully human, however I believe he mentioned he has certain elvish attributes such as a higher resilience to poisons. And his sight is far superior, I remember he could see things at a far distance that I never could. And he has better night vision.’. Unwilling to delve into my relationships with either men, I was hesitant to continue. ‘Alistair is very agile and has great stamina.’

In the corner of my eye I could see Cullen stir at the comment, clearly jumping to conclusions.

‘He rides a horse better than any man in the Ferelden guard.’ I explained hastily, keen to erase that last part. ‘And his reflexes are outstandingly sharp. You could put it down to him being trained by the best mentors, but you’d soon see he has a gift that is hard to explain.’

‘Attributes that Alistair may have been unable to explain?’ observed Jowan ‘He might like to know why he’s unnaturally agile and full of stamina?’

The mage smirked, his dark eyes darting to see if the Commander would react.

Cullen shook his head. ‘No, Ophelia is right. The worst thing would be for that secret to come out. No Ferelden would accept their king being a bastard half-elf. Alistair’s human side echoes of Maric. That is what the people see in their leader. They expect him to be the man that Maric was. An entire man.’

‘My decision to keep that from Alistair hasn’t been an easy one.’ I explained to Jowan. ‘Despite everything we’ve been though, I still feel guilt for not telling him. I stand by that decision though. You must promise me not to ever reveal this secret.’

‘Of course.’ promised Cullen.

‘Fine.’ muttered Jowan ‘My my, aren’t the pair of you a secretive bunch. Anything else I need to swear not to reveal? Now’s your time.’

Cullen turned to unpack his sleep bag. ‘No, I think that’s all. We should get some rest, tomorrow I will be setting out early for Caer Bronach.’. The Commander drew my pack to him, and pulled out my bag. ‘We should sleep together for warmth.’ he suggested, playfully grinning at me. ‘Wouldn’t want to risk getting stiff out here.’

Raising a suggestive brow, Cullen and I began to laugh.

‘Ugh spare me.’ groaned Jowan, drawing his bag. ‘I’m sleeping on this side of the orb. Far far away from you both.’

‘You’re welcome to join us?’ I teased ‘For warmth Jowan, we are doing this purely for warmth.’

Jowan chuckled, retiring to his spot. ‘My apologies Ophelia, I don’t sleep with templars.’

‘Yes, and one mage is enough for me.’ chuckled Cullen ‘Even then I’m sleeping with one eye open.’

Playfully I pushed the templar’s shoulder. ‘You best sleep with two eyes open because you’re not sleeping with your armour prodding me from behind and your chausses rubbing against my legs.’

Cullen smiled mischievously as he started to unbuckle his breastplate. ‘Spoil sport.’

‘That templar kit needs to come off.’ I ordered ‘It looks even more sharp than your Inquisition armour and you know how much I loved being jabbed by that.’

‘Oh I know all too well.’ teased Cullen.

Jowan pretended to wail into his hands. ‘Can you both just stop talking. It’s too much.’

‘Good night Jowan.’ I laughed ‘Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

‘Goodnight.’ called out Jowan sleepily ‘Bed bugs can bite me any day over having to listen to you two love fools.’


	139. The Heart’s Longing

Arising just before dawn, we were pleased to see the stormy night had subsided into a serene morning. Recommencing our travels, we headed west along the North Road past the ominous watchtowers. At the northern part of Lake Calenhad Cullen departed for Caer Bronach, informing us he’d begin moving his troops out within a few days. Jowan and I continued on towards the Frostback Mountains, eager to arrive home. Up the path we weaved our way slowly, and finally galloped the last part of the mountain trail across the drawbridge and into Skyhold.

Pounding hooves raced across the cobblestones as we galloped through the gates. Our horses neighed in surprise as we quickly pulled the reins tight on our horses, desperately attempting to slow down before ploughing into a large congregation gathered in the courtyard.

‘What in the blazes?’ I gasped.

The stone inner keep was filled with a large crowd that were not our mages. Hundreds of colourfully dressed men and women turned their heads curiously at Jowan and I, whispering to each other as they sipped from goblets.

‘Did we just ride into the wrong keep?’ asked Jowan with a frown.

Decorated with vibrant banners, twenty wooden merchant stalls were set up around the courtyard, and behind each was a mage dressed in brown monk robes. They were serving mead to eager the patrons, keen to sample the entire Magi Monk Mead range. Men and women gathered round, laughing jovially and drinking with such festivity it could have been Yule. Fereldens. Nevarrans. Antivans. Orlesians. Even a magister from the Tevinter Imperium appeared in the crowd. All merrily sipping away in the courtyard of Skyhold.

Jowan and I hitched our horses swiftly at the stables and made our way towards the crowd with hesitant steps.

_Thud_!

Out of nowhere a bolt whistled through the air and landed hard into the stable wall. We turned in surprise to see a familiar monk rushing towards us, Bianca in one hand and the other hand held up to prevent us from moving any closer to the jovial gathering.

‘Brother Jowan! Sister Ophelia! Glory be to you! Fancy seeing you both back at the keep so soon.’ laughed Varric nervously, running an anxious hand up and down the strand of rosary beads laced around his neck. ‘Hahaha bless your perfect timing. I could have sworn the mages said you’d be away for the rest of the month?’

Crossing his arms before the dwarf, Jowan’s eyes narrowed in displeasure. ‘_Brother Han Some_.’ he acknowledged dryly ‘I see you’ve turned my courtyard into some crass mead carnival?’

‘Come on Riddles, you know this is a blessing.’ urged Varric in a hushed voice. ‘This is the largest group I’ve ever mustered up here. Three hundred tourists for a week’s stay at five hundred groschen a head. And that’s not including all the overpriced booze they’re planning to drink here and the stuff they’ll take back with them. We’re gonna to be swimming in coin after this. That’s money for old rope! Easy easy coin to keep your boat of mages afloat!’

Squinting in the distance, Jowan chortled as he spotted several of his senior enchanters playing Antivan jigs on violins on the upper stone platform. ‘You’re using my mages as waiters and for entertainment purposes?’

‘They were begging me to play for the crowd!’ declared Varric. ‘These mages of yours love to put on a good show more than an Orlesian circus troupe.’

Unable to wipe the grin off my face, I shook my head at the rogue. ‘Varric where on earth did you muster all these people from?’

Varric threw his head back with a laugh. ‘Ahh that’s advertising for ya, Sparrow. Some well-placed invitations to this fine Skyhold Brewery Holiday Package was placed on notice boards around Kirkwall, Antiva City, Seleny, Nevarra City, Wycombe, and Minrathous. My network helps me out with stuff like that.’. The dwarf slapped his knee, as if in disbelief. ‘By the end of the fortnight I had over a hundred carrier birds with booking requests. By the end of the month all these fine folks had already paid up and were ready to leave. We started a caravan tour from Orzammar and transported everyone up Gherlen’s Path yesterday. This is day one of a once in a lifetime holy booze fest.’

‘Essentially you’re saying you’ve known about this tour for months yet failed to mention a breath of it to either me or Ophelia.’ interrogated Jowan. ‘Yet strangely I recall that giving notice was the condition that we agreed on in order for this ridiculous spectacle to occur in our keep. That we got ample warning before you brought tours into Skyhold.’

Varric ran a guilty hand through his brown hair. ‘Could have sworn I sent you word? Well you know how it is? Post gets lost up the mountain all the time.’

‘Are you saying we have a week of this until they all leave?’ I grimaced, turning to Jowan uneasily. ‘It’s not really the best time for three hundred guests.’

The dwarf clapped his hands in encouragement ‘Come on, it’ll be just like any other week. All that’s different is the courtyard is full of fun-loving tourists rather than just bored mages. Try not to get bogged down in the details here.’

Jowan began picking the lint off his sleeves in irritated picks. ‘Where are they to sleep? Who’s to feed them?’

The rogue threw his hands up to the sky, theatrical as a troubadour. ‘Sleep under the stars at Skyhold at our very own Magi Monk luxury camp site. Visit the monks and receiving free blessings and a complimentary goblet of mead on arrival. Visit our established cellars at T_he Cock and Bull_ for a fifteen percent discount off selected ales. Sit in our luxurious riverside marquis and enjoy the finest Ferelden cuisine prepared by the best chefs in Thedas.’

‘Best chefs?’ I frowned.

Varric shrugged. ‘These two blokes I met in _The Hanged Ma_n. They were chefs from Antiva once upon a time. Or so they say?’

Turning back to the gates, I frowned. ‘Did we fail to notice a camp coming in?’

The dwarf threw a thumb behind him, pointing towards the other side of the keep. ‘We’ve set up tents by _The Three Arches River_. It’s spacious down there. Even got my men to set up a large drinking Marquis out there for our nightly entertainment.’

Drawing my hand to my throbbing head, I shook it in disbelief. ‘Perfect. You’ve set up camp right in the place where the templars will be setting up camp.’

‘In the next few days they’ll start arriving.’ informed Jowan crisply. ‘I hope your tourists likes templars. A lot of templars.’

Varric's amused expression faded into a frown. ‘Chantry thugs? What do they want up here? Ahh shit, _what did you guys do_ _down there_? Riddles did you make some dodgy deal with a demon again?’

Jowan glared at the dwarf. ‘Why do you always assume I’m making a deal with a demon?’

The rogue chuckled. ‘Because that’s what you do best!’

‘We’re working with the templars to defeat Sapientes.’ I explained. ‘Using Jowan’s rich knowledge in the maleficarum arts, we’re to teach the templars defence against blood magic. Also, we’ll be training our mages in the maleficarum arts.’

‘Yeah sure, good one!’ laughed Varric ‘Imagine the templars reaction to that? Skyhold would be toast.’

Pulling nervously on the rope belt attached to his robes, Varric’s brown eyes darted between us as he realised Jowan and I were being serious.

‘Nooooo!’ agonised Varric. ‘What did Uncle Varric tell you kids about making positive choices? Performing blood magic in front of a group of templars is the opposite of that.’

‘Divine Elizabeth agreed to it.’ explained Jowan, his eyes catching Varric’s subtle grimace at the mention of the woman. ‘In the end, Cassandra wants Sapientes defeated and this is the way to achieve it.’

Varric sighed, shaking his head. ‘Seeker you’re in over your head.’

‘Why is that?’ frowned Jowan.

Folding his hands across his chest, the dwarf looked us square in the eye. ‘You kids are smart. Maybe the smartest I know? But you’ve got shit all street smarts.’. He pointed a pudgy finger at me and then to Jowan. ‘Naïve and brazenfaced. That’s what I should call you. You know the Seeker magically transformed into an arsehole the day the Chantry flashed that golden Divine ticket in front of her face. Whaddya reckon she’s going to do to the pair of you now you’ve come out and admitted you’re maleficars? After you've done her dirty work you're both toast.’

‘It comes down to us needing to ensure the templars are successful in defeating Sapientes.’ muttered Jowan ‘We’re doing this so Valahorn and Caerwyn won’t be haunted by this demonic fool for their entire lives.’

Varric nodded. ‘I get ya, Riddles. I do. But what happens when our fun-loving Divine Lizzy uses this against you as revenge for trying to kill her all those years back? This Skyhold posse we got going here is going to be screwed. The Seeker will wring each of your necks.’

‘And yours.’ I muttered.

The rogue kissed his crossbow as he attached it to his belt once more. ‘Let her try, Bianca’s got my back.’

‘Surely she has a kind side. You must have seen it?’ I implored gently, knowing it was a sore subject for Varric. ‘Cassandra might not be as hateful as we all believe her to be?’

Jowan rolled his eyes at me. 

‘The Seeker I knew at Skyhold ain’t the same lady she is today.’ muttered Varric. ‘If you spent as much time with her as I did you’d know this role changed her.’

Jowan patted the dwarf sympathetically on the arm as he made his way to the main hall. ‘I must speak to the senior enchanters.’ he called back over his shoulder. ‘Come find me later, you can fill me in with what this tour package involves for the next week.’

Varric grinned as Jowan darted between a group of drunken patrons tasting Magi Monks Extra Strong Holy Water. Deftly the mage whipped a goblet of mead from a mage dressed as a monk, and several cubes of cheese on a platter before scurrying off.

‘It’s good to be back here, Sparrow.’ observed Varric pleasantly ‘I never realise how much I miss the place until I’m back in the thick of it.’

Grabbing my pack begrudgingly I began to walk to the main hall. ‘Wait until you hear who’s coming to work here as we all train together? I’ll give you a clue. He’s a templar.’

Varric groaned, clutching his brown hair in amused delight. ‘No!? It can’t be. Curly? Templar Curly is coming here to learn tricks of the maleficarum trade?’. The dwarf laughed in disbelief. ‘You couldn’t make this stuff up, but I’m tellin’ ya – it’s gold! Shit Sparrow, I’m so sorry.’

‘And Michel de Chevin.’ I added flatly.

Varric burst into hysterics, slapping his knee in delight. ‘No!? NO! No fucking way! Did you piss off the gods or something? Why would Goldie be involved in this thing you got going with the Chantry? Does Cullen need a punching bag to practice on?’. The dwarf skipped several steps, eagerly making his way up to the entrance of the main hall with delight. ‘This is real poetical, Sparrow. Two arseholes who screwed you over are forced to come back and work under you. You better make them pay.’

Varric punched his fist hard into his hand, throwing me a silent nod as if the deal was done already.

‘Sounds good Varric.’ I muttered.

The dwarf noticed my concern as I passed him at the main door and placed a hand on my arm. ‘Don’t worry kid, Riddles and I have your back. Bianca too.’

‘It’s not that.’ I explained darkly, recalling the incident with Michel outside the Landsmeet Chamber. ‘In Denerim I bumped into Michel briefly. He’s changed Varric. The man is rude, judgemental and acts holier than thou. To my face he denounced us mages up here as nothing more than depraved apostates.’

‘’So he’s an Orlesian prick?’ dismissed Varric ‘We kind of suspected that when he bolted from Redcliff when you were up shit creek.’

Shifting in annoyance, I knew deep down I had never forgiven him for doing that. ‘With all the airs and graces he could muster, Michel informed me he doesn’t want to be working at Skyhold and has far more important matters to attend to back in Orlais.’

‘Why the hell is he coming here then?!’ chuckled Varric.

‘Apparently he’s being forced to help the Chantry at the behest of Emperor Gaspard. His knowledge of the Eluvians is considered valuable in order for the mages and templars to navigate their way into the Nephilim Realm.’. Frowning, I shook my head. ‘It’s just a feeling but I fear he’ll be nothing but trouble up here. We should be careful when it comes to Michel de Chevin.’

‘You should be careful.’ warned the rogue.

Sneering at the observation, I clenched my pack tighter in my hand. ‘Don’t worry, he’s married. Something he was very eager to crow loudly in front of my face.’

Varric rubbed an uneasy hand across his jaw, as if he was already privy to the fact.

‘You knew?’ I remarked in surprise.

‘Ah yeah, I kind of went to the wedding.’ mumbled Varric.

Dropping my bag, I stopped in the middle of the hall. ‘You what?!’

Swiftly the rogue picked up the bag and beckoned me to move along. ‘Yeah about four months back. He married Marquis Lothair’s daughter, Rose Antoinette Doucy. Big cathedral wedding in Lydes. It was a huge affair in Orlais, the guestlist was crazy. Everyone who was anyone attended.’

‘Why were you there then?’ I asked flatly.

Varric clutched his chest playfully. ‘Your words wound me Sparrow.’. The dwarf waved off my serious stare. ‘Now now, I was just as surprised to receive an invite. I figured I should go for networking purposes; you never know when an Orlesian in your pocket can come in handy. And yeah, I didn’t tell you because I knew it’d just make you feel like shit. And of course I felt like shit for going. So I just-‘

‘Okay, I get it.’ I sighed ‘What do I really care about that irritating Orlesian faux-pas? Michel can marry a canon for all I care.’

‘That’s the spirit!’ cheered Varric. Thrusting the bag in my hands, the dwarf turned quickly to a group of tourists entering the hall. ‘Right I gotta go. My holy blessing ceremony starts soon and I gotta put on the cardinal robes.’

The rogue scuttled down the hall, greeting the men and women he passed with a jovial high five. Laughing to myself, I had to agree with Varric at that point.

It was good to be back in Skyhold.

****

Standing before the mirror in his chambers, Alistair stood patiently as an attendant dressed him. On any other day he was quite capable of putting on his own clothes and altogether refused such privileges a king usually came to expect. But today he was in dire need of advice on popular Ferelden fashions.

‘One more moment, Your Majesty.’ informed the attendant politely as he carefully laid out an arrangement of garments on the bed.

Alistair sighed heavily. He didn’t like to be fussed over and he certainly hadn’t lived a life where people had catered to his every need. In fact, the Ferelden had grown up quite alone and with little to his name aside from a shameful royal secret he was told never to speak of. 

On this particular afternoon Alistair had arranged with Theresa of Gwaren to take a turn in the village of Leifnor, just outside of Denerim. A courtship meant proper attire and Alistair was never the one to know what that actually entailed. Consequentially he had brought in the two experts of royal courting – his royal dressing attendant and his uncle, Arl Eamon of Denerim.

Standing by the chamber window, his uncle grinned as the attendant presented the king with a pair of black and green short padded breeches with white hose, a white shirt, black embroidered cloak and a modest frilled ruff.

Alistair dubiously eyed the garments. ‘Is this really the trend these days?’

‘Just put it on lad.’ chuckled Eamon.

Begrudgingly the king accepted the clothing and began to dress from behind a privacy screen.

‘‘When Theresa sees you looking so presentable you’ll see why you made the effort.’ called out Eamon. ‘The ladies always appreciate a man putting a little effort in when courting.’

‘It’s not a ball Eamon, I’m merely going to Leifnor for the afternoon.’ retorted Alistair.

‘You should take her to the alehouse by the mill?’ suggested Eamon ‘Or the Chantry gardens. They’re private and will afford you a little intimacy.’

Alistair shifted uncomfortably in his padded breeches. ‘Eamon you know it’s not like that with Theresa.’

The Arl waved a dismissive hand. ‘Nonsense boy! All she needs is a little encouragement. I saw the way she smiled when you touched her hand at dinner the other night. There’s interest between you both. You need to kindle it, that’s all.’

‘She’s very sweet, I would not wish to force the matter just because you want another wedding.’ muttered Alistair. ‘Things may change as we get to know each other. It will take time for both of us to know if we truly have the feelings for each other to become husband and wife.’

Eamon raised a curious brow. ‘How close have you gotten?’

The king laughed from behind the screen. ‘Hah! Isn’t that a tinsy-winsy bit personal? And creepy. A creepy uncle question. I’m calling you out on it right now. Stop it. Stop it now or else.’

The Arl rubbed his grey beard in interest. ‘It’s gone that well, has it?’

Alistair grimaced at his uncle’s constant interest in his personal life. ‘Maker save you Eamon for no one else will. Well if you must know, nothing but a kiss or two on the lips. To be honest, I’m not sure there is a great spark between us?’

‘It’s a start.’ encouraged the Arl. ‘She’s a virgin so she’s bound to be reserved when it comes to affection. And no woman of virtue is going to throw herself at the King of Ferelden. Women know men value modesty. It’s up to you to take the lead.’

Alistair groaned. ‘Stop! I don’t even want to know how you know that she is chaste, Eamon.’

‘Naturally her father told me.’ informed Eamon.

‘Maker help me.’ muttered Alistair.

The Arl shrugged, unaware as to why his nephew disapproved. ‘Is that a surprise? Any potential suitor of the king should fill the proper requirements before she begins a courtship. To be of noble birth, of child bearing age, unmarried and preferably not spoiled by another man.’

‘Spoiled by another man?! Are you hearing yourself!? mused Alistair ‘You sound like a creepy old man.’

Alistair stepped out from behind the screen, looking quite the fashionable Ferelden noble. His eyes widened in horror as the assistant held out a final piece of clothing.

_One black codpiece._

‘No, no, no. I’m drawing the line at that!’ protested Alistair, pointing a mortified finger to the offending garment.

The attendant frowned, turning to the Arl as if silently imploring he aid in persuading the king. Unfortunately the Arl had begun laughing so hard his face was turning bright red.

‘With all respect Your Majesty, one cannot wear that style of hose and breeches without a codpiece.’ explained the attendant ‘The delicate material of the garments makes his majesty’s…ahem…rather exposed. A codpiece is essential.’

Alistair crossed his arms cynically. ‘Yes I’m well aware of the mechanics behind a codpiece. But that thing there is padded and accentuated beyond belief. What message am I trying to send to the poor woman?’

‘The padded piece is at the height of Ferelden and Orlesian couture, my king.’ explained the attendant politely. ‘It represents power and sophistication, which you are at the top of the chain. You won’t find a reputable noble in Ferelden not wearing such a piece these days. And this is made of the finest Orlesian cotton weave.’

‘Well at the risk of my ahem being exposed. Fine.’ begrudged Alistair, grabbing the piece. He rolled a hand at the men, dismissing them. ‘I can do this last part myself. Thank you for your help, you may both leave.’

The attendant bowed and departed with a flick of his elegant waistcoat, while Eamon slowly ambled to the door.

‘Have fun this afternoon, my lad.’ he called out at the doorway. ‘Remember, this is an important outing for you both. Theresa’s father mentioned to me his daughter is looking forward to this outing, so now’s your chance to make a good impression. Make sure you ask Theresa lots of questions and listen to the answers boy, always listen. Don’t forget to make Theresa feel like a queen. Maker knows we need one’.

Alistair frowned as he heard the door close. His uncle had been pushing this courtship hard on him ever since the Arl had learnt of Theresa of Gwaren. And if Alistair was being completely honest with himself. the notion of marriage became less palatable each time his uncle opened his mouth.

_Ding……Ding…._

The long clock chimed twice in the room and Alistair knew it was time he met Theresa at the main gates of the palace. Hastily he finished dressing himself and hurried out the room, dashing down the corridor and into the mid-level of the palace. Passing several knights and smiling servants, Alistair decided to make up time by crossing though the library and out into the garden, where he could take a short cut to the main entrance.

Pushing the large doors of the library open, Alistair breathed in the musty smell of ram leather bound books and the stale sweetness of aged parchment, wrapped in a hint of tobacco, candlewax and dust. Perhaps it was a reminder of long days spent studying tomes in the chantry as a young templar, but there was something about the scent of a library that the king relished.

With large strides, Alistair paced over the red carpet of the library and came to a sudden stop as he saw Leliana sleeping on a daybed by the large windows.

An open book was slumped over her chest, and it appeared she had fallen asleep browsing the pages. Carefully Alistair treaded past her, only to notice her closed eyes flickered frantically and a frown covered her sleeping face. She appeared to be dreaming, and it was clearly not a pleasant one. Leliana cried out and without warning began to thrash her arms about, sending the book flying to the floor. Her whimpers sadly filled the quiet library as she struggled to wake up.

Alistair rushed forward, sitting on the daybed beside her.

‘Leliana…wake up.’ he encouraged softly. ‘Leliana. _Leliana_.’

Placing a gentle hand on her arm, Alistair stirred her gently.

‘You’re dreaming.’ he whispered ‘Wake up. It’s just a silly dream.’

Leliana’s green eyes blinked opened and she looked up fearfully to see Alistair before her.

‘Oh Alistair!’ she cried out, wrapping her arms around his neck as she held on for dear life. ‘I thought I was back there. It was so awful.’

Alistair froze for a moment as Leliana clutched to him and shivered in fright. He was unfamiliar with such vulnerability coming from such a strong woman that never had revealed her fears so openly. Yet ever since her return, Leliana’s exposed character had made Alistair look at her in a new light. Leliana was not the ruthless religious zealot he had believed her to be during their journeys together during the Blight. She was a person that had experienced terrible things and yet survived through the strength of her faith. She was the mother of Valahorn, a child he dearly loved as his own. In Alistair’s humble opinion, Leliana was an exceptional person.

‘Why are dreams such horrible things to bear?’ she whispered.

A pang of sadness struck his heart upon hearing the pain in her voice and all Alistair wanted to do was comfort her. Leliana wept into his neck as he tentatively brought his hands around her slender waist and pulled her close to his chest.

‘It’s okay, you’re alright now.’ reassured Alistair in a soft voice. ‘You know, I also used to have terrible dreams after the battle at Ostagar? Terrible terrible ones that felt so real.’

‘I know.’ murmured Leliana, her arms wrapped tight around his neck. ‘You used to yell about it in your sleep at camp each night. I’d often be awake by the fire and see you thrash about on your mat. Each time I’d have to pull the blanket from the dirt and drape it over you once more. Sometimes I sang softly and it always appeared to settle you.’

Alistair gently pulled back, looking at Leliana in surprise. ‘You did that for me?’

Leliana threw him a sad smile. ‘Who else was going to care for you out there?’

Alistair’s brown eyes drew to Leliana’s for a silent moment, holding her gaze that he could not break.

‘Thank you.’ he replied gently. His attention suddenly diverted to the books on the shelf beside them, keen to distract himself from the woman before him. ‘Well, um, you should rest a little more. Sleep is important.’

Humbled by Leliana’s confession, Alistair also felt ashamed. For all the dark displays Leliana presented to the world, Alistair knew he had been deceived. She had cared for him enough back then, despite him being nothing more than a stray Grey Warden.

Leliana’s compassion had been silent and done without the expectation of acknowledgement.

Rubbing her face, she stretched tiredly. ‘You’ll think me foolish but I’m scared to sleep. Ever since I returned all I’ve wanted is sleep but I’m so terrified to do it. Night time is the worst, I fear the shadows. So I wait until day and sleep in the light. But it hardly makes a different. I still fear that as soon as I shut my eyes I will be taken again.’

Her green eyes glistened, looking to Alistair briefly before turning away. Without hesitation, he placed a warm hand on hers.

‘What if I promise to stay here while you sleep? he proposed.

Leliana appeared embarrassed, a gentle flush causing her cheeks to tinge pink. ‘That could be hours, no? Alistair I’m sure you have things to do.’

‘Would you feel better if I was here with you?’ asked Alistair sincerely, his brown eyes drawing back intently on Leliana.

Hesitating for a moment, Leliana looked away before nodding her head. ‘Yes.’ she confessed quietly ‘It would make me feel a great deal better to know you were here with me.’

Alistair patted the daybed with an encouraging smile. ‘Then I insist. Rest back and sleep now. Leliana, I promise to stay here until you wake up.’. He waved his hand to the shelves as the woman began to protest. ‘Look at all the lovely books I have to read, don’t worry I won’t die of boredom.’. Alistair grinned, patting the velvet cushion of the daybed. ‘I might even start reading Swords and Shields?’

‘For guardsman Donnic?’ mused Leliana.

‘He sounds pretty.’ jested Alistair.

Leliana laughed, settling back onto the daybed. ‘Oh Alistair, you always know how to make me laugh.’

The king smiled at her. ‘That’s good to hear Leliana. Sleep now. Until you open your eyes I swear I won’t move an inch from your side.’

As her eyes drifted shut, the sound of Leliana’s heavy breath soon followed. It was clear she was exhausted.

Drawing a curious finger to his lip, Alistair beheld the woman before him. At that very moment he had just noticed how alluring a shade Leliana’s ginger her hair was, scattered across the pillow like wild grass in the fields of Redcliff. Her eyelashes were the same warm colour, long and elegant as they swept down from her almond shaped eyes. Cute freckles peppered her nose and cheeks, and her lips were a dusty rose colour, petite yet puckered. He was unable to pay attention to the many scars on her face, not when there was so much beauty before him.

The king turned and silently gestured to a servant in the room to come to him.

‘Your Majesty?’ bowed the servant.

‘Please find Theresa of Gwaren at the main gates of the palace and give her my deepest apologies.’ he whispered ‘Tell her I won’t be able to take her out to Liefnor today. An important matter has come up that I must attend to.’

With a swift bow the servant departed with the king’s message.

Turning back to the sleeping Leliana, Alistair decided not to draw a book from the library shelves. At that moment he didn’t desire a distraction.

_At that moment Alistair Theirin was perfectly distracted._


	140. Motives

_‘It will never be how it once was.’_

In the main hall of Skyhold, the open space filled with dining tables and wooden benches had now been replaced with a large gathering of concerned mages. Shoulder to shoulder, the people of Skyhold congregated to listen to the proposal being put forward. After three years of peace it was bitterly difficult for the men, women and children to hear that the templars would be returning to their keep.

Jowan and I presented at the head of the hall in front of the throne chair. Oversized and uncomfortable to sit it, it was a memento left over from the Inquisition. Varric lingered by the side of the throne, claiming his support in this matter was essential for the mages to see. I had a feeling he just wanted to be there to show Jowan and I that we had his support.

Casting his dark eyes across the sea of faces, Jowan addressed the crowd. He had just informed them of our plans to aid the templars in destroying Sapientes in the Nephilim Realm. Many appeared outraged at the news that the Templars were coming to Skyhold. Many appeared concerned that we would risk our lives in the Fade. And many appeared dismayed beyond belief that we would be interested in working with the Chantry.

‘I know this is hard to hear.’ acknowledged Jowan passionately ‘Believe me, I do. After the struggles we’ve gone through to get here. Becoming an independent mage guild of Thedas was no simple feat. Many of you may well ask; Why help the templars? Why aid the very people that imprisoned us once upon a time? They’ve done nothing to help us? So why should we now help them?’

Whispered voices filled the room and many mages nodded, as if agreeing with the questions.

‘Templars are the enemy!’ called out a mage from the middle of the hall. ‘You yourself have taught us to always be wary of the Order. Yet now you do their bidding? Why?’

‘Why indeed?’ echoed Jowan. ‘I will not stand here and deny that I have a deeply personal interest in this mission. Sapientes has an interest in my son and there is reason to believe Valahorn will be taken if we do not defeat this demon.’. Jowan gestured to the mages before him. ‘I would not ask any of you to risk your lives over my personal reasons. They are my own and I will fight Sapientes solely if need be’. His dark eyes lifted, piercing the crowd. ‘But there is a reason for you all to take part in this mission. Divine Elizabeth is the reason we must do this. She has openly declared her intention to return the mages back into the towers in the not too distant future. She is by far the greatest threat we mages face. Our only chance to stand our ground in later days is to aid in this request. Our only chance at preventing a war is to stay on the side of the Chantry.’

Cries of outrage and protest filled the room as the mages revealed their shock at the news.

‘They’ll never take us!’ declared an angry senior enchanter.

‘Just let them try putting us back in a fucking tower.’ screamed out another mage.

‘If they want a war let us give them one.’ called out another mage.

‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I warned the crowd. ‘Many lives have been lost in the senseless pursuit of waging war with the Templar Order. They are too powerful to contend with and their numbers are too great.’

‘Yeah thanks to your bloody ex-husband.’ yelled out another mage. ‘He increased the templar presence in Ferelden by tens of thousands.’

Amused by the comment, I held up my hand as Jowan prepared to chastise the mage.

‘You blame me for the actions of the King of Ferelden?’ I called out.

‘He hated mages more than ever after your divorce.’ retorted the mage.

‘Ignorant comments based on no knowledge of the facts serve nothing more than to make you look like a complete idiot.’ I replied dryly, causing a wave of laughter to sound from the mages. 'You try marrying Alistair Theirin and see how well you do with the templar situation.'

Jowan concealed a smile with his sleeve as he turned to me.

‘Can I use that line on the templars when they get here?’ he whispered.

Grinning at the man, I nodded. Turning back to the crowd before me, I knew the message needed to be knocked into their skulls.

‘The templar’s ideologies regarding magic are steadfast but their way of approaching mages has proven to be adaptable.’ I informed loudly. ‘The last three years have shown how flexible they’ve become.’

‘Master Jowan just said the Divine wants to put us back in the circles!’ protested another mage ‘That is not being flexible.’

Nodding at the observation, I knew it was a valid point. However it was imperative to shut down any talk of rebellion.

‘Divine Elizabeth seeks to do this, yes, but nothing is final.’ I replied. ‘This is our chance to sway her plans before it’s too late. Defeating Sapientes will be in our favour. But let me clear. The moment we even whisper the idea of war with the templars will be the moment we sign our own death warrants. Our guild is not a place to harbour rebellions. If I hear any of you discussing attacks on the templars you will be evicted from Skyhold. War is not the answer. War means certain death.’

‘So does wandering into the Fade.’ argued another mage.

‘Not with the magic I will teach.’ retorted Jowan. ‘Although nothing is certain in battle with a demon. You must all be aware of this. What we ask of you is a great risk to your lives and one that you must be prepared to make. No mage in this room will be forced into this mission. If you volunteer to aid us, I will choose a select few of you to teach the magic of the maleficarum arts that I know. Powerful magic. Forbidden magic. Dangerous magic. Blood magic.’

Whispers filled the hall as the mages murmured to each other.

‘That is evil magic, sir.’ protested an elderly mage, and several others acknowledged loudly in agreement.

Jowan flung an angry hand out to the man. ‘Why? Because the Templar Order brainwashed you into thinking so? A maleficar is just a mage that practices magic not condoned by the Chantry. Wild magic is practiced throughout Thedas despite what the Chantry dictates. Just because the Chantry claims it is corrupt magic doesn’t make it so. Are we apart of the Chantry? No. Their rules and beliefs do not apply to us. You are you own person and it is you that determines whether magic is put to good or ill intent.’

‘What of blood magic?!’ shouted another mage ‘Is not working with demonic magic the very essence of evil?’

Jowan threw me an exasperated look as he drew his hands to his brow. ‘It’s a grey area.’ he replied ‘Like any art, there are darker and lighter aspects to it. I’m not proposing to teach you all to make pacts with demons. Or whatever fear-mongering nonsense the templar order protests about the school of blood magic. When all is said and done, blood magic is very effective when fighting demons. The templars come here knowing that is what I intend to do. They come here desperate, and perhaps this shows how much power we do hold? Power that we can use to secure our guild in the future, away from the walls of the towers. If you aid us on this mission your boon will be the knowledge that I teach you, but it may also be your curse. For with great power comes great responsibility. If you do not treat this magic with respect it will unravel you in the most horrendous ways imaginable. I’ve seen mages lose their minds. I’ve seen much worse.’

Holding up a box, I presented it to the hall. ‘It is simple. If you wish to aid us on this mission into the Fade, write your name and place it in this box. You have until the end of this week to place your name in the box. Naturally this only applies to senior mages. All apprentices and children will be denied, so don’t even try.’. My eyes darted to a group of children lingering by the side door, their little faces eager for adventures.

‘If you do not wish to be involved, simply walk out of this hall and continue on how you were before.’ instructed Jowan ‘The choice is yours.’

‘As is our future.’ I warned.

Silently we waited as the mages began to disperse. Jowan sighed as many turned away from the box.

‘What chance do we have with this group when the majority have been raised under the teachings of the Chantry?’ he muttered. ‘They are fearful. Of the templars. And of me.’

‘Give them time.’ I whispered.

‘Screw this.’ sighed Varric, shoving past us and grabbing the box. ‘You want something done you gotta do it yourself.’

Perplexed at the comment, Jowan and I exchanged a concerned look.

‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

Varric chuckled, shaking his head at us. ‘Thank Andraste I’m here to save your mage arses. You guys made some great points just then, but you failed to rally the masses. Lift their morale. Ignite their hearts! Uncle Varric is off to clean up your mess. _Again_.’

‘How?’ frowned Jowan.

Tapping his nose, Varric grinned. ‘_The Cock and Bull._ Free booze, catchy tunes and inspiring stories about defeating Sapientes. Give me the night and I promise by tomorrow your little box will be filled to the brim.’

****

_‘Curse it!’_

Knight-Captain Arrus swore, bringing his bloodied finger to his mouth.

A crate of sundries had split and the templar had made the misfortune of running his hand along a sharp piece of glass when venturing to retrieve the items. It was one of the many crates that filled the courtyard of Caer Bronach that morning, ready to be taken up to Skyhold.

Cullen ran his eyes over the inventory on his clipboard, focused on the mammoth task before him.

‘Maker help us, this is a lot to cart up that damn mountain.’ he observed ‘Essential and yet painfully cumbersome. Making another bloody encampment for hundreds of people on top of the Frostback Mountains. Damn it, I’ve already gone through this once before.’

The Commander frowned, noticing the sullen nature of his Knight-Captain as he pulled several broken bottles carefully from the crate.

‘Arrus? Something vexes?’

Throwing the shards onto the ground, Arrus frowned. The man rubbed his short white hair in agitation, weighing up whether to speak his mind or not.

‘Yes Knight-Commander.’ he finally admitted ‘I feel betrayed’.

‘By a split box of goods?’ mused Cullen ‘Buck up, there’s more empty crates on the upper level.’

Arrus shook his head. ‘No, I feel betrayed by our Divine.’ he confessed lowly, almost fearful that he would be heard. ‘Her decision to allow these mages to corrupt our Order is beyond words. I lie awake at night and wonder how she could have agreed to this? I ask myself whether I should just hand in my resignation and leave?’

‘Don’t make life altering decisions based on emotion.’ warned the Knight-Commander.

Knight-Captain Arrus pulled another broken bottle from the crate and placed it delicately on the pile of glass. ‘I turned forty last week. Treated myself to an ale at The Merry Fox and toasted to the rich life I’ve lived. Not that I have any coin or family, but my life is rich for I’ve served a worthy cause since I became a templar at the age of fifteen. The Order means everything to me.’

Cullen threw him an understanding nod. He knew exactly what Arrus was saying.

‘Every templar in Caer Bronach is disgusted by this mission.’ continued Arrus ‘We are instructed to watch these mages do terrible magic and allow it? How can we allow it? That is not what the Templar Order stands for.’

Cullen sighed. ‘You’re right, it’s not.’ he muttered ‘Everything we are about to do goes against the very fabric of the Templar Order. But a direct order is an order, and this is what the Divine desires. For now. You’re a templar, you know where we take our orders.’

‘From the Chantry.’ replied Arrus bitterly.

‘Yes.’ nodded Cullen ‘And it’s not up to you or me or any templar here to place personal opinion on an order from the Divine. It’s not up to us to question it. No matter how repugnant it may be.’

Arrus understood what his Commander was implying. ‘Of course, Knight-Commander. I can see you are of the same opinion as I, but can hide it better. I shall endeavour to take a page out of your book. Forgive my outburst, it was unprofessional.’

‘We must band together and keep an ever-watchful eye on the mages.’ warned Cullen. ‘If they seek to open that door of chaos, we must be ready. The men and women here look up to their Knight-Captain. You must show them strength, even if you are disheartened. Go into Skyhold with a clear mind Arrus, your anger will only cloud your judgement.’

‘You’ve worked with these mages before?’ inquired Arrus curiously. ‘Can they be trusted?’

Cullen sighed heavily at the question, knowing it was not an easy one to answer. ‘My days with the mages were a long time ago, I cannot speak on their behalf. Nor would I want to? As a templar, my guard is always up around magic. Nothing can put my mind at ease.’

‘What of Mistress Trevelyan and Master MacLothlorean?’ pressed Arrus.

Placing his inventory down on the table, Cullen turned to give his full attention to his Knight-Captain. ‘Jowan was one of my charges at the Kinloch Hold, once upon a time.’ he informed ‘He fled the tower using blood magic. Let us say that was the beginning of his fruitful career as a maleficar.’

Arrus silently shook his head in disgust. ‘The Order failed bringing him to justice and now we seek to learn his foul practices? What of the woman? Trevelyan?’

The Commander shrugged. ‘Unlike Jowan, Mistress Trevelyan is not a maleficar. She has taken a liking to Jowan and perhaps grown closer to the man over the years than a royal consort should. Apart from that, I’d wager she’s harmless. I worked close with her during the Inquisition, being an adviser on the war council myself.’

‘She’s motivated by power then?’ asked Arrus.

Cullen scoffed at the comment. ‘Perhaps her title was Inquisitor but she was never_ in charge_. I wouldn’t worry about her rallying the mages up in Skyhold, if that’s what you’re getting at?’

‘I heard she left the Inquisition before the battle with Corypheus?’ frowned Arrus. ‘Is she a deserter?’

‘Let’s just say by the end of the Inquisition she found another position to fill.’ replied Cullen casually, as if he wasn’t in the slightest bit interested. ‘Her interest in the mages was the last thing on her mind. She went off to pursue love with the King of Ferelden. A seemingly more promising role than that of a mere mage. I suspect her only reason for being back in Skyhold now is a result of a rather messy divorce?’

Arrus laughed, turning to seal another crate. ‘Women and their foolish pursuits of love. Yes, she sounds the frivolous type. Glad to hear she’s not malicious like the other one.’

‘She’s not malicious.’ affirmed Cullen. ‘Mind you, you may find Jowan is not as malicious as you believe him to be. I won’t discount either of their exceptional work during the Inquisition. Jowan and Ophelia brought down Corypheus with the aid of the mages. That is something you must take into consideration when questioning their motives. But when all’s said and done, I’ve not a clue what Jowan and Ophelia are up to these days? Our meeting with them the other week was the first time I’d seen either one in over three years. One can only hope they have used their talent to good use, and not the other way round?’

‘Magic used for good or evil, it matters little to us. It still must be constantly monitored.’ muttered Arrus ‘We cannot take their word on face value.’

‘True.’ agreed Cullen ‘I can’t say it’s been easy to loosen the rope with the mages but they’ve given us no cause for concern. Not until now.’

‘Maleficars the lot of them.’ scorned Arrus ‘That is why we cannot trust them. They concealed such practices right under our very eyes.’

Cullen shook his head. ‘No, I believe there is only one man in Skyhold who is a maleficar and you were unfortunate to experience his fury the other day.’

‘He will be watched very closely while I am in Skyhold.’ declared Arrus ‘I do not like MacLothlorean. Not one bit.’

The Commander raised a brow at the templar. ‘You’d do well to choose your words wisely around him. There will be no mention of hatred towards his child, or any other mage child in Skyhold. That is something I will not tolerate.’

‘I do not hate children Knight-Commander.’ denied Arrus vehemently ‘I only suggested the problem was Valahorn.’. The templar looked down to ground, embarrassed by his behaviour. ‘I meant no disrespect. I know what I suggested was wrong. I will be cautious of what I say in the future.’

‘Very good.’ acknowledged Cullen.

Knocking his fist on the crate, Cullen returned to his clipboard, eager to continue his work.

‘We waste time, let us continue.’ he encouraged. ‘There is much to be packed and Maker knows how we’ll cart it all up to Skyhold? But let’s not get bogged down in mage issues just yet, eh? We’ve got that pleasure waiting for us when we reach the top of the mountain.’


	141. Behind Closed Doors

At dawn the melodic low hum of blowing horns echoed across the mountains, announcing the templars arrival. Peering over my balcony I could see an army of templars marching up Gherlen’s Path as the sun rose across the cold peaks. They chanted in unison, roaring into the morning fog as the templars marched heavily up the trail.

With a deep breath, I braced myself. It wouldn’t be long before they’d arrive at the keep and everything would be different. I hoped this was the right decision. _That was all I could do right now._

After breakfast I proceeded to the War Room and began working on the proposed work schedule we would submit to the templars on arrival. Hours passed and I was finding myself growing more and more impatient at the task at hand. My eyes kept on looking at the door, hoping I would be soon distracted by a guest I suspected would arrive at some point or another.

Afternoon arrived and finally there was a knock at my door.

_Tap, tap, tap._

‘Come in.’ I called out, grinning with anticipation.

The door opened, and in stepped a Knight-Commander that I knew all too well. In templar armour splattered with fresh mud and wet grass, he clearly had just come off his horse.

‘Mistress Trevelyan, it is a pleasure to see you again.’ he acknowledged formally. ‘May I come in for one moment?’

‘Knight-Commander Cullen, yes come in.’ I replied politely, realising there could be people outside listening. ‘I hope your journey here went well?’

The Commander looked tired, but happy as he closed the door behind him and approached me with a smirk, knowing we were finally alone.

‘Your warm welcome of the templars into Skyhold went above and beyond.’ observed Cullen sarcastically. He crossed his arms as he stared at me sternly, although the curl on his lip suggested he was amused more than anything. ‘No personal greeting at the gates? No friendly gesture as representative of the Mage Order? Even Jowan managed to show up to scowl at the templars.’

Scoffing at the jibe, I was well aware that Cullen and I should keep a distance in front of the templars wherever possible. Perhaps it appeared cold, but I wished to show all around us that I was not eager to welcome the man into my keep. 

‘You want me to do this in front of your templars?’ I teased, clasping the Commander’s cheeks affectionately as I placed a kiss on his lips.

Cullen’s warm mouth welcomed mine and finally his wide smile broke the kiss as the man wrapped his strong arms around my waist and drew me into a hug.

‘I’d have you do more than that.’ replied Cullen wickedly.

‘You see, this is the reason I didn’t greet you.’ I laughed ‘Besides, I woke up to your horns blaring over the peaks. Took you several more hours to actually arrive at the keep. The slowest arrival on record.’

‘Maker don’t start me on that.’. Rubbing his shoulder achingly, Cullen eased into one of the Orlesian chairs by the fire. ‘Three days that blasted journey took. _Three days from Lake Calenhad to Skyhold_. Maker help me, I could have sworn we were riding snails up the mountain.’

‘And you’re setting camp up by Three Archers River?’ I asked hesitantly.

Cullen laughed, turning to me with narrowed eyes. ‘Didn’t care to mention we’d be sharing the plot with a bunch of drunk Nevarrans? We rode into an encampment filled with soused nobles and several monks asking us for our entry tickets.’

‘Varric is running another of those irritating Magi Monk Mead tours.’ I muttered ‘He swore they’d be gone after a week. Well, that was nearly a month ago and several more groups have come and gone. I guess the moral of the story is never trust a word Varric says.’

‘And you’re only realising this now?’ mused Cullen. ‘It’s fine, my templars have ample room by the river. It’s mostly barracks tents. We intend to train here in the keep.’

‘Of course you do.’ I muttered.

‘Cassandra wants us working and training together.’ reminded Cullen. He pointed a stern finger at me. ‘That means promoting unity in Skyhold. On my end with the templars I am strongly advising civility at all times. Are you encouraging your mages to do the same?’

Groaning, I joined him by the fire. ‘Yes, you do realise I'm quite capable of promoting peace? I’m not one of your idiot recruits.’

Cullen raised an amused brow. ‘You’re right, a recruit speaking to me like that would get ten lashes. I’m happy to oblige?’. He teased his thumb across his bottom lip as he smiled at me. ‘Why else would I be up here?’

‘To obey me Cullen.’ I teased ‘At all times.’

The Commander laughed. ‘Oh, I would very much enjoy satisfying your every desire.’

‘Good, after you’re done here you can go wash up the alchemy benches.’ I quipped.

Rubbing his jaw, he threw me a sultry pair of amber eyes. ‘_I’d love to wash your alchemy benches.’_

‘How is it that you can make everything sound filthy?’ I laughed.

The templar shrugged, a pleased smile on his mischievous face. A sudden thought changed his demeanour, and he gestured his hand in annoyance to the direction of the west tower of the keep.

‘So, Jowan has taken up residence in my study?’ he observed in displeasure. ‘I stepped into an emporium dripping with antiquities, expensive looking drapes and a large collection of dusty texts. Took me several minutes to realise I wasn’t in some Magister’s manor.’

Laughing at the observation, I turned back to my desk and proceeded shuffling through some documents I had been putting off for weeks.

‘Yes, that’s Jowan’s lodgings. He’s packed that place with so much you could open it up as an antique store. You know he collects ship’s decanters? I’ve told him no one is going to want to court a grown man that spends his time collecting lead crystal bottles.’

Cullen appeared unimpressed. ‘I enjoyed working in that study.’

‘What?’ I scoffed ‘Were you expecting us to preserve the room in your honour? Keep it as you left it? Hold a candle vigil in there to honour Commander Cullen’s service in the Inquisition? Erect a statue of you in the courtyard?’

The templar chuckled. ‘Yes, I expected that and more.’. He narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Mage glibness. How I missed it.’

‘You’ve left Skyhold, it’s time to move on from thinking that space is your study. You can take the workspace that Solas used to reside in?’

Cullen clearly disliked the suggestion. ‘You wish to shove the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order at the bottom of a staircase? Like an old broom?’. He ran his eyes around the study, nodding in satisfaction. ‘How about giving me this room? Let me set up in here.’

Questioning the man’s sanity, I looked around the room in bewilderment. ‘Well as you can see this is my study. And Jowan’s. I think there’s some room at the top of the tower?’

Clutching his head, the templar pretended to be in pain. ‘Feathers and bird excrement sticking to my documents? No rookery.’

‘No, I meant the old mage tower.’ I laughed ‘You know, the one on the far east corner of the keep?’

Cullen crossed his arms. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘It’s vacant. And provides three floors to put you and Arrus or whoever else you want in there. I’m not joking when I say every inch of this keep is filled to the brim with mages. We can’t put you anywhere else because there’s just no room.’

The Commander sighed. ‘Fine, mage tower it is. The iron fist has made her decision.’. He looked up suspiciously as me. ‘Why is every part of the keep full up aside from the tower?’

Turning swiftly, I pretended to be interested in some papers on the table. ‘No reason.’

‘Ophelia.’ growled Cullen, a hint of a laugh coming through. ‘Tell me what’s wrong with the tower?’

‘What? It’s a lovely tower. Full of charm.’ I replied casually ‘And perhaps it smells strongly of sulphur? Well, perhaps an unwitting initiate spilled several bottles of sulphur on the ground and it soaked into the wood and maybe we’ve never been able to successfully rid the place of the foul odour. Perhaps we sealed it up and have left it abandoned because no one can stand being in there for more than a few minutes and not resist the urge to hurl their insides. It’s not an entire waste. We grow mushrooms in there. For potion making.’

‘_No_.’

Lifting my hands in defence, I grinned as Cullen pinned me gently to the wall.

‘What?' I protested 'It’s a lovely tower. Full of charm.’

The templar bought his mouth to my neck and teased it with his breath. ‘Give me Cassandra’s old room.’ he ordered, placing a light kiss on my collarbone. His soft lips tickled my skin as he placed another feather light kiss on my neck, and then up to my mouth where he teased me by withholding his lips from mine.

‘You’re not playing fair.’ I warned.

‘Who said I ever did?’ whispered Cullen.

His lips fell hard on mine and kissed hungrily.

‘You wouldn’t deny me a place to sleep?’ he purred, cupping my face gently, albeit firmly. His strength was evident as he held me secure, enjoying the control he had over me in such a vulnerable position. ‘I don’t like being denied the simple pleasures in life.’

‘You know where I’d have you sleep.’ I sighed, knowing it was not an option.

‘In a gibbeting cage hanging off a pole at the crossroads?’ teased Cullen.

‘You in a cage?’ I grinned ‘Now that’s an option.’

The Commander scoffed. ‘It’s the same fate as being shoved into one of those guest quarters near the lower gardens.’

Unable to resist, I decided to taunt him. ‘I thought you said your templars were setting up barracks tents by the river? Just sleep there. A nice cot in an icy tent sounds wonderful.’

He growled, wrapping his arms around me. ‘Maker curse it. I want to be back in our bed. Sleeping on a feather mattress with a glorious view before me.’

‘The mountains are beautiful this time of year.’ I teased.

The Commander shook his head seriously. ‘You know I meant you.’

The templar lifted his hands up with a groan and stepped away in several slow paces.

‘We must be careful here. More than careful. With so many templars around now is not the time to entertain our desires. Although Maker help me, I relish the temptation before me.’. His amber eyes looked to me seriously. ‘Our secrecy is imperative. I will sleep in a tent if that is all there is. And when we are in public you must forgive my lack of interest in you. I will be diligent that everyone around me sees us as indifferent colleagues and nothing more. Even more so, considering our past.’

‘Fine.’ I conceded ‘We hold classes in Cassandra’s old study but I’ll have the place cleared out. You can have the room adjacent to The Herald’s Rest. I’ll get a bed moved into the loft so you don’t have to rough it in a tent.’

‘Most obliged.’ nodded Cullen with a smirk.

The Commander began to leave the room and I watched on restlessly.

‘So, is this it now?’ I called out uncertainly. ‘Us pretending to hate each other and never meeting up in-between? We might as well become real enemies, it’s probably more satisfying?’

The templar raised a finger to his lips, encouraging me to stop talking.

‘Trust me.’ he replied in a hushed voice ‘I’ll find a way for us to be together.’

With a playful wink, the Knight-Commander departed the room.

****

The duties of a king were fraught with long hours of work, large amounts of stress and potential danger from spies from abroad and within his very realm. Alistair knew this was his life now and accepted it with grace and humility. Yet he was determined not to lose every pleasure to his role as king. Each afternoon for a few hours he had always made time in his busy schedule to pursue his own interests. Sometimes the Ferelden king rode out to the forests of the Bannorn with a hunting party to find some sport. Other times he rode alongside his pack of mabari hounds and let them explore the golden fields of wheat. The northern part of the Brecilian Forest held many beautiful rivers that he and his uncle Teagan enjoyed fishing in. He’d even ventured to the coast in the summer months and swam in the crystal blue waters of the Amaranthine Ocean.

This ritual was now put to a different task, and while it meant Alistair did not enjoy hunting sport or riding through the forest, it was not wholly unpleasant. Every afternoon was now dedicated to reading in the guest chambers of the east wing of Denerim palace while Leliana slept. Alistair knew his presence in the library that first afternoon she had slept had significantly eased her mind. Leliana awoke refreshed and her demeanour was instantly calmer.

While the pair joked at the ridiculous nature of the set up, it appeared to have worked. Over the weeks Leliana had begun to get more sleep and transformed into an almost different person from the one that arrived at the palace. She found more reason to smile and laugh, and less reason to move fearfully about the palace during her waking hours. Alistair wanted to be there for Leliana, and he was well aware that his presence was making her feel safe once more. Her insistence that she was a burden was refuted each time with his protests. And so the pair came to the agreement that each day would play out the same.

At three o’clock each afternoon Alistair grabbed a book and arrived at Leliana’s chambers. While she slept he would read for a few hours, and soon the ritual of leafing through a book gave him a great joy that had nothing to do with reading.

That particular afternoon Alistair had been very tired. A late meeting in the Landsmeet Chamber had been held the previous night and the king was finding it hard to keep his eyes open as he heard the heavy breathing of Leliana. He rubbed his bleary eyes, but couldn’t help drifting off in the uncomfortable wooden seat before jolting awake in a desperate attempt to remain awake. Finally he succumbed to quickly taking a nap on the other side of the large bed where Leliana slept, if only to rest his tired eyes. Before the king’s head had barely touched the pillow, Alistair drifted off into a deep sleep.

_The peaceful hours passed by….._

Leliana’s green eyes blinked open and dreamily she rolled over with a stretch to see a snoring Ferelden king beside her. Biting her lip with a grin, Leliana watched as Alistair slept.

His face was so peaceful as he hugged a fat feather pillow, his strong arms wrapped around the material as if he were embracing it.

‘Alistair.’ she whispered.

The man’s eyelids fluttered but stayed closed.

‘Alistair.’ she whispered again.

‘Mmmmghph…yes….liberate the serfs and tax them with cheese.’ he mumbled, clearly still in a dream.

Leliana laughed, grabbing his arm gently and rolling into it. ‘Wake up. Time to wake up.’

His brown eyes blinked open and turned to Leliana. Alistair broke into a sleepy yawn as he rubbed his face.

‘Oh, did I fall asleep?’

‘Yes.’ grinned Leliana ‘Some greater watcher you’ve become?’

The king smiled, rolling onto his side as his head remained comfortably on the pillow. ‘This looks bad? Me promising to watch over you while you sleep, and then ending up in your bed.’

‘Oh and you look so torn up about it!’ teased Leliana, throwing a pillow at his chest.

‘Ouch!’ cried out Alistair playfully ‘I could have you arrested for that. Put you in the stocks? Exile?’

Leliana bit her lip and raised the pillow higher above her head.

‘If you throw that pillow at me I’ll call the guards.’ warned Alistair mischievously. ‘Scrap that, I’ll get my entire Ferelden army, including my knights. This is the beginning of a war.’

‘Just you try.’ she threatened with a grin.

Alistair pointed a finger at her with a laugh. ‘Leliana I’m being serious. Don’t do it. If you do I’ll-‘

_Thwack_!

The pillow landed flat against his face.

Squealing in delight, Leliana ducked away from Alistair as he sat up with the pillow in his hand, scrambling to get her. He hurled the pillow but she darted to the side and avoided being thumped.

Sweeping her long ginger hair back, the woman giggled. ‘Alistair you’re never going to win a war with me.’

‘You underestimate me, Leliana.’ mused Alistair.

Brown hair messily scattered from a long sleep and his white shirt crinkled, Alistair looked handsomely dishevelled as knelt in the middle of the bed, reaching for a final pillow resting against the headboard. 

Leliana moved fast and stole it before the king had a chance.

‘Hey no fair.’ pouted Alistair.

‘I’m sorry.’ apologised Leliana, sitting back on the bed. She dropped the pillow on the ground. Extending a hand, she threw Alistair an apologetic look. ‘Forgive me?’ she teased ‘I’m so terribly sorry. Let’s call it a truce.’

‘Fine.’ grinned Alistair, extending his hand to shake hers.

Leliana lunged forward and grabbed the sides of his waist, squeezing them as she tickled the man. Alistair roared in laughter, falling back onto the bed.

‘_No, no, no, no, no_!’ he cried out in agony, laughing hysterically as Leliana refused to relent. ‘I’m ticklish!!!! I’ll do anything. _Arrrrggghhh!_ Please Leliana, anything. Anything at all!!!’’

‘Give up cheese forever.’ demanded Leliana.

‘Never!’ cried out Alistair, drowning in laughter as Leliana tickled him again.

He thrashed about, desperately trying to escape her hands and she laughed at his struggles, jumping on top of him to keep him pinned in place. Straddling his waist, the woman held his shoulders firmly.

‘Well I have you now.’ she teased ‘Give up the cheese or I’ll tickle you forever.’

‘Is this any way to treat the King of Ferelden?’ protested Alistair, squirming at her threats. ‘I’m pretty sure there’s a rule that says you can’t hold down the king and torment him with wiggly fingers.’

Leliana laughed, her flighty voice sounding lighter and happier than it had in a long time.

‘Oh, I enjoy tormenting people with my wiggly fingers.’ she teased. ‘Especially kings.’

Alistair flashed her an amused smile. ‘I’m actually terrified. No really, I am. I can’t move here and you have a dangerous grin on your face that says I’m going to be in a lot of trouble.’

Her lip curled as she smiled at him mischievously. ‘Do I?’

As she held Alistair down by the shoulders, the pair suddenly grew quiet. Leliana’s chest rose and lowered in deep breaths as her gaze fell down to his. Alistair was pinned on the bed with Leliana on top of him in a rather suggestive position, and the pair had just realised it. Alistair ceased to struggle under the light pressure of her hands against his shoulders holding him down. In fact neither of them moved an inch as they drew into each other’s eyes.

Lifting his head up, Alistair met Leliana’s lips _and kissed her._

To his relief, Leliana’s mouth readily welcomed Alistair’s lips with affection. And then desire. One gentle kiss led to another and soon their tongues were eagerly exploring each other as the embrace ignited a passion within them. Soft murmurs of pleasure escaped Alistair’s mouth as he felt Leliana’s mouth crush against his, and she in turn moaned as Alistair returned the kiss in equal vigorous enthusiasm. Releasing his shoulders, she gently cupped his strong jaw with one hand while running the other hand down his broad neck. The sensation of her touch teasing along his neck excited him. It was extremely sensual. Erotic. Breathlessly she welcomed his hungry mouth lifting to hers, their kisses becoming more and more frantic as they both succumbed to their hidden desires.

It was Alistair who finally pulled back, but only because of the uncomfortable position he was in, lying on the bed with his neck stretching up to kiss the woman who was straddling his waist.

Leliana appeared surprised as her eyes remained fixated on an equally surprised Alistair.

Both parties were stunned at what had just occurred.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-’ Leliana apologised, quickly jumping off Alistair’s lap.

Alistair edged over and retreated from the bed hastily. ‘No I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been-‘

‘No, it was-'

‘-it was...uhhh’. His face flushed; the king ran a nervous hand through his brown hair. ‘Umm. Sorry about that.’

‘No, don’t be.’ replied Leliana quickly.

‘Okay.’ answered Alistair hastily.

His attention drew to her. Leliana was beautiful. Her delicate femininity aroused him, from her fiery hair to her emerald eyes, and pale skin contrasted by the deep red flush in her freshly kissed lips. Alistair was unable to string a sentence as his mind thought on how desperately he wanted her back on the bed with him.

‘I should give you some privacy.’ apologised Alistair. He paused, looking to Leliana ardently. ‘This wasn't intentional. I’m so very sorry.’

Leliana drew a shaky hand through her ginger tresses, biting her lip as she watched Alistair fumble for the door and quickly escape the room.


	142. Mr. and Mrs. Perfect

The templars arrival at Skyhold heralded another timely arrival of guests a few days later, and Jowan was quick to draw me from my study in order to accompany him to the welcoming. By the apologetic look on his face, I knew who it was we were to greet before he even had the chance to inform me.

Out through the main doors of the hall, we met with Varric who was peering down the stairs to a carriage arriving through the gates. The carriage was Orlesian in style, and even though the velvet curtains were drawn we were all aware of who sat behind them.

‘You can’t avoid him forever kid. And you gotta work with the escargot while he’s here.’ explained Varric. ‘Riddles and I thought a formal welcome now would be better that you skirting the battlements for the next several months just to avoid the guy. Get it over and done with and clear the air a bit.’

Glaring at Jowan and Varric, I shook my head at them with reproach. ‘He’s a fool. I have nothing more to say to him, let alone greet him into Skyhold like some idiot.’

‘A simple hello will suffice.’ reassured Jowan. ‘None of us here are too fond of the Maister of Blades. We’re just trying to get along.’

My eyes wandered down to the courtyard where I could see Cullen pacing across the stone, making his way to the entrance of the carriage. Clearly the templar also wished to make a better impression.

Elegant coachmen placed a small set of stairs at the door of the carriage and open the door with a bow. Michel finally emerged, his curious blue eyes running across the courtyard. The man was dressed as a typical lord, with black tailored pants and shiny boots, paired with a white frilled shirt, pale blue waistcoat and matching tailcoat. Elegantly he stepped onto the courtyard of Skyhold and held out a polite hand, helping a lady exit the carriage from behind him. A woman in a pale blue dress with long sleeves and a white fur wrapped around her shoulders departed the carriage. Her blonde hair had been styled in large curls and pinned up in an elegant Orlesian style, and two pearl earrings dangled from her ears – matching the large string of white pearls wrapped around her graceful neck.

Cullen approached the carriage with a smile, shaking the chevalier’s hand. ‘Michel, it’s good to see you again. Glad to see you made it on schedule.’

The chevalier nodded politely in acknowledgement. He ran an amused pair of eyes around the courtyard. ‘It’s strange? The place feels the same as I left it all those years back.’. He pointed to the climbing ivy up the wall. ‘Look, even the Hedera remains lush and evergreen as it once was.’

The templar nodded. ‘Yes, I felt the exact same way when I rode in a few days back. About Skyhold in general that is, not about that weed over there. Not sure what to make of that?’

Michel rolled his eyes and Cullen chuckled.

‘Knight-Commander Cullen Rutherford, may I introduce you to my wife; Lady Rose de Chevin.’ informed Michel, turning to his wife with a warm smile. ‘She has most kindly agreed to accompany me here.’

Cullen clasped the Orlesian lady’s hand politely. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Lady Rose.’

The woman looked with intrigue at the templar, as if there was something about the Order that fascinated her.

‘Knight-Commander, please just call me Rose.’ she informed sweetly. ‘There should be no formalities amongst Michel and his dear friends.’

Cullen raised his brows at Michel, amused that the chevalier’s wife was under the pretense they were dear friends. The chevalier shrugged. It was obvious Michel had not relayed the full history of their time together in previous years.

‘Well in that case, please just call me Cullen.’ replied the Commander warmly.

‘But you may call me Ser Michel de Chevin.’ quipped Michel playfully.

Cullen appeared amused. ‘Well that’s not going to happen. Unless you wish to call me Ser Cullen?’

The Orlesian couple laughed, entertained by the Commander’s banter. The trio began discussing Skyhold, and were completely unaware that Jowan, Varric and I were standing on the platform above. We could hear their conversation quite clearly and began to feel like lurkers.

‘Hurry up already.’ muttered Jowan impatiently, peering down at the party. ‘I’ve got potions that need to be boiled two turns within the next hour or the batch will be ruined.’

Uncomfortably I shifted my attention to examine Michel’s wife. This was the woman that he had fallen in love with and chosen to marry. She was stunning. From her large jewelled eyes to the elegance of her countenance and apparent choice of clothing that screamed copious amounts of coin. From her long blond hair so perfectly styled, to her flawless porcelain complexion. Every part of her presented so beautifully. She held an encouragable smile and kindness seemed to radiate from her, although it was apparent her judgement was reserved and she acted courteous for appearances. 

‘Lady Rose de Chevin.’ remarked Varric with a whistle. ‘And just when we all thought Goldilocks couldn’t get luckier in life he pulls out that card from the deck. Her family is high up, even for Orlesian nobility. They gotta whole lotta clink.’

My brow subconsciously frowned at the observation and Varric was quick to notice.

‘Whaddya reckon Sparrow?’ he asked with a teasing grin, fully aware it was a loaded question.

My ego urged me to reply casually and dismiss the question with wit. But something gnawed away at me as I looked down at this perfect woman. Eyes turning sharply to the rogue, I pursed my lips at him in annoyance.

‘Go on then, say it.’ I threatened, crossing my arms defensively. ‘_Say it and be done.’_

‘Say what?’ asked Varric with feigned innocence.

‘Tell me Varric, who would be the opposite of that woman there?’ I pressed ‘The very opposite of Michel’s perfect wife?’

Varric chuckled, realising what I was implying. He lifted his deft fingers and began to list the qualities. ‘I dunno Sparrow, the opposite of that breath of fresh air over there? Well she’d wouldn’t be Orlesian for one. Let’s say she’d be from some dive. How about the Free Marches eh? That place is swampy and shit as they come.’. He ran his eyes up and down me with a smirk. ‘She’d have dark brown hair, and it’d be messy as a mabari’s den. The girl wouldn’t be as white as snow with cherry lips like that one over there. Some folks dig that, but I reckon this girl would have a natural beauty that she never fully realised she had _because she’s got no fucking clue and it drives everyone around her insane!!!’_

Jowan laughed to himself, appearing to agree with the dwarf.

‘What I meant to say is, she’d present casually.’ continued Varric mischievously. ‘No powdered arsenic face and charcoal eyes, yeah? She’d be batshit poor, and probably lacking a hell of a lot of style in comparison to what the ritzy crowd likes. She’d have her share of shady stories from her past and be a little rough around the edges? You know, like being a thief in Kirkwall or something like that. And the main thing, the most important. that woman would be a mage.’

‘The proof is in the pudding.’ I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. Throwing a smile at the dwarf, I nodded in thanks. ‘The rogue with the poetic heart says I’m unstylish yet beautiful?’

‘Sparrow, you shouldn’t even have to ask.’ replied Varric, shaking his head. ‘So some tramp with curls and coin marries the chevalier? Doesn’t make you a hideous swamp beast in comparison.’

Jowan tapped his lip in contemplation. ‘Varric, who do you think the opposite of Michel de Chevin would be?’

With a look of disbelief, Varric eyed the mage up and down. ‘Well I’m sure as shit staring at him now!’

The mage laughed, nodding in agreement. ‘Yes, I thought as much.’

‘But your heart is more valiant.’ I teased.

Jowan playfully scrunched his nose at me in reply. ‘And I look better in plate armour.’

Rolling my eyes, I turned to the dwarf beside us. ‘Well at least you see my point?’

Varric chuckled. ‘Sorry Sparrow, kinda lost me on that one. All you’ve observed is that wifey over there ain’t you. And don’t get me started on how messed up that comes across.’

‘Yes, why do you even care?’ asked Jowan bluntly. The mage nudged his head to the chattering Orlesian in the distance. ‘It’s Michel de Chevin. He spouts verbal diarrhoea and wears ugly blue clothing like it’s going out of fashion. The fool acts as he pleases, which is always laced with excessive smiling and references to shrubbery and annoying wild life. There’s no meaning to any of it.’

‘I don’t care.’ I replied in annoyance ‘It was just an observation.’

‘Don’t let him get under your skin.’ warned Jowan ‘You’ve enough to deal with already.’

‘Riddles is right.’ agreed Varric ‘The templars are gonna give you a run for your money.’

Jowan’s raised a brow to me, implying that was partly what he meant. He was of course referring to Cullen.

‘Shh, they’re coming up.’ warned Jowan ‘As Vivienne used to say - happy faces people.’

‘Heck Riddles, the Iron Lady just used to tell me to shut the hell up.’ chuckled Varric.

With a skip in his step, Varric moved forward and shook Michel’s hand as the chevalier ascended the main platform to where we stood waiting.

‘Varric!’ remarked Michel in surprise, shaking the dwarf’s hand with delight. ‘It is wonderful to see you again!’

‘Goldilocks and Rosey!’ greeted Varric. ‘Look at you kids! Mr. and Mrs. Perfect. You know I’m still stuffed from eating thirty-seven profiteroles from that mountain of a croquembouche you guys had going at your nuptials. What a wedding cake!’

‘You ate thirty-seven?’ laughed Michel ‘Truly?’

Rubbing his guts as if it still ached, Varric nodded with a grimace. ‘Yeah you Orlesians always get me with the pastries. Some bastard waiter kept on offering me them. And I kept on takin’ them. Never say no to a profiterole. That’s what we say in Kirkwall.’

Frowning, I recalled never hearing that phrase uttered in Kirkwall. Most likely Varric was spinning bullshit again.

The Orlesian beamed at the rogue, clearly genuinely happy to see him again. ‘Why are you in Skyhold? Business?’

‘Well shit Goldilocks, it ain’t pleasure!’ chuckled Varric, nudging his head to the templars and mages in the courtyard below. ‘Templars and mages eh? Can’t seem to escape 'em.’

Michel smiled politely but kept quiet, perhaps noticing two mages were standing behind Varric. Jowan stirred beside me, and out of obligation as a host of Skyhold stepped forward to greet the party.

‘Welcome to Skyhold!’ greeted Jowan, approaching Michel and Rose with a hospitable smile. ‘You’ve arrived on the rare occasion where we’re having a spot of good weather. All blue skies and not a frostbitten hand in sight. It never lasts, hope you brought your mittens! I trust the journey from Orlais was uneventful?’

Grinning at the mage, I loved it when Jowan was trying to put on good appearances. The misanthropic man I had grown to love transformed into a social butterfly that sounded very similar to Athalwolf Guildersleeve.

‘Jowan!’. The chevalier grasped the mage’s hand with a wide smile. ‘Ah yes, how could one forget the chilly climate that Skyhold brings?’. Michel’s eyes darted to me for a split second before continuing on. ‘The journey here was wonderful. Carriage rides are such a pleasant way of traveling, wouldn’t you say? One forgets the small pleasure of admiring the countryside from a moving window. After horse riding so much over the autumn and winter, I was very happy to welcome our leisurely travel up the mont blanc.’. Michel gestured to his wife with a polite hand. ‘This is Lady Rose de Chevin. She has agreed to accompany me during my stay here. Rose, these are the leaders of the mage order. Ophelia Trevelyan and Jowan MacLothlorean.’

‘Senior Enchanters.’ I corrected, throwing a smile at the pair. ‘We prefer not to be referred to as leaders, it promotes the idea that we’re higher up than our comrades, which is certainly not the case. Our mages already suffer the injustice of inequality in everyday life. Why add a hierarchy to further put them down?’. My eyes darted to the chevalier’s for a moment. ‘Also it tends to conjure up wild images of apostate groups led by rebel mages, rather than the humble arcane profession that we actually represent.’

‘Humble _and pious._’ chimed in Varric with a grin.

‘Or just three sheets to the wind.’ murmured Jowan. 

Throwing a polite smile to Rose, I added pleasantly ‘We’re just arcane teachers at the end of the day. Nothing quite so fanciful as the stories made up on our behalf.’

‘Well, yes Ophelia has a point.’ mused Jowan. ‘Did you know I once bumped into a man in Jader who claimed I was _The Warlock of the Frostback Mountains_. Just because I happened to mention I trained the mages at Skyhold. Apparently I cooked toads in pots and was responsible for the fires in the Emerald Greaves last summer. He said I rode a giant crow and stole children from their beds. It was rather offensive. _I hate toads._’

Turning to Jowan we exchanged a bemused guffaw.

‘Someone in Redcliff threw a witch poppet at me once and called me a Scobberlotcher.’ I added ‘Apparently teaching in a mage guild doesn’t win you many friends? Well that’s not entirely true, I have one warlock friend?’

‘If I’m a warlock, you’re definitely a Scobberlotcher.’ teased Jowan.

Shaking my head in amusement, I turned back to the quiet Orlesian couple before us. ‘Forgive my rambling. I’m Ophelia Trevelyan. A pleasure to meet you Rose.’. Extending a hand, I shook the woman’s amicably yet failed to do the same for Michel as he stood there stiffly. ‘The Mage Order of Southern Thedas welcomes you and Michel to Skyhold. Feel free to explore the place. We’ve a fine library on the second level of the inner keep. Herb gardens in the lower courtyard and a lovely gazebo to rest in. Oh, and two taverns, if you ever find yourself in need of some respite?’

Varric appeared mortified at my suggestion. ‘You’ll have to excuse Sparrow here for talking total tripe. There’s only one real tavern worthy of patronising and it’s _The Cock and Bull._ You kids are gonna love what I’ve done to the place.’

‘Yes, it’s full of mages dressed as monks. If that’s the sort of thing you’re into?’ muttered Jowan dryly.

‘Monks? Here in Skyhold?’. Rose turned to Jowan, clearly interested in venturing to an abbey in the mountains. ‘Is there a monastery close to Skyhold?’

The chevalier raised his brows in amusement, looking to Varric for clarification. The dwarf however merely grinned on in silence.

‘To answer your question, no.’ replied Jowan ‘Varric likes to dress my mages in robes for commercial reasons. Not sure if you’ve heard of The Monks of the Magi Mead?’

‘Mage by profession but monk in spirit.’ chuckled Varric.

‘And by spirit, he means the abundance of Magi Monk Mead flooding the premises as we speak.’ muttered Jowan.

‘I’m afraid Rose and I do not savour mead as our Ferelden neighbours do.’ apologised Michel. He threw a whimsical hand in the air. ‘It’s all claret and pinot in our vineyards in Montsimmard, isn’t that right _ma'arlath_?’

My heart sunk as I heard the elvish words pour from his mouth. _Ma'arlath_. The elvish for; _my love_. Words of endearment so often said to me, Michel’s pet name for me became _ma'arlath_. In turn, I called him the same. And while I wasn’t sad that Michel wasn’t in love with me now, it left me feeling a little strange to know that my name had been given to another.

‘Oh yes, claret is akin to water back home.’ agreed Rose ‘I don’t think I’ve ever tried mead?’

Varric nudged his head to the keep. ‘When you’re ready I’m happy to show you our entire range. It’ll knock your socks off.’

The Orlesian noblewomen smiled uncertainly at the dwarf, perhaps wondering whether that was a good or bad thing?

Michel shook his head with a smile, clearly entertained with the rogue. ‘We thank you for your hospitality.’

‘Yes, thank you all for your hospitality.’ acknowledged Rose ‘The invitation to come here was only for Michel but it is hard to be away for so long so soon after our wedding. You must forgive my imposition at such an important time. I shall strive not to get in the way.’. Her attention drew down to the templars in the courtyard, and she threw a sad smile. ‘There is some comfort being here, as strange as it sounds? My dear cousin became a templar. Every time I see the uniform it reminds me of him.’

Michel nodded in silence, silently commiserating the man. ‘Rose’s cousin fell in battle. He ah- '

The woman placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. ‘It’s okay, mon cher.’. She turned to us with a serious expression. ‘Jean-Luc became a Red Templar. He died fighting against the Inquisition. He was a traitor…but I still loved him.’

Uncomfortably we struggled to reply to that, and a silence filled the platform for a moment. It could have been any one of us who had killed her cousin, given we had killed many Red Templars over the years.

‘A lot of good men and women were corrupted by that foul red lyrium, I am very sorry for your loss.’ I sympathised.

Varric rubbed his neck uneasily. ‘Yeah, heck, sorry Rosey.’

‘We have a shrine dedicated to the fallen templars of the Inquisition, including the Red Templars.’ informed Jowan compassionately. ‘It is in the herb gardens and if you get a chance feel free to light a candle for your cousin.’

Rose smiled at us. ‘You are all so kind. Thank you, that would be lovely.’

With a sweeping arm, Jowan began to walk down the flight of stairs towards the courtyard. ‘We’ve arranged a comfortable room for Michel in the grounds. Right this way, I’ll show you both there now.’

As Rose and Michel followed on, I silently thanked the Maker for Jowan’s quick response to an uncomfortable situation. He also knew very well how I felt about Michel. The last thing I wanted to do was show him and his wife to their room.

‘All good Sparrow?’ asked Varric.

_What could I say to that?_ Life moved on and so had Michel, to greater and grander things in life. Standing here and speaking to him as little more than a stranger felt wrong, but so too did the way he left all those years back.

‘Someone told me once that people don’t change.’ I contemplated, turning to the rogue. ‘You know Varric, I think I’m beginning to see that now? Michel hasn’t changed. Not one bit. He’s the same person he always was. I just never knew him before.’

With a shrug I left the dwarf on the platform, pondering my words as he watched the templars and mages bustle across the courtyard below.


	143. The Selfless and The Selfish

After their long trip from Montsimmard, Michel and Rose de Chevin were eager to retire to their humble lodgings in Skyhold. A simple bed, wooden tub and one small table by the window was all that awaited them, and while Michel was accustomed to the scarcely furnished rooms of the keep, Rose appeared dismayed.

‘Oh, it’s so...._simple_?’ she observed, looking about the room uncertainly.

Smiling at his wife’s remark, the chevalier placed down their luggage by the end of the four-poster bed.

‘I did warn you, _mon cherie_. There is little luxury in Skyhold.’

The Orlesian women shrugged as if she was determined not to be deterred, and proceeded to take off her fur wrap. ‘What care do I have for luxury when my husband is not by my side? I’m glad I came Michel. Nothing is more important than us being together. Let Orlais have it’s affluence. I have my husband.’’

‘It pleases me to hear you speak so.’ admitted Michel, placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek. ‘You shall make my trip here bearable,_ ma’arlath._ Enjoyable even?’

Placing a hand to her lips, she blew him a kiss. ‘I shall try.’

The chevalier grabbed the imaginary kiss from the air and held his hand to his heart. ‘_Mon cherie_, you don’t even have to try.’

The lady smiled, turning to the bed where she carefully laid out her wrap. Rose shook her head in displeasure, eyeing a stain on the expensive white wolf fur.

‘Such a shame it was ruined by a silly cup of tea in Jader.’ she sighed ‘And to think my tailor only made this two weeks ago? I wish now we’d never stopped for a break in that dirty alehouse.’

Michel cast an eye over the small offender, no bigger than a drop or two of light brown scattered on the fur. ‘It is barely noticeable _mon cherie_, a scrub of soap may be all that’s needed? Alexandre can do wonders with cleaning, let him try when we return to Lapin. Do not worry over such things.’

Unconvinced she discarded the fur as if it were a rag, throwing it to the corner of the room where it landed on the ground with a soft thud.

‘A stain on white is a stain forever, Michel. What would one think if they saw me wearing grubby clothing? It’s not a problem, I can get another made next time I’m in Val Royeaux.’. Turning to her husband with a mischievous grin, she added quickly. ‘And perhaps we can think about buying an apartment in the city? Somewhere for your wife to enjoy the ambiance of the capital while you are away on work matters? My mother has found just the place. She knows the owners and they are interested in selling. _For the right price_. The place is spectacular. Everyone in Orlais wishes to live by the Summer Bazaar.’

‘What about our manor in Lapin?’ asked Michel in surprise. ‘Or my estates in Montsimmard? Surely we have too many properties as it is?’

‘It’s nothing grand, just a little apartment to spend a few cultured days here and there with fellow Royans.’ pleaded Rose with a grin. ‘I know we do not need it but there is so much joy we could experience living there. You and I dining at _The Sweetsong Brandy Parlour_ before the fountains? Drinking champagne in the Grande Royeaux Theatre? Shopping at boutiques in the Summer Bazaar?’

‘Shopping in boutiques?’ teased Michel playfully ‘I cannot say I am swayed with that proposition.’

‘It would make me happy?’ informed Rose sweetly.

Surrendering to her request, Michel threw his wife an affectionate smile. ‘If that is your heart’s wish then I will not be the one to deny it? You do not need to ask my permission when all that I have is yours _ma’arlath_.’

‘Oh my love, you are too good to me!’ she replied, placing a kiss on her husband’s cheek. ‘Thank you Michel, thank you.’

Removing his attire, the chevalier eased himself tiredly into the bed. ‘I believe we’ve managed to survive day one at Skyhold. Let us pray this is over before too long.’

Rose joined her husband, curling up beside him under the covers. ‘You seem a little more peaceful now? Perhaps the anticipation of the trip was making you stressed? For now that you’ve arrived I feel you are content?’

Michel patted the pillow and placed his sleepy head to rest.

‘That’s exactly how it feels, _ma’arlath._’ he murmured. ‘Once I discovered Skyhold felt the same as when I was living here, I felt strangely at peace once more.’

****

Arising famished, Michel was keen to bring a spot of breakfast for him and his wife before starting the day. While Rose slept peacefully under the rough cotton sheets in their guest lodgings, he crept out of the guest quarters and quietly closed the door. Pacing down the stone cloister with a merry whistle, Michel turned a sharp corner and found himself face to face with a large mob of children gathered in the gardens.

The Orlesian lifted his brows in surprise as several spotted him and surrounded the chevalier in fascination, pointing to his armour and sword and hurling a barrage of questions his way.

‘Is that a real sword?’

‘Have you killed people with it?’

‘Do you serve the king?’

‘How much is that sword?’

‘Are you a knight?’

‘How much gold do you own?’

‘Are you a templar?’

‘Is that a dog on your breastplate?’

Hesitating with a laugh, Michel raised his hands patiently at the crowd of small faces. From ages six to eighteen, there appeared at least fifty children circling him.

‘_Bonjour mes enfants_, I’m Ser Michel de Chevin.’ he introduced himself with a kind voice. ‘No, I’m not a templar. I’m a chevalier from Orlais, which is similar to your Ferelden knights.’. He placed a hand on his hilt, where curious eyes were taking in the blade with fascination. ‘This is my sword, Banal Nadas. It is a very special silver sword that has green metal leaves on the hilt, like that of climbing ivy.’

Sounds of awe surrounded him, and several of the children asked to hold the blade. Michel politely declined the requests. He looked to the large group with curiosity, wondering why so many children had gathered together?

‘May I ask why you are all here in the gardens at this hour of morning?’

‘We’re waiting for breakfast.’ grumbled one of the older children. ‘Seven o’clock every morning we’re allowed in the main hall and not a minute before or Nan will tan our hides. Until then we wait out here in the garden.’

A hand bell rang from the upper courtyard and the group of children cheered in delight, running towards the main hall. One grabbed the hand of Michel and tugged him along.

‘Come on.’ encouraged the child ‘You need to hurry or you’ll miss out on breakfast!’

With an amused laugh Michel permitted himself to be led on, traipsing up to the main hall with a group of chattering children. He paused in surprise as he stepped into the hall, expecting a feast and yet being met with a dismal reception of a large pot of watery porridge and chunks of plain brown bread. A tired looking cook was serving the children who lined up patiently, slopping small scoops of the offending food into worn wooden bowls.

Michel’s mind wandered to the usual elegant affair of breakfast that awaited him in Orlais. Of large mugs of sweet coffee and pastries, eggs with creamy sauces and thick slices of smoked ham, and large bowls of fruit holding every seasonal variety imaginable.

‘Here ser knight, take this.’

A small girl no older than eight smiled at him and placed a worn bowl into the chevalier’s large hands. Michel returned a thankful nod of his own, yet he was finding it hard to ignore the pang of sadness that grew within him. Thoughts of his own painful childhood filled to his mind. He recalled his early years in the alienage of Montfort, where food just as this was all he had to look forward to. As a child he endured the hunger woefully, always famished and wishing his mother had more food in their bare pantry. He would linger by the tavern window where his mother worked, always delighted when she’d sneakily pass him a scrap or two off the finished plates of the patrons. After she died, his hunger fell to new depths of desperation as he lived on the streets. Grass. Roots. Leaves. Anything he could get his hands on he would ingest, in the hopes it would ease the aching in his stomach.

Unaware of his steps, Michel soon realised he was at the front of the line before the tired cook.

‘You want some bread with that luv?’ asked the woman, pointing her ladle at a pile of unappetising stale slices of loaves.

‘No, I’m sorry nothing for me.’ replied Michel quickly, placing the bowl on the table next to the pot. With a frown, he paused. ‘Forgive my directness, but is this all the children eat for breakfast?’

Slopping a small portion into a bowl for a child beside the chevalier, the cook continued her work.

‘Aye and all the mages here.’ she replied. ‘Don’t worry yourself, it ain’t that bad. This food here is a lot better than last year’s grub. We didn’t have the money for flour back then. Just porridge in the morning, and a bit of cheese and an apple for lunch. That’s all until dinner. Mistress Ophelia and Master Jowan organise trips down to Ferelden for fruit and vegetables, but we’ve never enough. Everything good gets slapped into a stew for dinner. You sure I can’t tempt you with a bowl this morning? The day’s long but it’d be longer on an empty stomach.’

Michel shook his head politely. ‘Thank you but no. Pardon me, I should go.’

Unwilling to linger, Michel retreated from the breakfast cue and was met by Jowan making his way into the main hall.

‘Good morning!’ greeted Jowan to a group of children that were rolling their empty bowls along the wooden floor in some sort of game. ‘Hurry up and get some breakfast, your classes start in half an hour.’

He grinned as several of them groaned in protest.

‘Master MacLothlorean, can’t we have the day off to watch the templars set up their camp?’

‘There will plenty time for watching templars in the next few months.’ replied Jowan ‘But your spelling and arithmetic lessons cannot wait. You’ll thank me one day, knowledge is important. Knowledge is everything.’

The children nodded, slumping off as Jowan grinned at their disheartened faces. He turned to the chevalier who was watching on with a concerned expression.

Jowan waved his hand at the chevalier. ‘Oh don’t worry, they have plenty of time to play. We just start lessons early because it’s when their concentration is best. The afternoon is spent enjoying their childhood pursuits.’

‘You teach the children here as scholars?’ inquired Michel in surprise.

Jowan tilted his head at the man, as if perplexed by the question. ‘Why of course? One must be able to read and write, and have a general education before one can be expected to approach magic responsibly. And with a mature mind. These children need to learn their schooling before we begin arcane training. Usually we begin magical training at the age of fourteen.’

The mage threw Michel an inquisitive look, noticing the Orlesian’s forlorn expression. ‘Michel? Is anything the matter?’

‘These children eat so little?’ observed the Orlesian dismally. ‘A bit of porridge for breakfast? A bit of cheese and an apple for lunch?’

Jowan sighed, nodding his head. ‘And to think we had the audacity once upon a time to think the food of the Inquisition was lacklustre? Yes, that is the unfortunate way of life when we house so many here. We’ve no outside funding, _as you can imagine_. The Chantry has never offered us one brass coin. Ferelden and Orlais are the same. Mind you, the Templar Order are still keen to watch us from afar but now they don’t have to house or feed us, so they’re better off now financially. Nevertheless, we do our best. No one here goes without, but there is little to go around. I’ve sat down with our cooks and created a menu suited for a healthy constitution, despite our limited means. Every mage has fruit and vegetables in their daily intake. Oh, and a serve of sauerkraut to boot, thanks to our Senior Enchanter Dennel and his penchant for fermentation. The children hate it but as I like to say;_ eat it because it’s good for you.’_

‘I had no idea you and Ophelia were doing all this on your own.’ murmured Michel. ‘I merely thought there were a handful of you here just practicing -’

‘- _evil blood magic?_’ mused Jowan. He waved a hand to dismiss the apologetic look from the chevalier. ‘No don’t worry, that’s the general consensus one has of this place until you actually come here and see what Skyhold is all about. We take care of the mages that have nowhere else to go and give them food, clothing and shelter. We provide them with an education and equip them with the tools that they will need to live their lives in future days. Mage children rarely have access to schooling in Ferelden or Orlais. They are refused on grounds of their abilities. It puts them at a disadvantage that we seek to remedy. Every person in Thedas should have the right to learn how to read and write.’

Humbled by the mage’s words, the chevalier placed a hand on his chest. ‘That is a very noble pursuit.’

Jowan placed a pensive finger on his lips. ‘If I may ask a favour, you may serve the elven children here as a good role model? We’ve many elven mages in our care, most from the alienages. They’ve few role models in a world where even their own clans have abandoned them. It would do them a world of good to learn of your own half-elf heritage? Rising from humble beginnings to the ranks of chevalier.’

‘A fact that unfortunately is a well-guarded secret in Orlais.’ apologised Michel. ‘My direct ties to the de Chevin name and the de Chalons family make it imperative that my elven heritage remains a secret.’

Jowan appeared confused. ‘Oh, I understand?’

Michel sighed, knowing his situation was ambiguous and few would ever understand it. Especially not Jowan. ‘How could you? Please allow me to explain. I feel with you I can be open with such matters without fear of it going further than the two of us?’

‘Naturally whatever you have to say shall stay between us.’ reassured Jowan.

‘My adoptive uncle Comte Brevin de Chalons arranged the fabricated title of de Chevin when I was ten.’ admitted Michel. ‘The documents of my heraldry title are the most official fake documents you’ll find in the Orlesian records. Essentially my identity was changed the moment my uncle decided to elevate me from the alienage I was from and go live with him. Officially I am a distant cousin to the de Chevins, originating from a dead line of the family that cannot be traced. My uncle was very precise with details. I owe him my life and would never disgrace his family by revealing the truth.’. The chevalier shook his head in disapproval. ‘Elven lineage is looked down upon in the Orlesian circles. A chevalier is certainly not permitted to have elvish blood. I am not ashamed of my elven ancestors, but it appears the world I live in is.’

‘Forgive my ignorance, I did not realise it was such a secret.’ replied Jowan in surprise.

Michel dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. ‘During my time in the Inquisition I had no cause to conceal it, being exiled from Orlais and shunned from my adoptive family. Although I had little reason to make it public knowledge either? As you and most of the Inquisition council were aware, my elven ties were largely revealed at the time thanks to Imshael’s interest in me. My wife also knows, although she has never revealed this fact to her family and I understand her reasons completely and hold no judgement. During my stay here I would prefer my lineage to remain a secret if possible?’

‘Of course, you have my word.’ reassured Jowan. Directing his hand towards the pot of porridge, Jowan smiled. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to grab some breakfast before my classes begin.’

Michel smiled graciously as the mage passed, and yet his smile faded back into a frown as Jowan’s back turned. Feeling more than a little crestfallen, the chevalier left the main hall empty handed and miserable.

Michel did not care about missing breakfast, but this morning had reminded the chevalier of many things he’d forgotten to care about.

_Things that should never have been forgotten._


	144. Bottled Up Hate

Four days had passed since the arrival of the templars and already they had transformed the area outside of Skyhold into a large templar encampment, enclosed by a wooden barrier that appeared fortress like in appearance. As the templars busied themselves with unpacking and setting up their make shift settlement, we continued to go about our days as usual. One would not have even suspected there were templars nearby, aside from the constant hammering of wood that could be heard outside our window.

At the midday break Jowan and I retired to our study, finding ourselves unable to open a box left on our table by Varric.

Thrusting a helpless hand towards the box, Jowan cursed to himself. ‘I can’t do it. It’s going to be empty. I just know it.’

Uneasily I touched the lid, as if a lethal viper lay within ready to strike. Flipping back the lid, we both chuckled in surprise.

The box was filled with names.

‘Varric you genius.’ mused Jowan.

Looking to Jowan, I grinned. ‘Varric did all this? True to his word he’s plied the mages with liquor at The Cock and Bull and convinced them to put their names down.’. Frowning at the box, I hesitated. ‘Isn’t that considered wilful intent?’

‘No, it’s taking initiative.’ dismissed Jowan.

He rushed to the box and pulled out the papers, opening them one by one with a wide smile. ‘Well yes, I half expected you would be interested.’ Jowan remarked to himself, before grabbing another paper. ‘Oh Cecile, yes a fine addition.’. Opening another he frowned. ‘Interesting but never in a thousand years would I let you near an alchemy bench let alone teach to become a maleficar.’. He chuckled, amused at another name. ‘Oh yes, brilliant. Brilliant.’

Our delight at the box of names was interrupted by a loud knocking on the war room door. Leaving my companion, who was more interested in reading the names, I opened the door and came face to face with Knight-Captain Arrus, Knight-Commander Cullen, and several other templars I did not recognise.

‘Mistress Trevelyan, good morning.’ greeted Cullen civilly, lowering his head in a semi-formal bow. ‘I hope you’re not busy? We’ve a matter that we need to attend to. May we come in for a moment?’

Noticing how devilishly handsome the Commander appeared in his templar uniform, I tried my best not to stare. Tall, proud and strong, he suited his title of Knight-Commander very well.

I extended my hand, encouraging the group to enter the room.

‘Of course, we were just-’

Before I could even finish the sentence I could hear the steps of Jowan coming to stand by my side.

‘Greetings to you and your group of templars.’ welcomed Jowan, clearly unimpressed there were six of them now in our study. Unable to help himself, Jowan beamed at Arrus. ‘Knight-Captain, how are you enjoying your stay at Skyhold?’

Knight-Captain Arrus held a calm countenance, nodded firmly to the mage. ‘It’s a fine keep you have here, Master MacLothlorean.’

‘So, what is this matter you wish to speak of?’ I asked Cullen, running my eyes to the other silent men standing in the room. Emotionless faces encased in templar armour; their presence filled me with unease.

The Knight-Commander raised his arm to the group, introducing the men. ‘This is templar Rennock, Graham, Sean, and Henry. And you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting my Knight-Captain.’. Cullen appeared serious as he looked from me to Jowan. ‘I’m afraid we’ve come on a formal matter that cannot be postponed. On the orders of Divine Elizabeth, this was directed to be done immediately on our arrival.’

Clicking his fingers to a templar, one of the men handed a small wooden box to the Commander. At the sight of it, Jowan and I scoffed in disgust.

‘You can’t be serious?’ chortled Jowan ‘_Really?_ You brought six templars with you to aid you in this formal matter?’

‘Your previous reception made us rethink our numbers.’ replied Arrus dryly.

Smirking at the Knight-Captain, Jowan crossed his arms. ‘Well you’re about several hundred short?’. His dark eyes turned to Cullen with amusement. ‘Cullen you disappoint me. Bringing in extra men suggests your templars find us a threat? All you had to do was ask nicely.’

‘Consider that to be what I am doing right now.’ advised Cullen sternly. He opened the box, revealing several empty glass vials, a long tube and a small blade. ‘You and Mistress Trevelyan agreed in front of Divine Elizabeth that you would each provide the Templar Order with a phylactery of your blood. It was on this condition that you would be permitted to proceed with your training.’

‘Fine.’ muttered Jowan, turning back to his desk.

With swift hands he pulled out two bottles of blood from a draw, one with a neat label marked;_ Jowan MacLothlorean,_ and the other labelled _Ophelia Trevelyan_. My eyes darted curiously to my companion’s, knowing I had never given him a bottle of my blood.

‘You could have saved yourself the trouble of this spectacle. Here.’. Jowan held out the two bottles of blood to the Commander. ‘We’ve done the job for you already. A bottle of my blood and a bottle of Ophelia’s.’

Cullen raised a brow, eyeing the bottles with suspicion. ‘Not that we’re not grateful for you both taking matters into your own hands, but we have our orders. The blood must be taken fresh, and with six witnesses from the Order present.’

‘How convenient.’ replied Jowan icily.

Irritated that there was clearly little trust being displayed from the templars, I was determined to dig my heels in. It mattered little that the blood in that vial wasn’t mine. This ran deeper than that. It was about the lack of faith the templars had in Jowan and I. We weren’t some initiates at the circle tower hoping to evade handing our blood over in order to run away. We were the heads of The Mage Order of Southern Thedas and our words should have held enough weight to discount suspicion.

Stirring irritably, I knew I couldn’t keep quiet.

‘Knight-Commander Cullen, why would Jowan and I have cause to deceive you? If we say we have drawn our blood then we have. Whose else would it be?’

‘Whose indeed?’ echoed Jowan, narrowing his eyes at the templars. ‘As if we haven’t better things to do than provide you with false phylacteries. You do realise I am teaching five classes a day? I barely get enough time to enjoy a cup of tea, let alone concoct some conspiracy involving fake vials of blood.’

The Commander scoffed at the comment. ‘With all respect, how many times were the mages permitted in the towers to take their own blood and pass it on to the templars? Never. It’s a matter of us making sure no ambiguity arises from the phylacteries.’

‘_Deception_, you mean?’ I scoffed.

Cullen’s flinty stare revealed he was not impressed with my observations.

‘We set an example for all mages and templars by the actions in this room.’ lectured the Commander. ‘The blood must be taken by our hand and our hand alone.’

‘I recall the First Enchanter’s job is to take the phylacteries of the initiates?’ argued Jowan ‘And in that case, the equivalent role would be in the hands of Ophelia and I. Not the templars.’

Cullen shook his head, refusing to budge on the matter. ‘No First Enchanter on my watch ever took their own blood. Yes, they were responsible for taking the initiates phylacteries in the circle, but circumstances have changed. We are not in the towers any longer. Our protocol regarding this has changed and we will not be breaking it.’

‘You’re saying you don’t trust us.’ I accused. ‘A fine way to start our new mission, wouldn’t you say? There needs to be trust between us, Knight-Commander.’

‘Maker help me, it’s begun already.’. Cullen rolled his eyes, causing several of the templars to laugh in turn.

‘_Excuse me?_’ I replied furiously. ‘Is this some sort of joke to you all?’

I could not believe my ears. _Was Cullen actually mocking me in front of his men?_ Ridiculing my words for his own entertainment? Cullen wasn’t being indifferent to me. He was being completely disrespectful and belligerent.

‘We would never joke about templar duties, madame.’ replied Arrus condescendingly.

‘A little hard when your entire Order _is just that._’ snickered Jowan.

Cullen threw a stern glare towards me. ‘Mistress Trevelyan, let me make myself perfectly clear. Our orders come from the Chantry, not you. If we are told to take your blood directly then that is what we shall do.’

‘Go on then, _try_.’ I threatened.

Cullen scowled, turning to Jowan. ‘You talk some sense into her.’

Jowan shrugged with a smirk. ‘Did she not just invite you to attempt your duty?’

Thrusting my hand out to the bottles in Jowan’s hand, I refused to let the matter slide. ‘You want our blood? Well we’ve taken it and there it is. Now please leave our study, I’ve had enough of you all.’

Arrus turned to the Commander, growing impatient. ‘We are entitled to take it by force.’ he observed in a low voice.

‘Is this how it shall play out?’ asked Cullen harshly, his amber eyes baring into mine. He thrust a firm hand towards his Knight-Captain. ‘Shall we escalate this and take your phylactery against your will? Is that what you want?’

‘No, it’s what you want.’ I replied coldly.

Jowan groaned, rolling up the black sleeve of his robes to expose a pale white arm. ‘Fine, here take mine first. At least while Ophelia decides what she wishes to do. I care little for some Chantry cretin taking my blood with a hose, but if it makes your day then so be it.’

Arrus approached the mage with his phylactery box and Jowan chuckled.

‘Of course you would want the pleasure.’ sneered Jowan, ‘Something tells me you templars get a little roused being in such close proximity to a maleficar? Please come close and enjoy the experience of taking blood from a blood mage. I know I look forward doing the same to you soon enough. Bleeders are essential for blood magic.’

Arrus glared with hostility at the mage. ‘I will never serve you as a bleeder. _Never_.’

Jowan stepped forward with his arm outstretched, a grin on his face as the templar nicked his vein and placed the hose roughly into his arm. The mage refused to flinch, but the smile on his face seemed to grow wider with the pain.

‘Never say never Arrus.’ taunted Jowan with a whisper. His eyes looked pleasantly at the blood running down the hose into the bottle. ‘Blood is rather fascinating, wouldn’t you say? We need it to survive, and yet by taking it you have more power than you could possibly imagine? Phylacteries are a form of blood magic, just in case you were wondering. Ironic, yes? Here is the Templar Order _so against blood magic_ and yet you all incorporate it into your principle practices as a templar. Some might say the templars are in fact blood mages themselves?’

‘Some might say that you talk too much, Master MacLothlorean.’ retorted Cullen flatly.

Jowan smiled pleasantly as Arrus clenched his jaw, drawing the bottle full before yanking the hose away from the mage’s arm.

‘I’m more inclined to hear what Knight-Captain Arrus has to say about it?’ responded Jowan, holding his robe to his arm, preventing the blood trickling down.

Refusing to answer, Arrus turned away angrily and Jowan chuckled.

Cullen’s eyes remained on me, painfully stern.

‘Mistress?’ the Knight-Commander pressed ‘Are you ready?’

Words could not describe how angry I was. There had to be a better way to ask for our phylacteries than threatening us? Cullen was intentionally being hostile. This was not the man I knew behind closed doors.

Furiously I rolled up my sleeve and held it out.

‘What are you waiting for?’ I replied coldly ‘Take your blood and then you and your templars can get the fuck out of my office.’

A small crease on Cullen’s brow was the only response to my words as the Commander grasped my arm with ruthless pressure. His steely gaze pierced mine as he drew his cold blade to my flesh, the sharp tip lingering on my skin in that moment of anticipation.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked in an officious manner.

‘Do it.’ I seethed.

A painful sting sliced into my arm, followed by a sharp prodding of tube into my wounded flesh. It hurt terribly. The eyes of the Commander pressed painfully on me, watching my every minute reaction, and I knew revealing my discomfort would only serve to please him. My pain would only serve to excite him. Cullen watched me intently as the blood drew up the tube and into the bottle. Cullen’s grip on my arm was excessively tight, forcefully holding me in place as if he didn’t want this moment to end.

‘Good.’ he murmured ‘_Just a little bit more_.’

My green eyes flashed with anger, knowing now for certain the Commander was getting off on this perverse procedure. The tone in his voice was an all too familiar one. It suggested he was getting his sadistic pleasure in the heat of the moment. Like when he would whip my arse red raw and whisper encouragements to endure the pain_ just a little bit more_.

As the bottle filled to the top with my blood, he somewhat reluctantly removed the hose from my arm.

‘Fucking sadist.’ I scorned, watching the blood spurt heavily from my arm.

Angrily Cullen’s amber eyes caught mine, desperate to say more but unable to in front of a room full of templars.

Jowan scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. ‘You were ordered to take her phylactery, not make her bleed to death.’

‘Just apply pressure to it.’ Cullen barked back, turning away swiftly with the phylactery in his hand.

He thrust the bottle at Arrus before throwing his furious eyes at Jowan and I.

‘We’re going to need the list of names of all the mages you are involving on this mission.’ informed Cullen bluntly, storming from the room. ‘By the end of the day. Thank you both for your cooperation, it’s been a pleasure as always.’ he yelled out from the corridor.

Without another word the templars followed on quietly.

Knight-Captain Arrus collected the bottles and placed them carefully in another box. He hesitated at the entrance of the room, perhaps wondering whether anything should be said as he stared at my heavily bleeding arm that had turned my entire lower limb red with blood. His blue eyes flickered in slight concern, but his ego urged him to continue forward and march out of the room without another word.

‘_Cretins_.’ muttered Jowan, closing the door behind the last of the templars.

Looking down at my arm in shock, it was as if I had fell in battle by a savage blade. The blood flowed fast, despite the pressure of another cloth being placed hastily by Jowan.

‘Hold it firm.’ encouraged Jowan ‘The muttonhead ran his blade far too deep. Clearly a novice at bloodletting.’

Noticing my fury had not dissipated, he swiftly attended to the cauldron above the fire and made some tea.

‘Did you expect this to go any other way?’ muttered Jowan. ‘At the end of the day they are templars.’

Rubbing my arm, where the bandage grew red, I knew there was a truth in Jowan’s words. At the end of the day we were entertaining a pack of monsters.

‘To come in here and demand our blood like that.’ I exclaimed in disbelief. ‘Treating us like circle mages rather than heads of our own guild. It was humiliating, Jowan.’

Looking at my hands, they were shaking.

Handing a cup of strange scented tea to me, Jowan nodded in encouragement. ‘Here, it will calm your nerves.’. Eyeing my red arm and blood-soaked bandage, he pursed his lips in annoyance. ‘Well we’ve established Cullen has a poor technique of drawing blood. And shows his affection for you by letting you bleed out on the floor. Quite the romantic.’

‘Enough.’ I muttered.

‘Are you in pain?’ frowned Jowan. ‘I’ve some comfrey salve in my draw.’

‘I’m fine.’ I replied bitterly. ‘No, I take it back. I’m not fine. Not one bit.’

Casting my eyes to the two bottles of labelled blood on the war table, I knew I had to ask.

‘Whose blood is that?’

Jowan chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. ‘_Not ours_, that’s for sure.’

The mage noticed my concern and he shook his head with a smile. ‘Pigs blood. Don’t fret, I didn’t steal it off some dairymaid dancing in a field or whatever you are imagining right now.’

‘Ah.’ I nodded, hesitant to admit that was partially what I was thinking.

Unable to wipe the wicked grin from his face, Jowan took another sip of tea. ‘You certainly were eager to defend our innocence, despite the fact that we were absolutely guilty. It was inspiring.’

‘The Templar Order has our phylacteries, Jowan.’ I replied darkly. ‘I’d say anything to ensure they don’t have our blood tucked away at the White Spire in Val Royeaux. Do you realise how terrible that is? How terrible it will be for all the mages we put on that list there and hand over to the templars? They can hunt us down now. Not today, not tomorrow…but some day.’

‘An unfortunate agreement that was necessary to ensure we got the necessary resources from the Chantry in order to do this mission. We will deal with the phylacteries later, there is nothing to be done about it at present.’ dismissed Jowan. His dark eyes turned up to me with intent. ‘Now is our turn to make the demands. The templars must supply us with resources and learn to fight within our magical defence. Cassandra is a fool if she thinks I’ll teach one hint of a trick to the templars so they can use it to defeat my magic.’

Recalling Jowan had promised to teach the templars how to defend themselves against blood magic, I was uncertain how he was going to go back on his word. ‘Didn’t you promise to train the templars in defence against blood magic?’

‘They will not learn one technique to defend themselves against it.’ declared Jowan adamantly ‘Our mages will ensure they are protected and the templars will soon learn that they are dependent on the mages. Completely dependent.’

‘Of course.’ I agreed ‘Why would we equip them better to hunt down maleficars in later days? The templars come here to fight Sapientes but need protection. We will provide that, but nothing more.’

‘Precisely.’ replied Jowan. ‘So, let them think this phylactery is a win for their Order. Let them think that is all the security they will ever need. When the day comes, if they try to hunt us down, we will be more than ready. Only this time, they will afford no protection from us.’

Placing the cup down, I knew I needed some time to myself after all that had just happened. ‘I’m off to see this Eluvian. I need to clear my head a bit.’

‘A fascinating relic, I managed to have a peak at it earlier on.’ acknowledged Jowan. Clicking his fingers, he beckoned me to his desk. ‘Before you go, let me dress that wound properly. I wouldn’t want it to get infected.’. Drawing a jar of sweets from his robes, he held them out to me. ‘Eat one. I find it helps with the light-headedness after letting blood.’

****

_The flighty moments of desire made paupers as kings, and kings as paupers._

_For all were heady with lust and dreamt of love’s promise along the way._

_Each season fell so sweetly._

_Each noise a lofty song._

_And the heart’s soft flutter beating was eternal and ever strong._

Quill in hand, Alistair stared at the empty parchment with a frown. For the last half hour he’d been hovering above the crisp sheet, willing his mind to direct his quill to write the appropriate words. So far all he’d come up with was;

_Dear Theresa,_

_I hope you have been well._

Dropping the quill back into the ink pot, Alistair frowned.

‘How am I supposed to write this?’ he muttered.

It had been a day since he and Leliana had shared a kiss on her bed in the guest quarters. And ever since Alistair had found it very difficult to concentrate on anything other than that. He felt terribly guilty in finding so much pleasure recollecting the moment, especially since he was courting another woman who had not been the recipient of that particular kiss. His shame urged him to lock himself up in his study that afternoon and not meet with Leliana. Instead he was determined to write a letter to Theresa and try to make amends for his behaviour.

_Ding….ding…..ding…..ding…._

The long clock struck four as Alistair continued his correspondence.

_Dear Theresa,_

_I hope you have been well. I must apologise for not visiting, I have been very busy with several royal matters_

_ _

‘Such as kissing other women.’ muttered Alistair under his breath.

_Tap, tap, tap….tap, tap, tap, tap…..tap, tap, tap_

‘Perfect.’ sighed the king, dropping his quill into the pot once more. ‘Yes, come in.’

His royal attendant briskly entered the room, rolling an arm as he curled into a low bow. ‘Your Majesty one of your guests, a Mistress Leliana, wishes to speak with you. Shall I show her in?’

Jolting up from his seat, Alistair knew his reaction was one of nervousness rather than surprise. He knew it was only a matter of time before they would have to speak about what had happened. Unfortunately he had desired it not to be right now.

‘Of course, show her in.’ Alistair replied.

The king shuffled as his attendant escorted Leliana into his study. She threw Alistair a smile as she entered, running her eyes across the room with interest as she waited for the attendant to leave.

‘Leliana.’ greeted Alistair nervously. He extended a hand to a chair. ‘Please take a seat. You wished to speak with me?’

‘I think we should, no?’ replied Leliana, taking a seat before the desk.

The king’s sitting room was painfully professional as Alistair sat on one side of the desk and Leliana on the other. Two individuals coming face to face so formally when the other day they had been so intimate.

‘I was just writing a letter to Theresa.’ informed Alistair.

Silently he cursed himself, realising how insensitive it was to mention at this particular moment.

‘Is that so?’ replied Leliana politely.

She pulled her hair behind her ear, looking through the window and avoiding Alistair’s eyes. Her discomfort was apparent, but so was her determination to speak to the king as she sat there.

‘Well, I didn’t really have much to say.’ mumbled Alistair ‘I managed the _Dear So-and-So_ part but the rest…well uh, what did you wish to see me for?’

Her green eyes met his and she broke into an uncertain smile. Alistair noticed the way she played with her ginger tresses when she was nervous and soon become mesmerised by the way she twirled the strands around her elegant fingers.

‘Alistair, this is hard for me to tell you. Given how kind you’ve been to me over the last month or so.’ Leliana explained. ‘My life has been…_difficult_. For a very long time now. Being kept prisoner in the Fade is something I cannot talk to you about. Someday I may but for now I know my only chance of surviving it is to not think about it.’

Her eyes glistened as she visibly grew upset talking about not talking of her harrowing experience.

‘And I never would ask you to.’ reassured Alistair, reaching his arm across the table as if reaching out to her. ‘There is no pressure for you to do anything.’. His brown eyes fell in shame. ‘Leliana, I’m so sorry. To do what I did yesterday was unfair to you. I brought you here to heal in this palace, and then took advantage of you.’

Leliana tilted her head in confusion. ‘That is not what you did Alistair. You made me feel…_special_. Something that I haven’t experienced in a long time. That kiss we shared was the first time I’ve felt desired in a long time.’

‘I felt the same way.’ confessed Alistair.

Raising her hand, her attention fell to the deep scar starting from her wrist. ‘You’d think the torture was the worst part of my abduction, but it wasn’t. It was the fear that I’d never escape from that place. When I came back I’ve spent every waking moment fearing I will be taken again. Up until yesterday afternoon that’s all I ever thought about.’. She looked up to Alistair. ‘When you kissed me, something sparked inside. I felt joy. I didn’t think I’d ever feel that again.’

The king nodded in understanding. Alistair knew exactly how she felt.

‘I felt the same way Leliana.’ he replied softly.

She threw a small smile back at the king. ‘Alistair I’m attracted to you. You needn’t think you took advantage of me. I wanted you to do a lot more than that long before yesterday.’

Alistair could feel his cheeks burn at her confession, and a warmth filled his belly. Running a hand through his brown hair, the king laughed nervously as Leliana grinned at his embarrassment.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve shaken your composure with my directness.’ teased Leliana. ‘I never was the modest type.’

‘Oh, I’ll survive.’ chuckled Alistair, amused at Leliana’s playfulness. ‘You know you’ve been on my mind non-stop since your arrival? And they were not the kind of thoughts you’d mention over a cup of tea,_ if you know what I mean?’_

Leliana raised her brow and Alistair laughed.

‘Why Alistair, you tease.’ mused Leliana ‘I’d like to know what you think about? All the clean thoughts. _All the dirty ones.’_

‘Leliana you’re making me blush.’ laughed Alistair, rubbing his neck bashfully.

She raised her slender hands up seriously, her smile fading from her face. ‘You’ve supported me since I’ve returned.’ continued Leliana ‘And your kindness is something I will never forget. But that aside, I am attracted to you Alistair. I always have been, ever since we met in Lothering. Secretly I envied your interest in Sierra. And I understand this is a situation that perhaps I cannot hope to explore, but I needed you to hear how I feel about you. I’m not the type of person to suppress my desires, and I feel them strongly for you.’

Alistair rose from his desk, moving over to Leliana as she stood to meet him. He drew his large hands over hers and squeezed them affectionately. ‘You stir me greatly. I’ve felt so ashamed of these feelings because I didn’t know if you felt them too?’

‘Alistair, how could I not?’ laughed Leliana ‘You’re incredibly handsome and funny and caring and altogether wonderful!’

The king grinned. 'You’re just trying to get me into your bed again!’

‘Well that was my intention.’ replied Leliana wickedly, causing Alistair’s cheeks to flush once more.

‘I've always cared about you.’ confessed Alistair ‘You know I’ve hardly eaten in weeks now as I’ve wandered around in this confusion. It’s annoying, but then again it tells me these feelings for you are real.

‘No food? Even kirschtorte?’ teased Leliana.

Alistair raised his brows in surprise. ‘Of course not, I love kirschtorte with all my heart.’ he teased. ‘Look, I don’t know what _this is_ but I know I want to explore whatever _this is_ with you. But you realise I am the king’. He rolled his eyes in annoyance. ‘As Eamon likes to say fifty times a day; _there are expectations_.’

‘Like marrying Theresa of Gwaren?’ acknowledged Leliana sadly. ‘Yes, I suspected that might be the case.’

Alistair appeared surprised. ‘No, that is not the case at all. I mean, what sort of man would I be to continue courting Theresa when I have feelings for you?’. Pointing to the letter he had been writing, Alistair frowned. ‘The reason I was writing to Theresa was to arrange a meeting. A meeting in order for me to tell her face to face that I desire to end our courtship.’. His brown eyes drew to Leliana. ‘There is something I would ask of you but I fear to? It’s the only way though, if I wish to pursue this. Royal protocol requires me to court in an official manner, so this is my only option. And I know you have been through so much already and the last thing you would want to do is entertain this. But in earnest, I care for you. So the only solution I can see…’. His voice trembled as he attempted to say what was in his heart. ‘…is to court you, Leliana.’

Leliana’s eyes grew wide, shocked by the proposition. ‘You’re…_you’re being serious?_ You wish to court me? And not Theresa of Gwaren?’

‘Yes, of course!’ laughed Alistair ‘If you wish to court me? _Please say yes._’

Clasping his jaw tenderly, Leliana stood on her tippy toes and placed a sensuous kiss on Alistair’s lips. The Ferelden responded willingly, his hands falling to her waist as the pair embraced.

‘So that’s a yes?’ asked Alistair in a low voice, his lips pressing into her cheek and back to her lips once more.

‘Alistair, that’s a definite _yes_.’ whispered back Leliana. Her hands ran fondly to his chest, as if enjoying the feel of his firm body against her fingers. ‘But only if you let me take you somewhere special for our first courting.’

Alistair appeared amused. ‘You wish to take the king somewhere on our first outing? That’s my job.’

Leliana shook her head seriously. ‘No, you’ve done so much for me and now it’s my turn. I want to spoil you Alistair. _And it begins now_.’

With a grin she placed another kiss on his lips, laughing as he swept her up in his strong arms.


	145. Pangs of Conscience

Tears fell onto the cold stone floor as I sat before the Eluvian. It was a beautiful piece, with ornate elven twisted metal with a silvery-blue hue, that surrounded a mirror. In the silence you could almost hear a soft hum emitting from it’s crystal clear depths. 

Clutching my arm, thanks to Jowan now heavily bandaged and smelling of elfroot and comfrey, it served as a reminder of what I was truly dealing with here. Our involvement with the templars was dangerous. My involvement with Cullen was perhaps even more perilous? And at this very moment I knew neither could be trusted.

A cold sunlight slowly crossed the stone as an hour passed, and midday transformed to afternoon. Struck down by the day’s events, I was unwilling to pick myself off the floor. Instead I stared angrily into the Eluvian that reflected an image that stared angrily back at me.

_Never again would my blood be spilled by a templar._

Failing to hear the door open, I was startled to see Michel de Chevin’s figure appear in the reflection. The chevalier was in his plate armour, with a woollen cloak wrapped around his shoulders, and his long blond hair tied neatly back.

‘_Ophelia_?’ he called out uncertainly, peering into the dark room. ‘My apologies, I assumed no one was in here? The templars advised me that the Eluvian had arrived this morning.’

The chevalier took a hesitant step into the room, his steps echoing loudly.

‘What are you doing sitting on the floor?’ he asked precariously.

His concerned face could be seen in the mirror. Hastily I wiped my eyes and turned back to the mirror.

‘I was curious to see the Eluvian myself.’ I replied casually ‘It’s a remarkable looking glass. The reflection appears like any other mirror, and yet there’s something about it that feels different. Very different.’

The chevalier approached, his slow steps echoing in the room as he stood before the mirror.

‘I recall the first time seeing one of these with Empress Celene.’ he observed pensively, eyeing the mirror with reserve. ‘The Eluvians were created by ancient magic. Naturally Celene was obsessed by them. What she sanctioned me to do in order to learn it’s secrets was wrong and I can see that now. Clan Virnehn died because of my foolishness and I vowed never to go near an Eluvian after that time. It appears that sworn promises can be broken?’

Noticing the bandage on my arm, he lifted his brows in surprise.

‘Goodness, you’ve been injured!’ he exclaimed, turning towards me. ‘And you’re crying? What happened?’

Shaking my head, I did not wish to get into this discussion with Michel de Chevin.

‘No, I’m fine. It just hurts and I was upset for a moment there because of the pain.’ I lied ‘‘It doesn’t matter what happened.’

‘It matters to me.’ argued Michel, crouching down to inspect my arm. ‘Can you move it? Is there anything I can do?’

‘It’s fine.’ I dismissed.

The chevalier remained crouched before me, drawing my attention to his concerned face. ‘Ophelia, _what happened?_’

‘Forgive me for not wanting to confide in the man who thinks I’m a depraved mage.’ I replied shortly, picking myself up from the ground. Roughly I yanked down the sleeve of my coat to conceal the large bandage.

Michel cast his eyes over my torn knitted coat, and I noticed his line of sight went to the large hole at my elbow. An unfortunate incident that occurred when my mabari hound decided to use my coat as a chew toy.

‘It does the job.’ I explained self-consciously, pulling the coat across so the hole wasn’t so exposed. ‘A little tat isn’t so bad. Even for this threadbare apostate.’

‘I wasn’t judging you.’ apologised Michel, adding a little softer in tone. ‘I just worried you might be cold in here?’. He breathed out and a frosty plume lingered in the air. ‘Look. It’s freezing in here.’

Unclasping his woollen navy cloak swiftly, the chevalier attempted to drape it around my shoulders. I took a step back to avoid contact with the garment.

‘There’s no need for that. You’ll be cold yourself without it. Better to keep it yourself.’

Michel shook his head defiantly. ‘No, I’ll manage. Take it.’

Wondering why the Orlesian was being so gracious after our hostile meeting in Denerim, my feet subconsciously took another suspicious step back.

‘I’m fine.’

The chevalier frowned, suddenly pulling a coin pouch from his belt. His blue eyes looked sympathetically at me as he offered it to me. ‘Here, it’s at least two hundred gold coins. It’s nothing to me. Please, your mages need it. You need it.’

‘Why are you offering money?’ I asked in embarrassment. ‘I don’t seek your charity, Michel.’

The Orlesian held the pouch determinedly in his hand. ‘This is but change. Please Ophelia. You stand here with large holes in your coat as you freeze in the cold, and have barely enough food. You live as a pauper would in the streets of Lydes.’

Laughing at the comment, I was thankful to see the humour in an otherwise morbid situation. ‘Ironically it’s the sacrifice we made so many of us could live here and not on the streets of Lydes.’

Michel refused to smile as he continued to hold the pouch towards me. ‘You have children here that could use this.’

‘Yes, one hundred and fifteen children live here at the keep, many of them abandoned by their families.’ I acknowledged. ‘They are seen as lost causes. Their gifts mean they can’t grow up like any non-mage would and learn a trade from their families. The arcane gifts tend to cause more trouble than good, and so these children are considered useless. And expendable.’

‘These children have grown up with nothing.’ Michel acknowledged seriously.

‘It will take more than two hundred groschen to fix that situation I’m afraid.’ I replied. Sighing, I threw a nod at the man. ‘I appreciate the gesture Michel, but I cannot take your money.’

The chevalier reattached his pouch to his belt, displeased at my refusal of his offer. ‘It is my duty as a chevalier to aid the less fortunate. I will find a way to further aid your cause. If not in the spirit of charity, then for my own selfish reasons. I was like the children here. Alone and hungry in a world that did not care that I was either.

Curious at the sentiment, I was confused as to why Michel was suddenly revealing his compassion rather than his judgement? Did he forget that he disliked mages? Or that the Maker’s fallen lived in this keep?

‘Many of the children here have lived lives similar to your childhood, no doubt.’ I replied ‘In fact, we even have some city elves here. Jowan and I go twice a year to the main cities to seek any unwanted mages. Varric has helped us using his network to find these mages. He’s done a lot for us.’

Michel nodded. ‘Yes, his heart is in the right place. I did not think for a second before giving him Montbrun Apiary.’

‘_What_?’

My eyes darted to the chevalier who appeared surprised at my sudden question.

‘Montbrun Apiary?’ repeated Michel in confusion. ‘Where the bees make their hives. We in Orlais call them a rucher. You know, for collecting honey? Montbrun Apiary makes your Magi Mead.’

Feeling like someone had hurled a magic missile at me, I stared in shock at the chevalier.

‘Are you saying….?’

Michel nodded, apparently still perplexed at my confusion. ‘I gifted my Apiary in Alyons to your mage guild several years back. Varric came to me for aid and I was more than happy to provide that place.’. The chevalier sighed, shaking his head in frustration. ‘I initially offered him money, but he said you’d never accept it and would certainly have your suspicions of where it came from. Varric didn’t have the means to buy an apiary in Orlais, they are highly sought after you know? So I offered him mine. It has been used for centuries to make some of the best honey in Orlais. I was more than happy to provide the labour and materials, it was the least I could do?’

‘Varric never told me. He just said he bought an apiary in Orlais from a connection he met through The Hanged Man.’ I stammered. A warm heat filled my cheeks as I realised this man before me had aided us greatly and we’d never said a word of thanks. All I had done was berated him and mocked him behind his back. Feeling awful at my behaviour, I looked to the chevalier.

‘I don’t know what to say?’ I confessed. Deep down, however, I knew exactly what I needed to say. ‘_Ir abelas, ma melava halani an belamas vol arlen’tha.’_

_I am sorry, you have helped me and I have deceived you._

Michel’s blue eyes sparkled with a hopeful light, and a small smile formed on his lips as he heard me speak elvish.

_‘Ma serannas falon_, but you have not deceived me.’ he replied gently.

‘It feels like I have?’

My apologetic green eyes caught his, silently conveying what I meant. I had deceived him many years ago when I claimed our love was impenetrable from outside influences. As a lover I had deceived him in the worst possible way.

‘I know.’ acknowledged Michel quietly. ‘Despite the sadness I felt I never wished you hardship. When Varric came to me I did not hesitate to offer aid.’

‘Any other person would have? You had every right to turn Varric away and release the hounds on him.’ I replied in disbelief.

Concealing a smile with his hand, it was clear the chevalier found some amusement in that scenario. ‘Well perhaps I wanted to but feared a terribly lewd novel would have been written in my honour. Varric likes to threaten me with such things now and then.’

Chuckling, I knew there was likely some truth in those words. ‘Michel thank you for aiding us. On behalf of Jowan and I, and all the mages here. You’re the reason our guild was able to survive.’

‘No. You, Jowan and Varric were that reason. I just offered an apiary.’ replied Michel. He lowered his eyes, as if something else weighed heavily on his mind. ‘_Ir abelas falon_.’ he murmured in elvish, appearing terribly apologetic as he looked up once more.

‘Why are you saying that to me?’ I frowned, recognising his elvish meant; _I’m sorry, my friend._

The chevalier grasped his hands together, as if praying for forgiveness. ‘Ophelia, I must apologise for how I acted towards you in Denerim the other month. My anger got the better of me and it was you who suffered for it. Rough were my manners and I am ashamed to recount what I said. But no gentleman could rightly stand here and not apologise for such cruel words. Without any evidence I accused you and your mages of being a rebel group promoting blood magic. And that is clearly not the case. I shamed you for showing disrespect to the Chantry. _But how could you act in any other way?_ When you have been the charitable ones to these mages, and the Chantry has offered nothing? They are a religious group built upon charity and love to all people. Yet I see now how hypocritical the Chantry is. They have targeted your mages, mistreated your kind and now appear to be satisfied to neglect all mages. It is reprehensible to think such a thing could happen, now that I see what actually occurs in Skyhold. The Mage Order of Southern Thedas represents mercy to those that society has turned away from. You and Jowan are angels, not demons.’

‘You might be the first non-mage who has ever referred to us angels rather than demons.’ I mused.

Michel shook his head in disbelief. ‘You had every right to feel betrayed by the Chantry and the Templar Order. And Thedas. They’ve done nothing for your altruistic endeavour. And yet now they come asking for aid? _How dare they?_’. He drew an agitated hand through his blonde hair. ‘_How dare I?_ After all this time away I return to insult you. You have every right to think I am a fake person. Only a fake person salutes the guilty and bends to their will. That is what I am doing here for the Chantry. Aiding them with the Eluvians. I apologise for this request that my Emperor has asked of me. My hands are bound and I am loathed to be of aid to this group that has treated you so poorly. Please forgive my judgement of you, and my misguided words.’

Looking at him seriously, I knew there was more to it than misguided beliefs. ‘You and I were at odds long before _The Mage Order of Southern Thedas_. You can apologise to me and I can apologise to you of our heated words the other day, but we both know the real reason behind it?’

The chevalier nodded silently in understanding. ‘Yes, there is much more between you and I than harsh words.’. He shifted uneasily, his blue eyes looking to the window as if appealing to the Maker. ‘I left you in Redcliffe because I knew I could not win your affection.’ he admitted. ‘When you were laying there unconscious in the castle, we had dinner one night. Cullen, Alistair and I. King Alistair sat there as your husband. Cullen sat there as your ex-fiancé. And I as…_nothing_.’. He threw a dark look at me, his blue eyes no longer shining. ‘I was heartbroken Ophelia. You betrayed our love to a man you did not even admire. How could you have slept with Alistair? And fallen pregnant? How, when the last time we were together you had declared that your love was for me and for me alone?’

Drawing my hands to my face, it was painful to think back on that time even after so many years. ‘I loved you back in Denerim and I meant every word I said to you in your chambers that morning after my wedding. You left for Orlais and I found myself alone once more. Alone and vulnerable. And the next thing I knew I was presented with a situation where Alistair wanted intimacy.’

‘Something you promised me you would never do.’ recalled Michel.

‘I succumbed to a moment of weakness and have paid for it dearly ever since.’ I replied lowly. ‘I can’t sit here and say I’m blameless. I wasn’t forced into sleeping with him. It just happened. And even to this day I bitterly regret it.’

‘That’s it?’ asked Michel, clearly not satisfied with my answer. ‘That’s all you have to say about it?’

‘Alistair was my husband and shared a room with me. You didn’t think he’d try at some point to bed me? Well he did, and at the time I was dealing with a lot of issues. Being back in Skyhold after so much time was harder than I believed it to be. My lack of judgement resulted in an untimely interlude with the King of Ferelden.’

‘So Cullen upset you and you reacted.’ observed Michel in accusation, guessing rightly what had occurred.

‘Perhaps?’ I muttered. ‘He, Leliana and Valahorn were a family. I was upset and Alistair was there when I needed-‘

‘-_fornicating_?’ suggested Michel bitterly.

‘Comforting.’ I corrected shortly. Frowning at the Orlesian, I shook my head. ‘I’ll be the first to admit I mistake intimacy for caring at times. Perhaps I did sleep with Alistair for that desire to feel cared for? I now know that misguided sense of caring never lasts, as was evident with Alistair and my inability to rid myself of his rightful heir. He changed his cheerful demeanour very fast and I arrived at Redcliffe Castle realising exactly what it meant to be the Queen of Ferelden. Mage cuffs, locked bedrooms and all.’

Michel appeared pained, his face turning away. ‘_Fenedhis lasa, Alistair._’ he cursed under his breath.

‘I had come to a decision to flee Ferelden and leave Alistair. Whether you believe me or not, I would have urged you to flee with me to Orlais. Well that was my plan before I discovered you’d already been exiled from Ferelden. You realise I tried to escape at Redcliffe Castle? I failed. But the next chance I had I would have tried again. I knew deep down that Cullen was bound to a child of his own, and a woman that would never let him go. If it were not for Sapientes things would have been different.’

‘So you would have chosen me by default?’ muttered Michel.

‘That is not what I said.’ I replied quietly ‘It matters little now. I feel like I’ve been punished enough for my choices in life Michel. I feel like three years on I am entitled to live a life without guilt.’

‘Naturally we have all moved on, that is the way of life.’ sighed Michel. His face appeared downcast as he refused to look at me. ‘I’m sorry Ophelia, I know I betrayed you also. Leaving as I did when you were on your deathbed has plagued me. Many nights I’ve dreamt of your corpse haunting me in my sleep. A cold hand grasping at me in my chambers, never allowing me rest.’. The chevalier shook his head, as if the images had scarred him. ‘Never once did I inquire personally after you, even when Varric came to me regarding business with the apiary. Each time I avoided the question. My mind shut you out and I succumbed to a general air of malaise. My sadness has never fully left, I am ashamed to admit. Perhaps as we grow older the pain gets harder to bear? Perhaps we become more aware of the pain?’

‘There’s some truth in that.’ I acknowledged sadly. ‘That’s how I’ve felt over the last few years.’

Michel shook his head miserably. ‘I am sorry to hear that.’

‘It’s best not to dwell on the sadder points of life.’ I muttered. ‘It helps to be grateful for what we have. Despite everything, I have a healthy daughter that I love with all my heart. And I have saved a lot of lives through this endeavour here in Skyhold.’

Noticing Michel’s sympathetic look, I nodded in encouragement.

‘You are now remarried to a beautiful Orlesian noblewoman and I suspect you have everything that you have ever wanted.’ I pointed out, determined for some strange reason to comfort his misery, even at the expense of my own. ‘Look at me? I live off scraps in a frozen old keep. I’m all alone up here, aside from a slobbering mabari that I share my bed with. My child is kept from me, destined to grow up without me. And I had to leave my cat back in Denerim Palace.’. Playfully I held up my sleeve with a smile. ‘And I have large holes in my coats that make my elbows quite chilly. You were right! Essentially, I’m just a threadbare apostate. Shabby as can be!’

Breaking out into a sad smile, Michel shook his head. ‘Such careless words to come from my mouth, I’m sorry I called your Order that. It’s far from the truth. You are more than that. You are so much more Ophelia.’

I nodded in encouragement. ‘You are living your happy life now. That should outweigh any guilt or sadness you may have felt. Take comfort in the fact that you have everything a person could ever want.’

The chevalier pondered the words silently, rubbing his jaw in deep thought. Pursing his lips in a feigned smile, the man bowed politely to me.

‘Forgive me, I’ve intruded on your privacy long enough and shall take my leave.’.

With a quick turn, the chevalier hastened across the room. Pausing at the door, he turned back to me. Studying me quietly for a moment, it was if he was deliberating whether to say something or not. Finally, he conceded.

‘You’re wrong Ophelia.’ informed Michel. ‘Quite wrong. Perhaps it appears that I have it all but I don’t have everything that I’ve ever wanted. Not everything.’

****

Marching back to his study in heavy strides, the templars were well aware their Knight-Commander was furious. Cullen wrenched open the door of study and made his way to his desk, pouring a large goblet of water and draining it in several large gulps.

‘I’m sorry you had to deal their insolence, Knight-Commander.’ apologised Arrus. He shook his head in disbelief, drawing a hand to his brow. ‘They both are so volatile. I had no idea? A simple request for their phylacteries was blown way out of proportion.’

‘Get used to it, there’ll be plenty more of that to come.’ replied Cullen angrily. ‘At any opportunity they’ll give us grief. It’s always been the way with these two.’

Catching his breath in surprise, Cullen’s eyes fell to his hands as he just noticed they were covered in red.

‘Fuck me, I’m coated in Trevelyan’s blood.’ he remarked in surprise.

Arrus shifted uneasily, as if he was well aware of the fact and had been for quite some time. ‘A rather unfortunate insertion of the tube. Bloodletting is a tricky business at the best of times. When you have a mage pushing back at you like that it’s no wonder the blood went everywhere. I’m sure it appeared worse than the cut actually was.’

‘I need to wash up.’ replied Cullen darkly ‘You’re dismissed.’

‘Yes Knight-Commander.’

With a salute, Knight-Captain Arrus left Cullen to his room, closing the door behind him.

Cullen roughly flipped the latch of the door lock before pacing the room. The memory of what had just occurred was fresh in his mind and he could not will it away. Furiously he kicked the table, and then turned to punch the wall angrily. The room shuddered dangerously as Cullen laid several more blows into the wood.

‘_FUCK_!’ he yelled out in frustration, looking down to his throbbing fist covered in Ophelia’s blood.

His heart raced as he thought back to the moment he had held her arm tight in his hand, his fingers pressing so hard her skin turned white under his digits. He recalled the stirring he felt as he cut her skin and drained her blood. She didn’t want him to do it but his position as a Knight-Commander permitted him to. It was not an act that he should have enjoyed.

_But he did._

Loosening his belt, the Commander removed the leather strap and his red sash and placed the articles of clothing onto the table. Reaching into his trousers he groaned, easing out his stiffened cock that had been filling with blood ever since the dreadful act. Cullen recalled how hard his cock grew as he ran the blade across her skin, looking into her eyes as he bestowed upon her pure pain. He wanted to draw the moment out. He didn’t want it to stop.

His amber eyes fixated on his blood splatted hand as he began to savagely stroke his cock. It was fully erect, veins protruding and flushed with blood, and harder than he’d ever felt it before. Pumping his fist, he focused on his hard-on being rubbed. His thumb brushed over the bulging head of his cock, a dewy drop of white liquid revealing from his slit as his club threatened to erupt.

_‘Fuck…..fuck….fuck_.’ he moaned in pleasure, increasing the intensity of each stroke.

In that manic moment Cullen worshipped the hand that was coated in Ophelia’s blood, now savagely edging him closer to his release. The idea of her blood covering his dick made him moan in agony as he quickened the pace.

Deeply he stroked his perverse ache, desperately wishing he could have fucked Ophelia in that room as soon as he had removed the tube from her arm. Blood spilling from her as he sunk his dick into her cunt, fucking her senseless. Ravaging her vulnerability with his hard girth and hungry mouth.

Pumping his veiny shaft, the Commander groaned in ecstasy as he erupted in several large spurts of semen. His pleasure was released, coating his bloodied hands in sticky white cream.

Breathlessly Cullen panted heavily in his chest, lowering his sandy head in defeat. He knew there was no way of taming the beast within. His filthy desires screamed out to be sated. Knavish and obscene in his libidinous nature, he was a miscreant.

Cullen knew what he wanted.

_There could be no other way._


	146. Alms and Envy

_The day won’t stop as long as there’s light. _

_The day doesn’t stop for a unfair fight. _

_The day cannot stop for wrong or right. _

_So I choose to live in the night…._

My time alone with the Eluvian enabled me to reflect on what path I was venturing down. Call it a wakeup call, for that’s what it felt like. For Jowan’s sake, and my own, we needed to defeat Sapientes. We needed the resources of the Templars to ensure this could happen with ease. When our children were safe we could worry about the Templars coming after us. For they would, there was no doubt in my mind. After the templars were dealt with, I would come for my daughter and take her away from Ferelden.

As for striking up relationships with Knight-Commanders of the Templar Order, I knew it was foolish. And not worth the risk.

There was one more detour to be made before commencing work for the day. On one hand it wasn’t imperative to make this detour but on the other hand it was essential that it be done now.

As I made my way across the courtyard in Skyhold and passed the growing ivy creeping up the wall of the keep, I was well aware how much _had _changed since I had arrived here many years ago. The stables had been upgraded for one. The leaking roof of the keep had been patched. And fresh flags flapped in the wind, now bearing the coat of arms of our guild. Jowan and I had worked hard to create a new chapter for the mages. It was our mission. And while once upon a time Jowan and I had been on different paths, we had now changed.

_I had changed._

No more did I exist desperately hoping to be in the good graces of the Commander of the Inquisition. Long had been the days of fearing the wrath of Cassandra and Leliana, jumping to their orders no matter the cost. I didn’t feel like the lost girl in the woods, stumbling to escape the trees. That girl had grown up and found her own way out of the woods without the help of anyone else.

Arriving at Cassandra’s old study I knocked loudly and entered without waiting, finding Cullen inside working at his desk. The room was cluttered with piles of documents and books, chests and weapons; all brought over from Caer Bronach yet still to find a proper place in the room.

‘Arrus, you can take these annual reports. They need to be sent to The White Spire. Knight-Vigilante Robard has been asking for them for weeks now, Maker knows he’ll be wondering where in the blazes they’ve got to.’

My silence caused Cullen to look up, perhaps wondering why his Knight-Captain refused to respond. The Commander arose from his seat guardedly, as if undetermined whether I came in as friend or foe.

‘Ophelia, I didn’t realise-' he began.

‘Please just listen.’ I informed sharply, cutting the templar off before he had a chance to talk his way out of what had happened. ‘Let’s keep this civil. I want you to know what happened just before with the phylacteries was _unacceptable_.’

‘Maker’s breath…’ Cullen muttered to himself. The Commander sighed impatiently as he drummed his knuckles on the desk. ‘Okay out with it. Clearly you’re upset but I’d advise you don’t let emotion play into this. Cassandra ordered us to take your phylacteries. That is a fact and something that you agreed to back in Denerim. I’ve little choice when it comes to my duties as Knight-Commander.’

‘You had a choice as to how you performed it.’ I retorted angrily. Lifting my arm, I held it towards him. ‘You injured me and then walked out the _fucking door_ without a skerrick of concern. What sort of maniac are you?’ 

‘Glad to hear you’re keeping this civil.’ muttered Cullen.

‘Fuck you.’ I muttered back.

The Templar shifted in annoyance, his amber eyes glaring angrily at me. ‘What did you expect I would do? Kiss it better in front of everyone? Fall to my knees and beg your forgiveness? Give me a break Ophelia; you’re not a damn child so stop acting like one. Of course I was concerned but I’d hardly call a nick on your arm an injury worth risking my position for.’

Unable to comprehend his indifference I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Are you hearing yourself?! I’m sorry…_I can’t do this_. You being a Templar and me being a mage is never going to work. It’s over.’

The Commander sighed, sitting down again at his desk as he drew another document before him. ‘You don’t mean that.’ he replied dismissively, flicking his quill before proceeding to write. ‘You’re emotional and speaking in anger. I’m sorry it went the way it did, but you and Jowan made the matter so much worse with your ridiculous fake bottles of blood and utter contempt for our duties. Don’t tell me that was your blood, I’m not that naive. And don’t insult me with your lies when all I’m doing is my job. I can’t be seen making allowances for you in front of my men. I told you from the beginning that I can’t show you any sympathy before my Order and I meant it. It’s too risky.’

‘Jowan was right about you.’ I scorned ‘You’re treating me like a bathhouse whore.’

Amused at the comment, Cullen looked up from his work. ‘Is that Jowan’s assessment? I suppose he’d be the expert on that subject. Please enlighten me how I treat you like a bathhouse whore?’

My green eyes appealed to Cullen’s but all I got in return was a glint of malice, as if he was furious but refusing to show the full extent of his emotions. ‘I’m just a shameful secret to you, aren’t I? Someone to get you off and then you’re free to go about your day. But there’s no love here. There’s no relationship.’

‘You’re unwise to listen to that snake, Jowan’s merely interested in keeping his control over you.’ warned Cullen sternly. ‘Don’t think he doesn’t have an ulterior motive when handing out his advice about our relationship.’

‘What ulterior motive?’ I scoffed.

Cullen chuckled. ‘Oh I don’t know? An escaped blood mage with no ties to the Ferelden throne somehow manages to weasel himself and his child into the good graces of Denerim palace. And now the King of Ferelden raises his child. Your friend has an unusual knack of riding on coattails.’

‘Yes look at him living the high life up here in Skyhold with me.’ I observed sarcastically.

Cullen shook his head. ‘You’re blind to Jowan’s influence. But a man can see another man’s agenda a mile away. That mage friend of yours pulls your strings and controls you more than I ever dared. He’s threated by anyone coming close to you and still you fail to see this as a problem? Maker help me, I fear how much damage has been done? Several years alone with Jowan and look at you? A maleficar willing to dabble in blood magic.’

‘No, he cares about me.’ I corrected the templar. ‘While you walked out on me after you drew my blood, Jowan patched me up. Jowan has always been there for me. But let’s not digress with your jealousy. Today when you drew my blood you appeared to enjoy taking my phylactery, didn’t you? If we are to be honest here, tell me you didn’t enjoy doing that?’

A slight flicker of his amber eyes towards me was all I needed as affirmation.

‘Cullen, I refuse this to be like it was during the Inquisition.’ I warned.

The Commander scoffed. ‘Remind me? How terrible was it for you, Opehlia?’

‘I’m not your submissive anymore. My pain will not serve you as some titillation. My pain is real and I don’t like feeling it. You’re not playing that role with me.’

‘As you wish.’ Cullen replied calmly, appearing indifferent at my decision. Looking up from his work he threw me a sharp nod. ‘If that’s all I have work to do.’

‘I mean it Cullen. You’ve had your last moment of pleasure at my expense. The man I saw drawing blood. The man I see now before me. That’s not someone I can trust to have my best interests. I’m sorry but I can’t be with you.’

‘If that is your decision then so be it. You can show yourself out.’ informed Cullen bluntly. His eyes fell to the document before him as if he were more interested in his work and didn’t want the interruption.

In disgust, I turned away to leave. There was nothing more to be said. Flashing him a disappointed look I left the study, yet I was also relieved. It was over before any real harm had been done. At least I could be thankful for that.

‘Don’t be a fool and let him into your life every again.’ I muttered to myself as I pushed my way past a group of Templars in the courtyard.

****

The cold breeze of a Frostback morning awoke Michel yet he sprung out of bed with a smile. Rubbing his messy blond hair, he breathed in the fresh air that was blowing through the window.

‘_Magnifique_.’ he exclaimed, drawing several more deep breaths into his chest.

Rose moaned tiredly as the chevalier whistled a tune, stoking the fire in their chambers before dressing himself for the day.

‘What time is it?’ yawned Rose.

Michel smiled as he buckled his metal greaves. ‘Well before your normal waking hours, _mar’alath. _It’s nearly five o’clock. Sunrise is a little earlier here so high up in the mountains. You should sleep, there is no need to get up yet.’

His wife sat up and pulled on a pale blue robe draped on the bed. ‘I’m already awake. I can make you some tea if you like?’

Pulling his breastplate over his head, the chevalier shook his head politely. ‘No thankyou my love, I’m meeting Commander Cullen at the main hall for breakfast. We’re to train with the Templars this morning. He thought it would help if I got to train with the men and women we seek to travel with into the Fade. Get to know everyone and learn their fighting techniques. Polish it up a bit, like we used to in the old days.’

Rose tapped her lip with a small smile, noticing how happy Michel appeared. ‘Then I wish you a lovely day, _mon cher_.’

‘And you also.’ replied Michel graciously. He was about to depart when a sudden thought came to his mind. ‘Oh one more thing - I’m expecting a delivery today. Would you be so kind as to sign for me? These merchants always wish proof that their produce has been delivered.’

Unaware of what her husband was talking about, Rose tilted her head curiously. ‘What are you expecting to be delivered up here in such an isolated place?’

‘Oh nothing really,’ dismissed Michel ‘I sent a carrier bird to Alexandre a few days back to arrange some supplies to be sent from Jader. Fresh vegetables and some dry rations. You must have noticed how poor the food rations are up here?’

‘Surely Skyhold’s food supply is not your responsibility?’ observed Rose in surprise.

Michel shook his head. ‘It’s just a few things. There are hungry mages here, I cannot in good faith stand by and watch them starve while I eat their rations also.’

Noticing his wife’s slight irritation, Michel frowned.

‘You find my actions offensive?’

Her pursed red lips were all the answer he needed. ‘Michel it is not your responsibility to care for these _mages_. Or should I say one mage in particular?’

The chevalier lifted his brows in surprise. ‘_Mar’alath_ this has nothing to do with Ophelia. It has to do with the terrible poverty I’ve witnessed here. It’s about the hardships that my friends are enduring without respite. I have a history with a lot of these mages from when I worked in the Inquisition and consider them allies.’ 

‘But why help them now?’ pressed Rose, clearly unconvinced. ‘If this was such a concern, why did you not help them sooner?’

‘I have.’ replied Michel soundly. ‘Varric came to me several years ago and asked me for help in acquiring an apiary for the mages up here. He was hoping to help the Order secure finances through one of his business ventures. Starting up a distillery for mead. He needed a place to ferment his honey so I gave him Montbrun Apiary. I’ve been helping these mages for years.’

‘You gave them your own lands? And you kept that secret from me?’ remarked Rose in surprise. She shook her head in slight annoyance. ‘Mon cher, I’m your wife. Why have you not told me this until now? Do your true feelings seek to betray me?’

Michel sighed, sitting on the bed beside her. ‘Mon Cherie, we have only been married for a few months. There has been hardly any time for us to enjoy being newlyweds, let alone time to inform you of all my business ventures. And perhaps I knew you would have jumped to conclusions and I did not wish to upset you? You were not so fond of mages. I recall you saying so when we first met.’

‘You know why. Jean-Claude took pride in being a templar.’ replied Rose seriously. ‘He warned me of the dangers of magic and mages. His opinions have always been close to my heart.’

Michel nodded politely. ‘I know my love, you cared for your cousin greatly. But you know I cannot escape my past? There was a time when my place was here, and I worked with the mages and the templars. They were my comrades. And Varric is a good friend and always lifted my spirits during the Inquisition. He was at our wedding, if you recall? I wanted to help him and everyone up here. Years ago he came to me asking for aid and I could not turn him away. I would not do that to a friend. So I gave him my apiary so that he, and the mages of Skyhold, could make their mead. And it appears their venture has become quite successful. Apart from that I’ve done nothing to help the mages until now. A few carts of food is hardly overdoing it. It’s nothing but a few lettuces and sacks of grain.’

Rose threw a feigned smile to her husband. ‘Of course, you are right. I am sorry for my reaction.’

Placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek, Michel smiled back at her. ‘How you manage to be so beautiful even when you are displeased is beyond me? I must go, but we shall speak of this more when I come home this evening. I love you Rose. Only you. Never doubt my heart, _mar’alath_.

With that the chevalier grabbed his sword and departed for day, leaving his wife alone in their bed.

***

The gates of Skyhold swung open that morning to welcome dozens of wooden carts filled to the brim with dried and fresh foods. Their squeaky wheels rattled over the cobblestone and came to a halt in the courtyard. Our collective of mages were perplexed, and in turn so too were the Templars. None of us knew where such a delivery came from and who it was for? At the insistence of the deliverers, the supplies were to be received by the mages of Skyhold.

As large sacks of grain and flour were being slung into the larders, I decided to interrogate one of the delivery men. One look at his clip board informed me that the culprit was none other than Michel de Chevin.

Determined to find the chevalier for several matters that I now needed to discuss, I searched the main keep and lower courtyard to no avail. Arriving at the courtyard gardens, I finally spotted another who I knew may be privy to more information.

Swept into an elegant pose of blush pink silk, Rose de Chevin was nestled on a stone bench and reading in the sun. Her fingers twirled a loose blonde curl as she appeared lost in the words of her story, casually turning a page as she consumed the words hungrily. She looked up in surprise as my shadow fell over her book.

‘Oh, good morning.’ she smiled politely, closing her book. ‘Is it not a wonderful day? The morning sun in this garden is positively healing.’

Slightly perplexed, I nodded as if I too agreed. ‘Ah yes, it’s truly wonderful. Actually I was wondering if you know where I can find your husband? I’ve searched the keep high and low.’

‘Michel is training with the Templars this morning.’ informed Rose, pointing in the direction of the outer encampment. ‘He left with Commander Cullen after breakfast but beyond that I could not say where they went?’

Her attention fell back onto her book which she opened quite suddenly. I wondered whether it was done intentionally?

‘Do you know anything about the supplies delivered to Skyhold?’ I asked curiously. ‘Three dozen carts of food have arrived this morning and we’re not entirely sure why?’

Rose turned a page, and continued to read.

‘He goes above and beyond, my Michel.’ she observed a little more quietly. ‘It’s hard for a wife to see her husband extend himself so much for another person’s cause. Especially when it is you, Ophelia.’

Sensing the atmosphere growing thicker by the second, I decided to tread lightly.

‘It was Michel then? He was responsible for the supplies arriving?’

‘Yes.’ affirmed Rose. ‘He was concerned about the lack of food here. You know what he’s like, always eager to fix things. Even when they are not his problems to fix.’

My grip tensed, knowing now where this conversation was heading. ‘Of course these are not his problems to fix, you’re right. It is very generous but completely unexpected. On behalf of the Mage Order, thank you for your generosity.’

A crease on her brow formed on her otherwise perfect complexion as Rose looked up at me. ‘I was none the wiser of this gesture until a few hours ago.’ she informed crisply. ‘One cannot imagine why Michel would take it upon himself to feed your entire keep for the next goodness knows how long?’

‘I imagine the many elvish children here most definitely would have struck a chord with him?’ I suggested, keen to placate the woman who was clearly growing more irritated. ‘He feels very strongly about city elves, given he was one himself.’

‘Do not speak so loudly about things that should not be publicly known.’ whispered Rose. Flashing her eyes around the garden, it was apparent she was clearly worried someone might have overheard. ‘Never speak of his past so openly. Has he not made that clear to you?’

‘Uh…I thought since we both knew of his past it could be spoken between ourselves?’ I replied in surprise. ‘Look all I’m saying is, his elven ties are personal to him. But it’s…not personal between Michel and I. If that’s what you’re thinking?’

‘It’s always personal for Michel.’ muttered Rose, returning to her book. ‘A chevalier has no interest in mages. Why would an Orlesian Champion to Emperor Gaspard take interest in the pursuits of a Ferelden group of mages? But he cares about your cause. A woman senses these things.’

‘That’s because he’s a good man.’ I persuaded. ‘Michel sees how we struggle up here and wants to help. I know that is the only reason he has chosen to help. It’s not because of anything else.’

Rose threw me a fake smile.

‘Of course.’ she replied politely, clearly unconvinced.

‘Rose, is everything okay?’ I frowned. ‘I would not wish you to think there is anything sinister at play here.’

The Orlesian drew a deep breath as she continued to read her book. ‘I have faith in my husband’s decisions and when we married we swore to honour each other. If this is his decision I will accept it. But your previous relationship with my husband has never given me much concern until I came here and saw his willingness to jump to your aid so soon after his arrival. No wife would not examine the situation without a little reservation.’

‘No matter what he’s said about our relationship in the past, you need to know it was never a perfect union.’ I replied delicately. ‘We weren’t good as a couple. He must have told you about us and how we moved on? I ended up marrying the King of Ferelden and having a child with him. Caerwyn, Alistair and I were a family. All this has happened after Michel.’

Closing her book, she looked up at me with the gracious reservation of emotion that Orlesian nobles were skilled at conveying. ‘Michel told me enough about you that I implored him not to go into great detail.’ she replied icily. Her eyes held mine with confidence. ‘I love my husband but I fear his generosity will always be his weakness. He gave you everything and all you did was take from him until he had nothing left to give. How much are you going to take from him while he is up here trying to help you on this mission?’

Stunned by the directness of the woman, I felt wrongly accused and compelled to defend myself. ‘Rose, with all due respect I’ve never asked for a single coin from Michel. Not even when we were together. In fact he offered me 200 groschen the other day, to help with the mages, and I declined it.’

‘He offered you 200 groschen?’ echoed Rose, clearly shocked. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Of course he did. How could I have thought he would be over you? When I met him he was a man with such promise yet all he felt was grief for the loss of a love that never loved him back.’

My eyes darted to the woman with hesitation. This wasn’t something I felt comfortable talking about with Michel’s wife. ‘Rose…my relationship with Michel…it was complicated. We were living through a hard time with the war against Corypheus. People were dying, emotions were high and relationships were hard to maintain. At the time we cared for each other but now we most definitely don’t.’

‘You didn’t love Michel.’ dismissed Rose. ‘If you loved him you would never have let him go. He would have stayed with you until the very end.’

I frowned. ‘Our Ferelden king played a large part in our separation. Nothing is black and white, and although I take the full blame for Michel’s sadness I know there were mitigating factors. But either way, it’s in the past and you have nothing to fear. You are his wife and he loves you dearly. And I for one have no interest in Michel. Indeed the first thing he mentioned when we reunited was how lucky he was to have met you. We are friends and nothing more. And to be honest, I think a friend is being generous? We are mere acquaintances these days, drawn together by duty. Michel and I have never made contact with each other since he left Redcliffe nearly four years ago. We had no desire to keep in contact.’

Rose held a hand to her cheek, appearing a littled ashamed. Or perhaps she was playing the part of remorse when there was none felt? ‘What a poor display of manners I have shown. I did not mean to come into your keep and act the jealous sort. Michel has given me no real cause to doubt him, I suppose. And you have done nothing.’ She stood from her seat and curtsied politely. ‘Let us keep this between us, yes? A silly conversation that needs not go further than the two of us?’

Nodding uncertainly, I produced some parchment from my satchel. I felt it unwise to track down Michel after this conversation. ‘Could you pass this on to Michel when you have a chance? It’s just some questions I have about the Eluvian that I’d like detailed written notes on, if possible?’

Rose accepted the papers with a sweet smile. ‘I shall give them to him the moment I see him.’

‘Thank you.’ I smiled, desperately trying to muster one that appeared half sincere. ‘Well, I should be off. Enjoy your book. And the sun. And it goes without saying, if you have any concerns please talk to me about it. I don’t wish there to be any misunderstandings between us. Especially when it comes to Michel.’

As Rose turned back to her book I was greatly relieved walking away from the Orlesian, despite feeling her eyes pressed hard against my back.


	147. The Chest of Apologies

On the war table in Skyhold’s war room sat a large oak chest, open and invitingly full of tea, coffee and other sumptuous delights. As it so happened Jowan could not stop smiling in delight. He affectionately grasped a tin of Orlesian Breakfast Tea and breathed in the scent before placing it back to rummage through the chest of goodies.

A creaking of the floor boards made him turn around hastily, clutching a package of jam tarts to his chest with zealous guardedness.

Greatly amused at the sight I beheld as I walked into the war room, I pointed an accusing finger at him. ‘Taking good care of the supplies, are we?’

The mage’s lip curled in satisfaction as he held out an ornate black and gold tin. ‘Smell these. Coffee beans soaked in chocolate and orange liqueur. Is it concerning that Michel de Chevin satisfies even my darkest desires? And look at all this tea! Exquisite tea mind you, none of that dried up garbage we have in the larder.’ The mage tapped on several jars of condiments in delight. ‘Marmalade, strawberry, raspberry, apricot, blackberry _and _rhubarb jam. And look, figs in brandy! I’m drooling. Literally I’m drooling.’

Curiously I rifled through the chest, spotting several dark syrup bottles labelled _Orlesian Caramel_, _Orlesian Sweet Cream and Orlesian Triple Chocolate. _Beside the bottles were blocks of chocolate, an inviting scent of sweetness overwhelming as I opened one of the packages ever so slightly.

‘He donated all this to Skyhold?’ I remarked in surprise. ‘It’s far too generous.’

Jowan laughed at the comment, raising his brow to me. ‘Hang Skyhold, they won’t get a single coffee bean from me. Ophelia, _this particular chest _was labelled specifically for you and I. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Michel de Chevin but keep it up. I haven’t been this excited since coifs went out of fashion.’

Searching the stash I discovered crackers from Lapin, cigars from Val Royeaux and lavender scented soap from Montsimmard. Biting my lip in amusement, I discovered one rolled up blue lamb’s wool jumper nestled between a collection of jams.

‘A jumper.’ I chuckled, understanding the hidden joke.

‘An ugly blue piece of clothing, just what we need.’ the mage observed, rolling his eyes. ‘If we didn’t know who sent all this before we would now. Michel’s left his fashion calling card.’. Jowan tapped his lip as if he didn’t know what to make of it. ‘There’s only one in there. Odd I know, but you might as well wear it. It looks warm.’

‘And what do you know? It has no holes at the elbows.’ I observed to myself. Curious at the gesture of the hamper of goods, I wondered why Michel had made such an effort. ‘He didn’t have to do this. Goodness, don’t let anyone know about this. If Rose finds out…’ 

‘She’ll what?’ asked Jowan curiously. He groaned, shaking his head at me. ‘Don’t tell me you’re at each other already. We need Michel’s stay to go well and as long as possible. Especially now that he is lavishing us with fine gifts. Don’t ruin this for me!’. Jowan laughed. ‘I mean it mutton-head, you have to allow a man to be spoiled once and a while by his favourite chevalier.’

‘Fine, I’ll make sure not to interfere with your gifts from your dashing beau.’ I teased. ‘In regards to Rose, well it’s nothing really. I met her this morning and let’s just say she’s not entirely happy that Michel has taken it upon himself to feed our mages. I believe she thinks he has taken more interest in our cause than he should.’

Jowan appeared indifferent, turning back to explore the chest of goods. ‘If Michel wants to lavish us with sundries then I say _lavish away_! But surely you can see why _le wife_ would be a little reserved? Who are we to her? Strangers living in the mountain that her husband is throwing coin at. And you? The ex-lover. It’s no surprise she’s not dancing an Antivan jig here.’

‘That’s an understatement.’ I muttered. ‘Here I am minding my own business trying to run a keep and everyone is at me with their utter nonsense.’

‘Nonsense?’ frowned Jowan. ‘Did the Templars do something?’. He rolled his eyes impatiently. ‘Let me guess, Cullen did something?’

‘No.’ I dismissed ‘Besides, I ended it with Cullen a few days back. And no I’m not upset about it_._ It had to be done. I’m just sick and tired of seeing Templars in my keep. And dealing with suspicious wives.’

‘You and Cullen?’ remarked Jowan in surprise. ‘As in…completely over?’

‘Yes. It’s over.’ I replied flatly. ‘You needn’t crow over this’.

‘Well this day just keeps on getting better and better.’. Unable to wipe the growing smile of delight from his face, the mage lunged into the chest and retrieved a bottle of claret. Jowan chuckled, opening the bottle with a _pop. _‘This causes for a celebration.’

‘I see you’re torn up by this news.’ I observed dryly.

Running his thin fingers along the top of a nearby residing bookshelf, Jowan grabbed two glasses. ‘Oh it’s terrible news.’ he observed sarcastically. Swiftly pouring the wine, Jowan smiled in satisfaction. ‘Let me guess; was the Commander’s bloodletting the straw that broke the camel’s back? That was it, wasn’t it?’

‘What? You mean Cullen slicing open my arm and then walking out while I bled to death? Yeah I’d call that one largish straw, Jowan.’

Jowan grinned as he handed me a glass. ‘At least you got there in the end.’

Being given a dangerously full glass of claret, Jowan and I were about to clink glasses when a polite _ahem _interrupted us at the open doors of the war room. We turned to see a smiling Orlesian and a smug dwarf beside him.

‘May we interrupt?’ asked Michel politely. ‘I came to see if the delivery arrived.’

‘And I came to stickybeak.’ exclaimed Varric. ‘Not even the end of a business day and you kids are on the plonk!’

‘In Orlais it’s etiquette to abstain until ten in the morning.’ argued Michel playfully. ‘They’ve started late Varric.’

Varric chuckled. ‘Shit we all have, come on then Riddles pour us another two glasses.’

‘Yes come in, come in!’. Jowan beckoned the pair in with wide arms. ‘Michel, I’d just like to say thank you _and I love you_. Your gifts have lifted my spirits far higher than the Maker himself.’

Michel’s jaw grew into a wide grin as he approached us at the war table. ‘I thought you’d appreciate the claret, Jowan.’ he observed warmly. The chevalier peered into the chest with a nod of satisfaction. ‘I came across a delightful boutique last year in Halamshiral who made these wonderful hampers. I’m only glad it has arrived so soon. It makes me happy that I could bring a little joy to your day.’

‘Well you stole my heart with the coffee beans.’ mused Jowan.

I nudged my head to the mage. ‘He’s easily bought, this one.’

Varric whistled, eyeing over the chest of treats. ‘Shit Goldilocks, where’s my bribe? You could have had my heart _and soul_ for half of what these kids have got here.’

Michel placed a hand on his chest. ‘My apologies Varric, I did not insult you in Denerim as I did to them. A hamper full of delicacies is my terribly clichéd Orlesian way of saying _I’m_ _sorry_.’

‘In Kirkwall we just buy a round of the 15 copper whiskey and hope for the best.’ quipped Varric. ‘Best way to say sorry and end up with the worst hangover in your life.’. The rogue crossed his arms in amusement, as if he was already well aware. ‘Now what could you have said to ruffle these mages feathers I wonder?’

‘A simple misunderstanding.’ I dismissed. ‘But I am sorry for what I said to Michel also. Should I send you some Ferelden bannocks and mead?’

Michel shook his head with a pleased smile. ‘That is not necessary.’

‘It probably it is.’ I replied cynically. ‘Especially now since I know _it was you_ who lent your Apiary for our Magi Monk Mead _and not some drunk from The Hanged Man.’_.

My eyes narrowed in on Varric who smiled uneasily, pulling on his chain around his neck.

‘Ah Sparrow, don’t hate me for not telling you it was Goldilocks here who helped us. You know why I didn’t.’

Jowan scoffed, taking another leisurely sip on his claret. ‘As if any of us actually believed Varric happened across a man in _The Hanged Man _that wanted to sell an Orlesian apiary.’

‘It appears Ophelia did.’ observed Michel, throwing me an amused grin.

Rolling my eyes at the chevalier, I knew he was right. ‘Am I a fool for believing anything that comes out of Varric’s mouth? Yes. But all is forgiven.’

‘Keep sending me hampers and I’ll forgive you in about a year or so.’ added Jowan.

Biting down into a jam tart he’d stolen from the chest, the rogue appeared pleased. ‘Sparrow, sometimes you gotta let me work my magic without all the details. The final result was a win-win for everyone.’

Michel turned to the dwarf curiously. ‘How did I win out of this?’ 

Varric tapped his nose. ‘Life time supply of Magi Mead.’

Michel nodded in thanks as he accepted a glass of wine from Jowan. ‘_Merci_. Well consider this my verbal apology to both of you. For casting such judgement on you and your guild back in Denerim. And for insinuating you were _depraved mages._’

‘Takes one to know one.’ I taunted, looking over to Jowan. 

Scrunching his nose at me, Jowan pulled a face.

Michel shrugged, continuing his speech. ‘My point it, I was wrong and as such, I shall offer a toast.’

‘This’ll be good.’ grinned Varric, accepting a glass of claret from Jowan.

The chevalier cleared his throat as he looked seriously to the three of us. ‘In life we often find ourselves pursuing selfish pursuits and assuming roles befitting of our egos rather than our soul’s worth. I strive to walk the honourable and selfless path. Yet I see most do not walk it. To meet three others on such a journey gives me encouragement and fills my heart with pride. A toast to you Jowan, Ophelia and Varric. May your endeavour be fruitful, always. À nos amours!’

‘Cheers.’ chuckled Varric, downing the glass in three gulps. ‘Wow you can really taste the coin in that.’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘Wasted on a dwarf.’

‘To friendship.’ I added, looking to my companions. ‘We need it more than ever these days.’

The rogue snapped his fingers at me. ‘Sparrow, now you’re talking. I got just the toast.’. He cleared his throat and stood tall, lifting his glass to the ceiling. ‘Strike hands with me. The glass is brim. The dew is on the heather. And love is good, and life is long, and friends are best together.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’ I nodded.

Michel drew a sip, silently toasting as if he agreed also.

My eyes accidentally caught the chevalier’s and I threw him an amused grin. ‘A blue jumper?’

The chevalier covered his mischievous smile with his hand. ‘_Ir abelas, _I couldn’t help myself.’

‘Yes I’m sure you’re sorry.’ I replied with narrow eyes, playfully pretending not to be impressed. ‘You didn’t need to do all this but thank you. Besides, I think you’ve made Jowan’s year. And mine? I can’t tell you how much I like Orlesian chocolate.’

‘I remember quite well how much you like it.’ Michel replied with a grin. ‘You always stole the chocolate hidden in my top draw where I kept my shirts.’

‘Sparrow has a tendency to be a thief.’ agreed Varric.

Laughing at the chevalier, I shook my head in defiance. ‘Well you hid it poorly. As I recall it was _you_ that stole my collection of Rowan Vint-Rose because of your shameful love of it.’

Jowan grimaced. ‘The worst red wine in Thedas.’

Michel’s mouth opened in shocked indignation. ‘You swore never to tell a soul about my fondness for that pigswill.’. He grinned, pointed an elegant finger towards me. ‘At least I don’t snore like a hundred nugs.’

Jowan and Varric laughed at the comment. 

‘I don’t snore.’ I protested. ‘It’s personal now Michel, I might take you up on the dual you mentioned in Denerim.’

‘Pistols or rapiers?’ asked Michel in amusement.

‘Both.’ I laughed ‘And a feather to boot.’

The chevalier took another sip of wine. ‘It would be my pleasure.’

‘Goldilocks how many duals have you been involved in?’ inquired Varric ‘A man of your reputation is bound to have seen half a dozen or so at least.’

The chevalier raised his blonde brows in amusement. ‘I have a reputation?’

‘Now now, I meant nothing by it.’ chuckled Varric ‘But you got a heap of titles there and I reckon someone would have tried to take you on at some point.’

‘Such as Arl Teagan?’ suggested Jowan.

‘With feathers.’ dismissed Michel, rolling his eyes.

‘Gaspard?’ I added.

Michel shrugged. ‘It was a challenge between Celene and Gaspard rather than a personal dual.’. He grinned, realising we were eager to hear about his former indiscretions. ‘Mon dieu, you are all keen for blood.’

‘So not one duel?’ asked Varric doubtfully. He grinned, clicking his fingers at the chevalier. ‘You and Curly, outside _The Herald’s Rest_.’

‘Something I won’t venture to do again.’ observed the chevalier. Michel swigged back his wine in several more gulps and placed it on the war table delicately. With a smile, he bowed to us politely. ‘On that note, I think I shall retire. I should not keep my lovely wife waiting. Rose will be arranging some dinner for us, no doubt.’

With a merry salute to us, he marched out of the room and into the hall as we three stared on in amusement.

‘Yeah get out here, only sad single people are allowed in here.’ chuckled Varric.

Jowan paused to argue and then shrugged, taking another sip. ‘Well that’s me then.’

‘And me.’ I chimed.

‘Yep count me in.’ Varric added, thrusting his empty cup at Jowan. ‘Pour. Well Sparrow, I wouldn’t have believed it unless I saw it. Coulda sworn you were getting along with Goldilocks just then?’

Waving off the comment, I threw the dwarf a cynical look. ‘As if I have a choice? If we weren’t in debt to him before, we certainly are now. No thanks to you and your business dealings with him behind my back.’

The rogue chuckled as his hand was slapped away from exploring the chest by a guarded mage.

Jowan snapped his fingers at the dwarf. ‘Get back or I’ll be forced to check all your pockets before you leave.’

Varric flashed his brown eyes to me. ‘Hate him all you want Sparrow but Goldilocks helped us when no one else would. Are you seeing the Templars bringing over any supplies for you guys yet? Those grunts are swimming in coin and can’t even spare you a few carts of food. Shit, I don’t know about you but Michel appears to be the only one here with a compassionate bone in his body.’

‘The Templars will pay up.’ I frowned ‘Cassandra agreed to provide aid and that’ll be the first thing I address when she arrives here.’

Jowan groaned, casting me a disapproving look. ‘Why did you have to mention that to him?’

Varric grew quiet. Jowan and I exchanged concerned glances. It was the first time the dwarf hadn’t had a smartass comment to say.

‘The Seeker’s coming here?’ Varric frowned. ‘Bullshit. Divine Lizzy is sitting on her high horse in the white city.’

‘No we received word this morning that she’s coming here to discuss our mission.’ reassured Jowan ‘A fortnight from now she’s to arrive with Knight-Vigilante Robard. Between Sapientes, Cassandra and the head of the templar order, I can’t say who I dislike more.’

‘How long has it been since you’ve seen her?’ I asked Varric sympathetically, knowing how upset their breakup had been. It was hard to see our boisterous rogue so deflated whenever we mentioned Cassandra.

Varric rubbed his jaw uneasily, as if even the memory brought him discomfort. ‘It was about two months after Leliana was declared missing. The Seeker was still living here in Skyhold with me at the time. She’d been worried about Leliana but was also trying to keep hold of the reins of the Inquisition in the hopes of using our influence to find Nightingale. We’d decided to hit the hay early one night and I was in the middle of telling her everything would be alright when one of those Chantry assholes came banging at our door.’. The dwarf sniffed stiffly. ‘Message was plain and clear. Congrats Seeker, you’ve been appointed as the new Divine. She had her bags packed by the next morning. Promised me she’d sort it out and come back. Well…guess she got delayed.’

‘You don’t have to see her when she arrives.’ Jowan implored. ‘Go take a break in Kirkwall. We all know you deserve it after all the tours you’ve been doing.’

‘She ain’t making me run from my own home.’ muttered Varric. ‘No, we’ve got some unfinished business. If she wants to talk I’ll be here.’

****

‘_Have you lost your senses boy?’ _exclaimed Eamon.

At the request of Alistair, Arl Eamon had met his nephew that morning in the royal sitting room to discuss a private matter. After several serves of tea and too many scones, Eamon grew fed up with his nephew skirting around the topic he had asked him to talk about. Finally Alistair informed him of the truth; that he would be ending his courtship with Theresa of Gwarren and staring a new courtship with Leliana.

_The news was not received well._

Alistair sighed, already anticipating the reaction. ‘I know this is unexpected but I can’t change the way I feel about her. We share a strong bond and-’

The Arl of Denerim shook his head, unwilling to hear his nephew out. ‘You are the King of Ferelden.’

‘Well aware of that.’ replied Alistair under his breath.

‘You have wealth and titles to secure any woman that you want.’ chastised Eamon ‘And yet you choose to court that madwoman! The same woman, might I remind you, that had a child with the blood mage who poisoned me in Redcliffe many years back!’

‘A child that I love unconditionally.’ Alistair replied seriously. ‘Some would say courting his mother is a sensible option, considering I look upon Valahorn as my son.’

‘Don’t get me started on what I think about _that._’ grumbled Eamon.

Alistair threw his uncle a frown. ‘You’re right, _don’t.’_

‘Leliana’s been cast aside by the Chantry.’ warned Eamon ‘They wanted her rescued but you realise they all thought she was an utter loon that ruined the reputation of the Andrastian faith? And a former spy, might I add? Her early years were spent as an assassin. She is clever and calculating and in no way shape or form suitable to court the King of Ferelden!’

Alistair laughed at his uncle’s observation. ‘Because she’s too clever for me?

‘Because she’s too dangerous.’ warned Eamon. ‘That woman formed the Inquisition and look how much of a threat that group became to your rule? She wields power where there is none. Can you imagine what would happen if she was Queen?’

‘I’m just courting her.’ groaned Alistair ‘No one is talking about marriage.’

Eamon shook his head. ‘It’s a stones throw away, my lad. You go down this path and it will be hard to get off. And mark my words, Leliana is not someone you want in your court. A religious zealot who hears voices in her head and claims it is the Maker? She’s damaged and dangerous.’

Alistair lifted his hands to eyes, clearly vexed by his uncle’s harsh assessment. ‘Uncle I respect you, I do. But this is my decision and I am courting Leliana.’

‘Fine.’ grumbled his uncle ‘I’ve said my piece and you’ve been warned.’

The king sighed. ‘You realise I’ve known her for years? Ever since I was a young grey warden. I know Leliana. I know her failings, but I’m also aware of her virtues. She is good woman with a strong faith. My people love their Divine Victoria. They would welcome her to my court with open arms.’

‘A Ferelden who worked as an Orlesian spy is not someone I’d welcome into my court.’ frowned Eamon. ‘And as I recall you were in love with Sierra as a young warden, not Leliana.’

Alistair shrugged. ‘Perhaps I made the wrong decision all those years back? Perhaps I chose the wrong red haired woman?’

‘I know some nice red headed lasses you could meet?’ suggested Eamon.

Alistair chuckled, shaking his head. ‘No you don’t Eamon. And even if you did, I don’t want to tell you how creepy that sounds coming from you. Okay I’m well aware of your reservations, but I’ll just say one thing. She makes me happy. Right? And I mean _truly happy._ And after the nightmare of Sierra and Ophelia all I want is to feel that again.’

Rubbing his beard, Eamon nodded seriously. ‘It’s not easy being king, Alistair. If this union gives you a little reprieve then you have my blessing. Court her if you must boy, but stay alert. All women are the same. They all have a price. You just need to figure out what it is before it’s too late.’


	148. The Painful Truth

As twilight descended on Skyhold the sweet smell of embrium filled the air. Michel breathed in the sugary scent as he made his way back to his chambers. He had forgotten that scent, once so familiar and comforting to him after a busy day of training when his arms were aching and he was sporting half a dozen bruises and cuts.

The chevalier smiled to himself, recalling how delighted his companions had been on receiving his surprise. Jowan acted like he hadn’t received a present in a long time. And Ophelia appeared to secretly enjoy the gifts, even if her demeanour was slightly more reserved. The chevalier was well aware that was simply her nature. As Michel left the War Room that evening he felt as if perhaps a strong friendship could be rekindled between Varric, Jowan and Ophelia. And that made him excited about the days ahead. The four of them working together for the benefit of the abandoned children of Thedas, and the mages that did not have a chance for a simple education. What a worthy cause to pursue!

Opening the door to his chambers, the chevalier was anticipating a warm meal and a well stoked fire. Instead he was greeted with his wife in bed, reading a book in a cold room by a lone candle flame.

Her eyes lifted to see Michel enter and she threw him a pursed lip.

‘_Husband_.’

Perplexed by the reason Rose was in bed so early in the evening, Michel rushed to his wife’s side.

‘My love, are you unwell?’ Michel asked, placing a hand to her head. ‘Have you a fever?’

Rose swiped his hand away in irritation. ‘I’m fine, just tired.’

‘Then why are you in bed? Did you have a busy day?’ inquired Michel pleasantly. ‘Should I bring some dinner from the hall to our room? You relax, I won’t be long.’

Snapping her book shut in annoyance, Rose glared at the chevalier. ‘Thirty-six wagons arrived this morning. _Thirty-six_! Full of every food imaginable, rolling into Skyhold courtesy of Ser Michel de Chevin. You told me it was a meagre food donation of lettuce and grain. What I saw would have fed half of Orlais!’

The chevalier’s smile faded from his face as he beheld his wife’s displeasure. ‘That is not in the spirit of charity, _mar’alath.’_

‘Don’t call me that.’ she chastised, her green eyes sparking with fury. ‘No one is supposed to know of your past. What if someone hears you speak elvish to me and realises you are half-elf? It is horribly reckless.’

Michel hesitated, uncertain what Rose was implying. ‘Would it be so bad if people knew?’

Pulling a loose curl of her hair behind her ear in frustration, the Orlesian woman was determined not to be silenced. ‘You are soon to be Emperor Gaspard’s Champion, Michel. There cannot be any doubt cast on your suitability for the position.’ Rose warned. ‘You will bring shame to both our families if your lineage is revealed. And what of Comte de Chalons? After everything he has done for you would you turn around now and bring shame to his family?’

‘You mean, my family.’ corrected Michel in annoyance. ‘The Chalons have been my only family since I was fourteen. I am not an outsider who wishes to ruin their reputation.’

‘Then don’t act like one.’ warned Rose. ‘Calling me _mar’alath_ is tempting fate on a silly name that I don’t particularly like.’

‘My elven heritage doesn’t make me ashamed.’ replied Michel, turning away from his wife. He unbuckled his sword _Banal Nadas _and placed it gently on the table, running his fingers along the ivy on the hilt. ‘My mother was an elf and she was the most loving and strongest person that I ever knew. This blade I carry is elvish and was my Grandfathers. Not that I knew him. But I hope my actions in life make him proud. I am honoured to carry this sword on behalf of my clan. I’m sorry Rose if you feel that my elvish blood is shameful.’

‘Do you hear yourself?’ replied Rose in frustration. ‘First you declare how much you detest being forced to come up here to Skyhold. Then you splurge on these mages. You tell me how proud you are to become the Emperor’s Champion. And now you’re ready to profess you’re an elf to everyone? Michel, this is not you!’

The chevalier paced the room, growing more annoyed by the minute. He swept his long blonde hair back in irritation. ‘When did I say that, Rose? When did I say I was going to publicly declare my elven heritage? All I said was I have no shame in who I am. And what I choose to do with my money is none of your concern.’

‘Our money.’ corrected Rose.

Michel threw her a displeased look. ‘By the way you’re acting, you would think it is your money. You desire an apartment in Val Royeaux but I am chastised for a few wagons of carrots? Rose you are better than that. We have ample wealth to spare some of it to a worthy cause. The Mage Order of Southern Thedas _is a worthy cause._’

Furiously she tossed the book aside. ‘Do you know what I see? You never spend a cent on yourself back home, but the moment you arrive here you chose to spend a small fortune on Ophelia Trevelyan. She told me you offered her money the other day. Two hundred grochen?!’

‘I did and she refused it.’ acknowledged Michel stiffly. ‘I wish she had accepted it, it was the children of this keep. _Not her. _You accuse me of all these things I have not done. My motives were purely charitable.’

Furiously Rose flung her hand to some papers piled on the table by the window. ‘Ophelia was looking for you this morning. She left those for you. Perhaps you should go to her now.’

‘That can wait until tomorrow.’ dismissed Michel, moving closer to his wife. ‘Please my love, let us not bicker over things _that do not matter_. We have each other and that is everything to me. You are my love and I cannot bear fighting with you over trifle matters.’

Rose returned to her book, refusing to accept her husband’s peace offering. ‘These matters do matter to me Michel. Perhaps it was wrong of me to come here with you? If I had remained in Lapin at least I could have lived with the pretence of a good marriage. Perhaps you need some time alone to think about who you are and what you represent. As a husband and as a chevalier?’

‘I know who I am, Rose.’ declared Michel firmly ‘I hope you do too? And our marriage is as strong as it was the day I swore to be your husband.’. Disheartened by his wife’s volatility, the chevalier grabbed the papers and headed for the door. ‘Forgive me but I need to clear my head. Your words have struck a painful blow to me but I shall remind myself that this sacrifice you have made to be here with me must be hard for you. Life in Skyhold is not easy. I’ll return soon with some dinner for us both.’

Rose refused to look up from her book as Michel departed, her eyes staring angrily at the words that she was not reading.

****

Dinner in the main hall that night was an exciting moment for the mages. The new rations meant our usual slap-up of bread and stew had been replaced with seasoned roast vegetables, bannocks and salted meats. The mages chomped on their meals enthusiastically, and I couldn’t help silently praise Michel de Chevin when seeing the children being able to go back for seconds and third helpings. Piling a generous plate for myself, I decided to retire to my chambers and enjoy a meal alone.

_I felt as close as being content as I had been in a long while._

Reaching the top stairs to my chambers, I placed my plate on the table before noticing a breeze coming in from the open doors that led outside. My curious eyes soon grew sharp as I spotted a Templar out on my balcony.

‘Cullen?’ I frowned, stepping onto the platform. ‘Why are you out here?’

Standing beside the man on the balcony, I joined him silently watching the view of the mountains. A bottle in one hand and the other resting against the stone, he took a swig of the amber liquid.

‘I’d forgotten how vast the view was.’ confessed the Templar, his eyes scanning the horizon. ‘The view on top of Caer Bronach is impressive I grant you, but this is something entirely else. Like sitting on the throne of the gods. How does the saying go? _No greater riches fell before me than the golden sunrise of a new day._ Yet it’s colder than a witch's tit in a brass brassiere up here. How you gave up Denerim Palace for this icy abyss is a mystery.’ 

Eyeing the man carefully, I could tell he wasn’t sober. ‘Why are you here Cullen?’

The Knight-Commander turned to me, running a hand through his sandy waves and rubbing them tiredly. His eyes were glassy from drinking and more relaxed than his usual stern address. ‘I’m here because I’m here, Trevelyan.’ he replied. ‘Why the fuck does it matter? I’m here because you said you loved me and wanted to be with me no matter what.’

Drawing a deep breath, I willed my patience to guide me. ‘I haven’t stopped loving you or wanting to be with you. You’ll always have that over me. But I know being in a relationship with a Knight-Commander is not what I want. You having power over me to draw my phylactery, or hunt me down one day. To push me back into a tower and pretend you had no choice? You willing to jeopardise our love time and time again for your templar duties? No….I can’t be apart of that.’

Cullen grunted, taking another sip from his bottle. ‘You always were quick to jump ship, weren’t you? Fuck me, this place is still the same dive that I left all those years ago. There’s always a qualm and always a quarrel. We had a celebration this evening at the barracks for one of my men being promoted. Before you know it a mage comes in with a message and it turns into a fucking brawl.’

‘Who?’ I asked in surprise.

‘One of your young mages. A strapping lad with red hair, looked more like a wildling than a mage, but there he was pushing back at my Templars and telling them to not get too comfy. Same scenario again and again since I’ve joined the ranks. Mage and Templars can’t get along.’

‘I’ll have a word with him.’ I sighed ‘Sorry about that.’

Cullen waved his hand unsteadily. ‘No it’s fine. But you’re right about one thing, we can’t be together. Not like what you want anyhow. It’s impossible for both of us.’

Hopefully I turned to the man. ‘Then you finally see it? We’re nothing more than a dirty secret that your Order would never condone.’

The Commander nodded solemnly. ‘I suppose so.’ He took another swig, the bottle growing dangerously low. ‘It’s time for me to move on. You and I have different needs from a partner it appears. You want more than I can give you. What I have to offer you is not enough. _My heart isn’t enough_.’

‘I never said that.’ I replied flatly, turning away from the Templar. Retreating to my table, I sat down and began eating my dinner. There was no use talking to the man in this state. ‘You’ve always viewed relationships differently to me. When we first came to Skyhold from Haven, you never said a word to me. And the first time we had a proper conversation you took your opportunity to fuck me.’

‘You didn’t complain at the time.’ dismissed Cullen.

‘You’ve always had a partner specifically to satisfy your needs.’ I continued. ‘Your numerous submissives in Kirkwall. Leliana? Not partners mind you, you never referred to them as such. I need to be more to you than just a woman that you fuck.’

‘You need more.’ echoed Cullen sternly, joining me at the table. He took a seat, looking intensely in my eyes as he sat before me. ‘How much more?’

My hand lifted to his unshaven jaw affectionately. I wanted to kiss the scar on his lip. I wanted to curl up in his arms and let him carry me off to bed. _I wanted so much more._

‘You have no idea how much I love you Cullen.’ I murmured ‘If it were up to me…we’d run off after dealing with Sapientes and marry. Live together in a cottage like the one you have in Crestwood. That’s what I want.’

The templar scoffed, moving away from my touch. He drank deep from the bottle before looking back to me. ‘A fucking made up fantasy where you and I play house. That’s what you expect me to give you. The reality is you would be arrested and thrown in the Aonar if you tried marrying me. So would I, most likely. Am I only worthy of your heart if I live my life in a damn prison for the rest of my days? Stop being so fucking naïve and play the cards you’ve been dealt. We can have a life together but it’s not going to be the bullshit you spin in your head.’

Sadly I shook my head at the man. ‘My dreams are not bullshit. They’re the only thing I have that gets me through the day.’

Pointing a stern finger at me, Cullen refused to soften his assessment. ‘Grow the fuck up, Trevelyan. I tire of this.’

Determined to rise above his aggression, I refused to react. ‘I hope we can remain professional for the duration of our time together here at Skyhold?’ I informed crisply. ‘It’s no help to either of our Orders if we are fighting, especially when we’re working on something as important as defeating Sapientes.’

‘Good, finally something sensible to come out of your mouth.’ nodded Cullen. ‘A drink then?’

‘No I’m tired.’ I replied, standing up from the table. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.’

The Commander scoffed, rising slowly from his seat. Taking a step closer to me, he towered over me. ‘I do mind. Have one drink.’

Taking another few steps closer, Cullen drew his hands to my frame and pulled me against him.

‘Cullen I thought you just said-‘

His finger drew to my lips and a dark curl on his lips revealed. ‘There are conditions to this arrangement.’

Drawing his lips to mine, he kissed me aggressively as his fingers roughly explored the curves of my arse. Tasting like an alehouse, his mouth explored mine hungrily.

‘Enough of this.’ I protested, pushing back from him.

Swiftly I tried to pass him but the Templar’s strong hand grabbed my arm and held me back.

Cullen furiously glared at me, his eyes consumed with rage. ‘I said I’d move on, but I never said I’d release you. We’re not done Ophelia, not even close to being done. You declared your love to me back in Denerim. _Your desires_. I know what’s in your heart and mine. But don’t worry I’ll find someone else and so can you. However when I’m in Skyhold I expect there to be exceptions.’

Scoffing at him, I couldn’t believe the man. ‘What exceptions?’

‘Like we were back in Skyhold at the beginning of all this.’ advised Cullen ‘On the odd occasion that my blood is up I want to fuck you. Train you. Make you obedient once more.’

‘Do you not understand what _it’s over_ means?’ I mused. _Surely this was a joke. _

‘I meant what I said in Caer Bronach.’ warned Cullen ‘You will submit to me.’

‘How much have you drunk tonight?’ I laughed in disbelief. ‘You’re going to regret this come tomorrow morning.’

‘Get on your knees.’ growled the Commander. The tone in his voice filled with desire. ‘As it so happens, my blood is up.’

Laughing at his request, I yanked my arm despite his firm grip. 

Cullen raised a brow at my silence. ‘You think you can escape your feelings?’ he asked seriously. ‘This doesn’t end just because you can’t deal with reality.’

‘Yes it does.’ I replied darkly. My eyes glared into his, furious at how this was turning out but determined not to give in. ‘Have you finished?’

The Knight-Commander squeezed his grip on my arm. His fingers painfully pressed into my flesh and pulled down towards the ground until I was forced onto my knees by the man. Devilish in nature, he stood watching me with a dark smirk on his intoxicated lips. ‘Only after you’ve been whipped for insolence and fucked to an inch of your life. Only then will I have finished. So stay on your knees, like you have a million times before, take out my cock and put it in your mouth.’

‘Cullen enough.’ I warned impatiently, attempting to stand up as he stood over me.

‘LET HER GO.’

A familiar Orlesian voice interrupted us; clear and strong yet also apparently shocked. Before us by the top of the stairs Michel de Chevin stood, bewildered at the pair of us. With fury in his eyes he glared at the Commander.

‘What sort of man talks to a woman like that?’ Michel demanded furiously.

‘What are you doing here?’ replied Cullen roughly, taking a step away from me. ‘A little late for house calls, isn’t it?’. He turned to me suspiciously. ‘Expecting company, were you? Was that the reason I was to leave?’

‘No I believe _you_ were the reason you have to leave.’ I snapped, brushing my clothing as I stood up from the floor. ‘Take your bottle and go Cullen. Sleep it off for goodness sake.’

‘Cullen, come let us go.’ ordered Michel a little more calmly. ‘Perhaps a little food and water might help?’

The Commander refused to move. ‘Michel this is none of your concern and you are not welcome here. Leave us.’

Michel looked over to me in concern. ‘Ophelia? Do you wish me to leave?’

‘Of course not!’ I chortled. ‘Cullen is one that is leaving. Isn’t that right Cullen?’

Cullen hissed at the remark, eyeing us both with reproach. ‘Now I see why you’ve decided I’m not enough. The chevalier comes back to Skyhold, sweeping in with bread and turnips. Trust a fucking Free Marches whore to be so easily bought.’

‘Don’t test me.’ I warned dangerously, spreading my hands to prepare to cast magic. ‘Jowan taught me the blue flame and I’m not afraid to use it. _You _are the reason we are over. And Michel is married, as you well know, so leave him out of this.’

Furiously the templar clutched his fist and took step closer to me. ‘You’d cast fucking dark magic on me, Trevelyan? Is that what you’re saying? Tell me again that Jowan hasn’t shaped you into a filthy blood mage.’

Michel stepped several tentative steps closer, clearly trying to diffuse the situation instead of escalating it. ‘Please my friends, your tempers are up but I implore you both to take a breath and step away. Cullen, perhaps it is best to remove yourself from Ophelia’s room?’

‘So you can step right in?’ scoffed Cullen.

Michel shook his head patiently. ‘No. I am married and I am faithful to my wife, Cullen.’

‘It’s never stopped you before.’ retorted the Commander before turning back to me. ‘Does the chevalier make you submit also? Are you begging to come for him, or begging for it to be over?’

Michel shook his head in disbelief. ‘How can speak to her like that? I would not say such things to my worst enemy. What is going on here?’

Cullen rolled his eyes, pouring himself a wine from my side table as Michel and I glared at him in shock. ‘Yes poor sweet Ophelia. I bet she’s never told you that she’s been my willing little _bathhouse whore_ for years at Skyhold. You see I like to inflict pain on my submissives. Whip them. Strangle them. Fuck them. She’s been begging me dominate her since the day we started the Inquisition. _She enjoys it, you idiot_.’

‘There is nothing about this that I enjoy Cullen.’ I warned. ‘I told you this is over. So what are you doing? Trying to humiliate me as punishment?’ 

‘It’s the reason she always came back to me and left you.’ continued Cullen, determined to ignore me now and speak to Michel. ‘Your gentleman routine may win her over but she always wanted a firm hand and hard fuck from a Templar. Someone who could really push her boundaries.’

The blue flame arose in my hand, sparking angrily as my emotions. ‘This is bullshit. Get out Cullen.’

‘Ophelia, please.’ appealed Michel, raising his hands to placate the situation.

The Commander laughed at me bitterly as he watched the flame. In several angry gulps he sculled the wine and shoved past Michel, descending the stairs.

‘Enjoy her while you can.’ Cullen yelled out as he left the room.

Michel shook his head in disbelief as the Commander stormed off into the night.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked breathlessly.

‘No just incredibly embarrassed.’ I replied, clutching my temples in disbelief. ‘What just happened then? I haven’t seen him that angry since he found out I cast blood magic on the Imperial Highway to save you. It was like he was possessed.’

Michel raised a brow at me. ‘Or terribly drunk? Why did you invite him into your chambers in such a state?’

‘I didn’t.’ I replied defensively ‘I came into my room hoping to enjoy a quiet meal and I found he had broken in and was waiting on the balcony.’

Michel raised hand to his forehead. ‘_Mon dieu_. This reminds me of the Inquisition. But worse. Have you both been in a relationship this whole time?’

‘We’ve not seen each other since the Inquisition.’ I dismissed darkly ‘Not until a few months back when the mages were propositioned by the Templars to aid them. Even then I was hesitant to meet with them on the off chance I did see Cullen again. But see him I did. Cullen strongly implied he wished for our relationship to…recommence. I decided that it wasn’t what I wanted and he hasn’t come to terms with that.’

Michel appeared furious as he stared into the distance where Cullen had departed. ‘So he forces himself upon you in the dark? You know you must notify the Templars about his behaviour. You are not safe I fear.’

‘That will make it all the more difficult to work with the Templars. What a nightmare.’ I muttered. ‘He was just extremely drunk and tends to be a brute when he is. No doubt tomorrow he’ll wake up with a sore head and some humble pie. Forget about it. Thank you for helping me out just then.’

Michel waved his hand. ‘Not at all. I’m glad I arrived when I did.’

‘Why are you here?’ I queried ‘I thought you left before to have dinner?’

Michel’s concerned brow could be seen even in the darkness of night. ‘There was no dinner awaiting me. Only…well, it doesn’t really matter.’. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a crumpled parchment, throwing me a polite smile. ‘I was going to return your document and address the questions about the Eluvian.’

‘Perhaps it’s best we leave it for another day.’ I dismissed. ‘Go and get some food from the hall while they’re still serving it.’

Michel nodded silently, lost to his thoughts as he remained quiet.

‘Do you want to talk about something else?’ I asked, sensing he most definitely did.

Michel frowned at my offer, as if he disapproved of sharing his thoughts.

Feeling I’d overstepped some boundary with my questions, I decided to take a step back. ‘Sorry, the last thing I’m trying to do is pry.’

‘She is very angry that I’ve provided supplies to your mages.’ replied Michel quietly. Politely he gestured to a seat at the table. ‘May I sit for a moment?’

Lifting my brows in surprise, I extended my hand. ‘Be my guest.’

Joining him at the table, we sat before the half eaten plate of my cold dinner. The chevalier ran an elegant finger along his steel gauntlet, fiddling with the buckle. He appeared distracted and slightly forlorn.

‘Can I get you anything?’ I asked gently.

Michel shook his blond head. ‘No thank you. As I was saying, Rose is not happy about my donation to Skyhold. And the Apiary that I’ve given to your mages to make their mead. And she is very unhappy with my attempt to gift you gold the other day.’

Wincing at the comment, I knew that was partially my fault. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise she didn’t know about that when I mentioned it.’

Michel looked at me with intense blue eyes. ‘It’s fine Ophelia. It’s just….just one thing that..’. The chevalier swallowed hard in his throat, as if the words were stuck.

‘Michel? What is it?’

His blue eyes turned to mine ardently, as if something greatly weighed on his mind. ‘When we were together, and tell me the truth, did my elven heritage bother you? Even a little? Please tell me your true feelings. I don’t care either way, but the truth would help right now.’

‘Of course not!’ I replied in surprise. ‘Why ever would it matter?’

The chevalier sighed, shaking his head. ‘Never mind.’ 

‘Michel?’

Refusing to speak, he pondered in silence until finally he was ready to continue. ‘My elven blood is terribly important to me and yet since I’ve left Skyhold all I’ve done is supress it. When I was here I was speaking elvish and researching my clan in Solas’s library. I identified as an elf with pride and the Inquisition respected that.’.

‘In Orlais they don’t see it the same way.’ I nodded, understanding what he was implying. ‘It doesn’t mean you can’t feel pride in who you are.’

‘Do you ever feel that your role defines you? Takes over who you really are?’ he asked quietly.

Laughing bitterly, I nodded. ‘Yes, every single time. As Inquisitor. As Queen. As Consort to the King. As a senior enchanter to these mages. We play our parts Michel, but they are not who we truly are. You just need to remind yourself of that.’

‘I am afraid to play the hardest role of them all. I am afraid to be my true self.’ confessed Michel.

Shaking my head, I knew what he was up against. It was the reason I refused to tell Alistair of his elvish bloodline. ‘They will never respect you, my friend. The world will only slap a label on you. _Elf_. Just like they do to me. _Mage_. Nothing more than a troublesome mage.’

Michel looked to me seriously. ‘You are so much more than just that, Ophelia.’

‘_And so are you_.’ I implored. ‘Don’t forget all the other things you are in life. All the roles you serve to people. Chevalier? Ser? Husband? Landlord? Master? You’re elven yes, but you’re also more than just that to those around you.’

Breathing out in relief, he stood up. ‘I should get back to Rose. My poor love must be starving as I chat away. Thank you for your wise words, it has given me clarity.’

‘Wise words.’ I chuckled ‘Now now, let’s not mock this depraved mage.’

Michel threw me an amused smile. ‘I meant it. The wise part.’. Before turning away the chevalier paused. He rubbed his fair jaw in contemplation as he silently weighed up his words. ‘Ophelia it’s not my business but you deserve to be loved by someone better than that. How Cullen described your past relationship…how he spoke to you…well, _that is not love_. There are more deserving people out there. I found my one true love. And I know one day you will find your one true love too.’

Nodding silently, I threw Michel a smile as he left. As his blonde head descended the stairs swiftly, so too did my smile fade.

Perhaps Michel believed in true love but I certainly didn’t. Not anymore.


	149. A Stitch In Time

_Jean-Luc, you are in my prayers my dear heart. You are at peace and that gives me such comfort. But mon bijou, I miss you so much I think my heart should break. Let this light burn in your memory. _

Tear falling down her cheeks, Rose de Chevin lit a candle at the templar shrine that morning in the herb gardens at Skyhold. There were many candles whose burnt wicks had melted into the sand. Too many to count. To all that visited the shrine it stood out as a loud reminder that too many Templars had died unnecessarily.

Unable to console herself Rose burst into sobs of grief, falling to her knees beside the shrine of the bronze shield of the Order. 

'Oh my heart, I wish you could be here with me.' she prayed. 'I feel so alone being away from Orlais. My husband and I are quarreling and I have no friends up here to listen to my concerns. Maker, hear my prayer and send me hope.' 

Her attention was diverted by footsteps behind her and she turned, hastily wiping her tears. Rose’s green watery eyes met with a Templar’s as she stared silently up at him.

Knight-Captain Arrus stood a little distance away, surprised to happen across someone else at the shrine. In his hand were a bundle of thin candles, no doubt intended for the shrine.

‘Oh…I beg your pardon, my lady.’ apologised Arrus. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb your solitude.’

Hastily the Orlesian woman stood up, brushing the crinkles from her skirts. ‘Not at all, I was just praying for my cousin Jean-Luc.’

Placing the candles in a tin by the memorial, Arrus silently crossed himself in the Maker’s sign before stepping away. He noticed the woman lingering behind him and as he turned back to her he could see she had been crying. Uneasily he ran a hand through his short white hair as she remained fixated on the shrine before them.

‘Did you cousin fall in battle, my lady?’ he asked softly.

‘He was an Orlesian templar in the Montsimmard division.’ whispered Rose. ‘He died during the Inquisition. By ill fate he was turned into a Red Templar and fell as such. But he loved his Order with all his heart….it would have broken his heart to turn against his Order as he did….’

Blinking her green eyes, they filled will tears and she began to cry once more.

Unaccustomed to the emotions of the fairer sex, the templar hesitated in slight fear of what he should do. His hands lifted to her arm and then lowered just as quickly. Yet Arrus’s will persuaded him to console the woman and tentatively he stepped forward towards her.

‘My lady, I'm so sorry. Your cousin is a hero in our ranks for his sacrifice. Many good Templars were turned by that red lyrium. We know their actions during that time were not representative of their core values. I lost many comrades to the same fate as your cousin and I too come here to light a candle for their memory. They are in the Maker’s hands now and he is most glorious in his love and forgiveness to his flock.’

‘Forgive me, I would not wish you to see me like this.’ apologised Rose, unable to cease the tears trickling down her face. ‘Coming here to Skyhold and seeing all your Templars has kindled my memory of Jean-Luc. I confess I find so much comfort seeing your brave men and women in their uniforms. I feel closer to my cousin’s spirit here and quizzically never have I felt so alone? Skyhold is such a lonely place.’

Arrus nodded silently, as if he empathised wholeheartedly. ‘Yes I find it hard being away from home. The Frostback Mountains are a long way away from all that I consider familiar.’

‘Have you been a templar long?’ inquired Rose gently. ‘Is this your first outpost?’

Arrus smiled widely, rubbing his jaw in amusement. ‘No, by the good grace of the Maker I’ve been a templar for a good twenty five years. I’m Knight-Captain of the Crestwood outpost in Ferelden.’

‘A Knight-Captain!’ observed Rose in surprise, her cheeks growing ever so slightly red. ‘Goodness, forgive me I had no idea. It’s such an honour to speak to someone so high up in the ranks. Jean-Luc looked up to his Knight-Captain as one would to the Maker. Forgive me, Knight-Captain. Do not waste time on a grieving lady. I should not wish to keep you from your duties.’

‘I’m Arrus.’ introduced the templar kindly. ‘Please, call me Arrus.’

Rose extended a friendly hand and shook the Templar’s. ‘I’m Rose.’

Arrus’s blue eyes darted away as a thought came to his mind, wondering whether to act on it. Finally he conceded and extended a polite hand. ‘I’m on my morning break and if you like, I could take you on a tour of our templar encampment? It may give you comfort to see how our Templars train up here? And if my superior would permit it, perhaps you would accept a souvenir from our Order? A templar flag for you to keep and look upon when your spirits need rallying.’

Taken aback by the man’s kind offer, Rose threw him an uncertain smile. ‘Oh I couldn’t... I promised I would not bother a soul up here. I must keep out of the way. Your duties surely compel you to do far greater things than accompany me through the encampment.’

Arrus shrugged. ‘It is no bother. Besides I must return to the camp and would welcome the company on the way back. I find in times of grief that company sometimes lightens the mood. I too feel grief when I come here to light candles for my brothers and sisters.’

Pleased at the prospect of visiting somewhere new, Rose conceded gratefully. ‘In that case, I thank you. Perhaps a little walk will do us both a world of good?’

****

After several hot cups of water steeped with comfrey and chamomile, Cullen managed to cease his pounding head. He awoke that morning in his bed with a churning stomach and a deep regret of drinking. Yet work never stopped for the self-inflicted woes of a hung-over templar, so Cullen pulled on his boots and pushed forward.

With a tight jaw he recalled the events of the previous night and no matter how hard the Commander swung his sword in the training circle that morning, the memories did not subside. Like flashes of angry lightning, Cullen recalled Ophelia threatening to cast the blue flame at him over and over again. He could see the blue light erupt from her palm as she warned him to be careful. A spell cast by a maleficar. Gritting his teeth, Cullen hacked away at a wooden target until it was a pile of splinters at his feet_. The blue flame was the final straw. _Ophelia had been corrupted by Jowan and nothing that she could say would convince him otherwise. He was a fool to have believed she had not been turned into a maleficar.

_But he still needed her….._

To add further insult, Michel de Chevin was sniffing around like a dirty rat. Cullen knew it was the only reason Ophelia would have been willing to end their relationship. And the templar knew it was only a matter of time before he found the two together. But Cullen refused to be bet by the chevalier. Ophelia was his and he would not part with her so easily _ever again_.

As the exhausted Templars drank water and thanked the Maker their Knight-Commander had finally let them have their morning break, Cullen stormed off into his tent to start preparing the weekly roster. He had more work than he could manage on his own, and the stress was getting to him.

The previous day the Commander had announced that he would be taking on a second Knight-Captain, and had promoted one of his favourites within the ranks. A hardworking templar by the name of Sheldon was promoted. The templar was extremely dedicated at teaching recruits and managing his own encampment of Templars back in Crestwood. He was smart, devoted to the Order, and always held a positive outlook. Given Cullen's workload had increased three-fold since coming to Skyhold, he was under the novel position of entertaining two Knight-Captains in his entourage. Knight-Captain Arrus and Knight-Captain Sheldon.

Finishing the final details to the week’s roster, Cullen scribbled tiredly at his desk before passing the papers to his newly appointed Knight-Captain.

‘Arrus will teach the ropes but read over the manual to refresh yourself.’ advised Cullen, handing over the roster to the Knight-Captain. ‘Go over this with Arrus and post it to the barracks. I’m sure it’s fine but perhaps I’ve overlooked something. We’ve yet to work with a single mage since we’ve arrive, so I’ve left blank training times for each day. On the off chance they’re willing to teach us anything useful. Don’t hold your breath.’

‘Yes Commander.’ nodded Knight-Captain Sheldon. A muscular man in his forties, it was clear the man embraced the athletics of his profession. The lines on his forehead were several and his dark brown hair was kept short and neat. His brown eyes stared intently at the paper before a yawn escaped his mouth.

Cullen chuckled at the templar. ‘A little tired there?’

‘Sorry Commander, the celebrations went late.’ apologised Knight-Captain Sheldon. ‘Our Templars were keen to outdrink their new Knight-Captain and I should have abstained.’

‘I know the exact feeling.’ muttered Cullen. ‘Remind me never to promote another Knight-Captain in my ranks for a while. I fear the hangover after this particular one.’

As the men continued their work they were soon interrupted by Knight-Captain Arrus entering through the white flaps of the tent. Cullen lifted his eyebrows in surprise as Rose de Chevin followed in after the templar.

‘Good morning.’ greeted Cullen, casting a pair of curious eyes to Sheldon. 'Look lively, we've company.'

‘Knight-Commander Cullen.’ saluted Arrus. ‘Might I have a moment of your time?’ He turned to Rose and nodded in encouragement for her to step forward as she kept by his side. ‘I chanced upon Lady de Chevin at our templar memorial in the Skyhold gardens and offered her a tour of our encampment. Her cousin was a templar and died during the Inquisition. She holds the Order in great esteem.’

Standing from his seat, Cullen placed a respectful hand on his chest. ‘Then I’m sorry for your loss, Lady de Chevin.’. The Commander pointed to a soft leather bound journal sitting on his desk. ‘Death is never an easy concept to accept. For my own part I struggle with it even after being in service as long I have. Soldiers will always die but I refuse to make light of it. I write the names of all my Templars that have died under my watch. Every day I make sure I look over their names so as to never forget their memory and service to our Order. Would you permit me to add your cousin to the list?’

Her red lips opened in surprise, as if stunned by the compassionate gesture of a stranger.

‘Why…yes, I would appreciate that. That is very kind. And please, just call me Rose.’ replied the Orlesian in gratitude. ‘And I will not keep you, despite your Knight-Captain’s polite insistence we come here. You must be very busy.’

‘Yes, this new mission keeps us well occupied.’ agreed Cullen, casting a look to his Templars. ‘Bet you lot miss the mundane Crestwood duties these days? Scrubbing the upper deck and polishing the blades must sound like a holiday compared to this.’

‘I dream of morning drills beside Lake Calenhad.’ chuckled Knight-Captain Sheldon. ‘The very same drills we detested because it was so horrendously cold at dawn. Compared to up here it would now be like sun baking on an Antivan beach.’

‘Fishing in Lake Calenhad.’ added Arrus a little woefully. ‘That’s what I miss.’

‘If you could actually catch a fish.’ quipped Sheldon.

Arrus extended his arms wide. ‘I caught a brim this big about two months back.’

Cullen rolled his eyes. ‘My apologies Rose if my Knight-Captain has been wasting your time this morning. ’

Rose smiled at the men, taking pleasure in their banter. ‘Not at all, your Knight-Captain is a wonderful man.’ declared the woman. ‘Your Templars are so very skilled and dedicated. You must feel such pride.’

‘That is exactly what I feel for my men and women here.’ acknowledged Cullen. ‘They serve our Order with honour, but also they also serve the Maker’s will. And that is a worthy pursuit in my books.’

Knight-Captain Arrus placed a heartfelt hand to his chest. ‘May His will always guide us.’

‘I envy your dedication.’ confessed Rose. ‘Arrus explained to me how hard you’ve all worked to create the Crestwood outpost. You’ve extended the hand of generosity to all those poor peasants in the village. To serve your Order and the people with such pride.’. Fondly she pointed to a templar shield resting against a weapon rack in the corner of the tent. ‘Jean-Luc used to polish that shield of his until you could eat supper off it. It was so clean. He said dirt on the emblem of a Templars shield was like sullying the order itself. So he always kept it pristine.’

The Commander nudged his head to his Knight-Captains. ‘You should teach the recruits that one. I like it.’

‘Your cousin sounds like a good templar.’ acknowledged Sheldon. ‘That is the way I try to train our recruits. With respect to that which we serve.’

Casting her attention seriously to the Commander, Rose appeared to have a request. ‘During our conversations this morning I mentioned to Knight-Captain Arrus that I would like to help your cause. So I come to you to ask if I can aid your Order? To be here in Skyhold with a purpose is something I wish to have.’

‘Surely life in Skyhold is no different than in Orlais?’ mused Cullen mischievously, sitting back down at his desk. ‘You’ve a rich tapestry of Ferelden culture up here to whittle away the hours. Between Varric’s tavern, the several merchant stalls selling undoubtedly stolen goods, and the weekly hog racing by the compost pits south of the keep I’d thought you’d be savouring the delights?’

Rose rolled her eyes with a smile. ‘If only that were so.’

Arrus nodded as if he too agreed Skyhold was somewhat lacking. ‘I’d dare say Crestwood is a civilised city compared to this place.’

‘It’s too barren up here.’ frowned Knight-Captain Sheldon.

‘Aye and only little fish swim in the _Three Archers River.’ _sighed Arrus.

‘Let say it how it is, Skyhold is a steaming pile of horse-shit.’ observed Cullen flatly. His amber eyes flashed in amusement at Rose’s open mouth of shock. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Rose?’

Pursing her lips the Orlesian suddenly broke into laughter, shaking her head. ‘No, it’s a _freezing pile of horse-shit_.’ she corrected, causing the Templars to laugh heartily.

Arrus chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Aye it is.’

Cullen smiled as rubbed his jaw, looking at the woman curiously. ‘Well I’d hire you as a recruit but something tells me that’s not what you had in mind?’

Rose shook her head in amusement. ‘No I did not come here to enlist as a templar. But as I mentioned to Arrus, I can sew well enough and there’s bound to be bandages to be made? Shirts to be stitched? I can mend trousers as well as the finest seamstresses in Orlais.’

Arrus raised a brow to his Commander. ‘I mentioned the state of our tailor repairs could be improved.’

‘Yes well all my Templars are trained to use a needle and thread for repairs but I’ll be the first to admit we don’t practice the art as much as combat training.’ observed Cullen cynically. ‘Can’t control the use of magic with tailoring, can we?’

Rose nodded in encouragement. ‘If you’d allow me, I could repair shirts and trousers and tents. Whatever you need? I could even knit you a pair of pink socks.’

The Templars all laughed, clearly entertained by the woman.

‘Well I’ll hold you to that.’ Cullen mused. He grew quiet, contemplating her proposal as he tapped his quill with an idle finger. ‘Your skills may actually prove very useful for my Templars up here. We have a tailor in Crestwood but naturally they did not make the journey up here with us. Yes we might welcome the sort of help that you are offering.’. The Commander groaned, leaning back in his chair in defeat. ‘Maker what was I thinking? Your husband may have a thing or two to say about aiding us. I doubt this arrangement will work.’

Perplexed at the Commander’s observations, Rose frowned. ‘Why would Michel care if I stitched garments for the templar Order?’

Cullen looked at Rose curiously, a small smirk forming. ‘You think he’d be happy for you working for me? I very much doubt it.’

‘Michel de Chevin is helping our Templars train.’ pointed out Knight-Captain Sheldon. ‘Surely if he is aiding the Templars he would have no issue with his wife aiding us?’

‘Michel represents the chevaliers and aids us on behalf of the requests of his Emperor. He has no allegiance to the Templars.’ argued Cullen. ‘He's brought his wife here as a guest and we should treat her as such. We risk stepping on toes by taking in his noble wife and putting her to work.’

The lady sighed, disheartened by Cullen’s assessment. ‘My status shouldn’t dictate my willingness to help.’

‘I mentioned to Rose that perhaps she could have a keepsake from our Order. As a reminder of her cousin.’ informed Arrus, quick to change the subject. ‘I did not wish to take it without your consent, but if permissible could we part with one of Order’s flags?’

‘A fine sentiment if ever I heard of one.’ acknowledged Cullen. ‘We’ve several spare in the quartermaster’s tent by the barracks. In fact go there now, and take Knight-Captain Sheldon with you so he can go over the roster on the way and deliverit to the barracks.’. Throwing Rose a smile, the Commander drew his hand to a seat by his desk. ‘Rose can wait here until your return and then you can escort her back to Skyhold. That is, if you can bear spending a moment with a tired and grumpy templar?’

Cullen flashed a playful wink and Rose smiled.

‘I’ve heard many things about the Commander of the Templars, but none of them involved words of that description.’ reassured the woman. ‘It’s an honour to be in the company of a Knight-Commander.’

Amused by her words, Cullen laughed as he settled back his seat. His hand went to his neck, massaging a knot as he relaxed before his company. ‘Is that sarcasm I detect? It must be. I fear to ask how Michel describes me to you. His eloquence can go only so far where beasts such as myself are concerned. I’m guessing after he recounted last night's events you must think me a monster. In fact I’m surprised you’re talking to me at all.’

Curiously the Orlesian woman shook her head. ‘I’m…not sure what you mean? What happened last night?’

Rubbing his sandy stubble, Cullen eyed the woman for a moment, weighing up whether she was being honest. Her green eyes blinked blankly at the templar. He shrugged, deciding she was telling the truth. ‘Well perhaps Michel’s silence is for the best? I wasn’t in my best form last night. Although I’m certain at some stage your husband will reveal his true feelings about me. We’ve never quite got along.’

‘Why ever not?’ asked Rose in surprise. ‘Are you both not leaders in your own Orders? Only honourable men become Champion and Knight-Commander. You share much in common, including the time when you worked together during the Inquisition. Surely such a bond would harbour no ill feelings?’

‘Bond?’ scoffed Cullen, unconvinced that Rose would be none the wiser. ‘You jest? He’s never mentioned our past indiscretions? The fights? _Nothing?’ _

Rose appeared clueless. ‘What were you both fighting about?’

The Commander tapped his finger on the desk, knowing it was a dangerous line to cross. Yet perhaps this was exactly what he needed to do? His amber eyes locked onto Rose as she sat there before him, eagerly waiting an answer.

‘Rose, if you desire to aid our Order I would not wish things to become tense between us in the future.’ informed Cullen sternly. ‘There are things you clearly are unaware of and unless you are informed I fear we cannot work together. Sooner or later Michel will warn you to steer clear of me. _That is a fact_. I fear without cause to defend myself I should inform you of the truth now. In my own words and on my own terms.’

‘Truly, Michel would not care. He certainly would not forbid me. I wish to help your Order.’ reassured Rose. ‘But I can see something weighs on your mind. If you believe something needs to be said, please do so. If only so I can put your mind at ease.’

‘May I speak to you of something confidential then?’ asked Cullen, his voice growing quieter. The templar sighed, waving a defeated hand at the woman. ‘My apologies. To ask a person that I do not even know to swear secrecy is ludicrous.’. He ran a hand through his sandy short hair, cautious at the conversation he was about to lead the woman down. ‘This is not an easy topic to discuss. Especially with you of all people.’

Rose shuffled closer in her seat towards his desk, her voice lowering as she placed a reassuring hand on the wood. ‘It is true we are new acquaintances. But I swear what you have to say will go no further than myself and my husband, of whom I share no secrets.’

Cullen raised a brow, as if the idea entertained him. ‘Naturally everything I propose to tell you is already well known by Michel. Michel’s involvement _is the reason_ he and I do not get along. Many years ago I was in a romantic relationship with the senior enchanter here at Skyhold, Ophelia Trevelyan. We began our courtship at the beginning of the Inquisition. When Michel later came to work at Skyhold he had an affair with her. Several in fact. Your husband essentially ruined my relationship with her.’

Crestfallen at the mention of Ophelia, Rose breathed out in an impatient sigh. ‘I’m well aware Michel was in a relationship with her during the Inquisition. But you are mistaken.’. Rose replied, shaking her head determinedly. ‘Michel is no adulterer. It’s true he mentioned that their relationship was complicated, and it was serious enough that he followed her Denerim Palace for a while…only for him to realise the relationship had gone cold. On her end, that is. I felt it unhelpful for me to press for further details. The past is the past, no?’

‘Did he mention Ophelia was my fiancé at the time he went with her to Denerim Palace?’ inquired Cullen dryly. ‘Or that he continued his affair with her whilst she was married to the King of Ferelden?’

Her shocked green eyes drew swiftly to the Templar’s. ‘N-no.’ stammered Rose. ‘Goodness, no….he would have told me. Such things of that nature are not easily concealed. Are you saying my husband committed treason?’

‘His allegiance is with Emperor Gaspard, not King Alistair.’ dismissed Cullen. ‘Do not concern yourself there.’. The templar continued swiftly, eager to avoid the Orlesian’s many questions. ‘Last night I am ashamed to say I drank too much and ventured to Ophelia’s room to talk. Well, talk is loose description perhaps of what happened. Strong whiskey tends to encourage one to utter nonsense despite one’s usual common sense. It is there we were disturbed by your husband, who took it upon himself to also visit her in her chambers that evening. About what, I cannot say? I left them to themselves. The point is Rose, you come across as a good and virtuous woman and I cannot simply watch the past unfold and not rightly warn you. I’ve been jaded in the past and I would not wish you to go through it. Being that you are Michel’s wife you deserve to know.’

Growing increasingly uncomfortable, Rose pulled a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Know what?’

Cullen breathed out heavily. ‘Nothing specific. Just be aware of Michel and Ophelia. Be aware of their true natures and their history together. I’ve noticed a change in Ophelia since your husband returned here. And your husband?’. Cullen scoffed, flicking his hand to the air. ‘His sweeping gesture of rations to the mages? A little grandiose, wouldn’t you say? If I were you I would keep your guard up.’

‘Why was Michel in Ophelia’s chambers last night.’ pressed Rose stiffly. ‘Was it to discuss the Eluvian?’

Cullen threw the woman an unconvinced look. ‘That’s hardly a pressing issue that needs addressing so late in the evening in her private chambers? Look I’m not questioning Michel’s actions last night, we cannot know what his intentions were or what they were doing in there. All I’m saying is there is a history there that you are not fully aware of. If you approach this subject Michel I suspect he will not tell you everything. _But I know everything that happened during the Inquisition_. Every sordid little detail. And where it concerns your husband, he has not acted as innocent as he perhaps he had led you to believe.’

‘How dare you speak of husband to me in such a way!’ chastised Rose. ‘He is a good man.’. She stood up from her chair in annoyance. ‘This conversation has taken a terrible turn. I must leave now.’

Culled drew his stern amber eyes to the woman, silently appealing her to listen. In his usual authoritarian manner he rose from his seat and stood tall, refusing to release her from his gaze as he pressed his hands against the desk and leaned hard into the wood. ‘I swear on my honour as a templar that all I speak to you here is the truth_. I swear it._ Do you think the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order seeks to weave mischief and plant seeds of doubt? I’ve enough work to keep me quite busy I assure you.’

Her face faded from anger to concern. Rose hesitated, sinking slowly back into her chair.

‘Then tell me everything.’ implored Rose. ‘If you swear on your honour, then I will hold you to it. Tell me every detail of what happened between you, Ophelia and Michel during the Inquisition.’


	150. Wolves and Sheep

Humming a merry tune, his riding boots tapped along the stone cobbles of the stables. The horses were in their stalls, munching away on their morning feed as Alistair approached the large doors of the stables. On a brindle Ferelden Warmblood, Leliana waited for the king to arrive. Her long red hair danced wild in the wind as she sat on her horse, waiting with an impatient grin as Alistair joined her on his own white mare.

‘Are you sure you don’t wish to take the carriage?’ Alistair asked, eyeing the skies with a frown. ‘Wouldn’t want to get caught in the rain and catch a sniffle.’

‘Hah, I see the king has grown soft.’ teased Leliana.

‘Squidgy.’ corrected Alistair ‘Ever so slightly squidgy. So, where are we going? I feel uneasy when someone tells me to saddle up and don’t ask any questions. It usually ends up with me being relocated to an outpost in the desert for a few years.’

‘Come on.’ laughed Leliana. ‘Follow me.’

Together they galloped out of Denerim, south along the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest and into the heart of Ferelden with six body guards following at a respectful distance. Several times Leliana halted suddenly, fearful of random sounds and disturbances such as a flock of crows flying from a tree or the occasional traveller passing by. Her shaking hand would subconsciously clutch a bangle on her arm as Alistair reassured her she was perfectly safe with him. It was doubtful whether she was reassured by this, but her courage allowed her to push forward on their journeys despite her fear.

Eventually the group arrived in Lothering, a tired little village at the edge of the Hinterlands that was situated south of the Bannorn. The party trotted slowly down the main road of the village and dismounted outside the tired village tavern, _Dane’s Refuge_.

Alistair laughed as he passed under the swinging tavern sign and followed Leliana into the quiet tavern.

‘Maker help me, I’d completely forgotten about this place.’ he exclaimed.

‘I don’t see how? A group of Loghain's men tried to arrest you, Sierra and Morrigan just over there by the door.’ recalled Leliana as she settled at a small table by the fire. ‘They meant business, that’s for sure.’

‘And you came to help us.’ added Alistair, joining his companion at a tired wooden table. ‘Maker what a lousy time that was. We’d woken up in Morrigan mother’s dwelling in the Korcari Wilds after the Battle of Ostagar. Picture a damp ridden hut reeking of strange smells and infested with bugs. That should set the scene. By the good graces of the Maker we managed to walk out of there alive and by the time we’d cleared the forest and stepped foot on the Bannorn all we could think about was a hot meal and warm bed.’. He cast his eyes around the tavern. ‘We were hoping for that here and all we got was sass from Loghain’s louts. That was the first time you and I met. Here, in this place.’

Leliana grinned, looking around the tavern. ‘It hasn’t changed, has it?’

Alistair’s face revealed that he was not impressed. ‘It looked decrepit fifteen years ago. Now it’s just…’. He paused, realising his companion had brought him here for sentimental reasons. ‘-…full of character.’

Poking Alistair in the ribs, she laughed as he playfully winced. Leliana pulled up a menu lying on the table and ran her eyes over it.

‘It’s a dive, Alistair. The food is grotesque, the drinks are worse, but the company is all I ever wanted.’ admitted Leliana, throwing him a smile. ‘I thank the Maker I was here at that very moment to cross your path. Life is strange like that, no? Sometimes the darkest times of life bring forth a sapling that grows into something beautiful. I just never realised how beautiful it was until now.’

Alistair’s hand gently squeezed Leliana’s, a small smile growing on his lips. ‘I wish I’d see how beautiful it was sooner.’ he confessed. ‘Perhaps we could have spared ourselves a lot of heartbreak. Who would have thought all those years back that we would be here again. You and I together.’

Sneakily he quickly pecked her on the cheek and Leliana grinned. Keen to take it further, she moved her lips to his and planted several soft kisses. Alistair cupped her face tenderly and the pair became lost in their embrace before they were interrupted by a sharp _ahem. _

Standing beside the table, a grubby looking bar tender with an even grubbier cloth in his hand peered at the pair.

‘Can I get you anyfing?’ he grumbled, wiping their table with the sticky cloth. ‘House special for today is black puddin’ and stew.’

Alistair grimaced and Leliana giggled.

‘Oh no no no! No food for us,’ declined Alistair hastily ‘maybe just a quick drink? Something strong in alcohol…you know, something that disinfects wounds or along those lines.’

The bar tender narrowed his eyes at Alistair. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere? You look like someone.’. His brow creased as he pondered before snapping his fingers. ‘That’s it! You look the spittin’ image of Emperor Gaspard!’

‘Maker help me.’ groaned Alistair.

‘He gets that all the time.’ laughed Leliana.

The bar tender tilted his head, eyeing up the man with curious fascination. ‘Yeah it’s uncanny, you got strong Orlesian features. You got kin over there?’

‘Uhh no I’m pretty sure I’ve got a strong Ferelden bloodline.’ replied Alistair with an amused frown.

‘If I were you I’d go to Orlais and join the theatre.’ advised the bartender. ‘They’d pay handsome for a lookalike Gaspard. My friend is a troubadour and let me tell you _he gets coin_. Probably get more coin than what you do right now.’

‘I get paid pretty well.’ protested Alistair with grin. ‘In fact I believe I’m doing quite well.’

Leliana scoffed, waving her hand to dismiss Alistair. ‘Look at him talking like he’s the king of Ferelden.’

The bar tender chuckled, nodding at Leliana. ‘Aye he says he’s got coin but I bet you’re paying for lunch today.’

‘Don’t I always?’ teased Leliana, ignoring Alistair’s shocked face.

‘Great, so I’m a welching Gaspard impersonator now?’ complained Alistair. ‘Well, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite for stew.’

‘You’re not getting out of it that easily.’ whispered Leliana in delight.

She looked up to the bar tender with a warm smile. ‘Bring us your best spread of food. And ale. My companion here is going to need lots of ale.’

****

Standing on the battlements, I relished the heat of the midday sun falling on my shoulders as I instructed a group of mages to perform defence spells. Extending my arms up to the heavens, I directed the group to follow.

‘Now if you’ve a reason to defend a keep, this spell is the one you need to learn.’ I instructed. ‘It brings a shield between you and the enemy, but only if you maintain your complete focus. The moment you don’t, the shield will fall and you’ll find yourself riddled with arrows. Or worse.’

The mages watched on quietly as I cast the spell and a clear wall, similar to water rushing down, appeared outside the stone walls of the keep. The group ran over and leant over the parapet, fascinated as to what they saw.

‘It’s gone right to the ground!’ exclaimed one of the mages.

‘And it’s transparent yet I can still see it.’ added another mage.

Letting the spell fade, I nodded in encouragement to the others. ‘Now you try. But quaff a mana potion if you start feeling drained, there’s more than enough in that basket by the steps.’

As the students began to practice, my eyes drifted over to the other side of the battlements into the main part of the keep. A group of soldiers were training in the circle before _The Herald’s Rest_. With swords and shields drawn, the Templars were practicing their technique as Michel de Chevin weaved amongst them, offering instruction where needed. The chevalier swung his blade elegantly in a figure of eight, explaining to the Templars some technique I couldn’t hear from so far up high. Yet he displayed such patience even at the face of several templar’s frustration, always offering a smile and words of encouragement until they mastered the move.

As the keep bell tolled for the lunch break the Templars placed down their weapons, sweltering from their session under the burning sun. Michel patted arms of several Templars as he made his way to the troughs. Hot and exhausted as his companions, the chevalier loosened the white knot of his shirt that was tied at his neck and pulled off his tunic. His rippled bare chest was exposed as he dunked his head in the water trough, flicking back a wet head of golden hair. Beads of water trailed down his muscular torso and when his back turned to grab a cup of water I enjoyed seeing the wideness of his muscular upper back narrow into a firm waist.

‘Something catch your attention down there?’ inquired a voice behind me.

I jumped, turning to see Jowan smirking at my shoulder. His dark eyes wandered down to where Michel was now chatting to a group of Templars on a shaded bench. 

‘He’s very toned, isn’t he?’ teased Jowan.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, he’s married.’ I muttered.

‘My thoughts exactly.’ quipped the mage dryly.

‘I should get back to work.’. Rubbing my eyes tiredly, I turned back to the group of mages as they congregated together and began descending the stairs to the courtyard.

‘You seem distracted?’ observed Jowan, running his eyes over the mages. ‘Not that teaching barrier magic is the most fascinating of subjects. Still, it beats being run through by a bunch of oafs with swords like the ones in the courtyard down there.’

‘I didn’t sleep well last night.’ I mumbled. Throwing Jowan a dark look, I knew I had to tell my friend of what occurred the previous night. ‘Alright, there is something bothering me. Jowan, I think I did something terribly foolish last night. Cullen was drunk and broke into my chambers.’

‘He what?!’ remarked Jowan in surprise.

Waving my hand, I dismissed my friend’s concern. ‘No, that’s not the troubling part. Look he came into my chambers and started mouthing off a bunch of filfth I won’t bore you with. But it was pretty confronting and I may have threatened to cast the blue flame on him. Well, I may have cast it in my hand and told him to shove off.’

Crossing his arms in amusement, Jowan raised a dark brow at me. ‘I’m guessing it didn’t go down too well? I envy you, imagine the fun using that spell on Curly. He must have been seeing red. Did he jump when you cast it? I find people jump out of fright sometimes.’

Slightly disturbed at my friend’s apparent delight at frightening people, I decided now was not the time to raise my concerns. ‘You don’t understand, he’s losing trust in our Order.’ I explained. ‘If there was any trust to begin with? The trust Cullen professed for us mages was tied to him and I being together. I anchored him. And now we’re not together I fear his trust has diminished. Jowan, I feel uneasy being on the wrong side of the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order. We’re not safe working with these Templars. In fact, I don’t think we can trust them.’

The mage chortled at my observation. ‘A rather obvious revelation that I’ve been preaching to you since day one. Forget them, they’re just a bunch of loafs with magic that can’t hurt us. Our magic is powerful and that should reassure you. Certainly I’ve taught you a few gems that would easily deal with a fair few beefy Templars.’. Noticing my concerned face, Jowan frowned. ‘What exactly happened last night? He must have said something to make you cast the blue flame? What did Cullen say?’. His dark eyes searched mine. ‘Something else happened? I can feel it Ophelia.’

Shaking my head, I threw my friend a feigned smile. ‘It was nothing. Forget about it. I should get back to these students.’

Jowan gestured towards the empty battlements. ‘They’ve gone to lunch. So now you can talk.’

‘Look, I wish Michel hadn’t been privy to what Cullen said last night. I certainly don’t want to add you to the list.’ I replied angrily.

‘Michel was there also?’ observed Jowan curiously.

Resting my hands against the parapets I willed my anger to subside. Yet all it did was boil as I recalled the previous night. ‘Perhaps we should embrace blood magic?’ I observed darkly. ‘Faced with the aggression of that Order down there it may be our only chance. I won’t be used by them. I won’t let everything we’ve fought for be crushed by these people. Once Sapientes is defeated we need to be ready.’

His dark eyes drew coldly to the Templars below as Jowan stood by my side. ‘They’ve tranquilised many and murdered even more. They killed Lily and I will never rest until their Order is crushed. Existing peacefully was never my endgame Ophelia.’

‘Do you think I want to wait around to find out whether we can exist peacefully with these righteous pricks?’ I asked darkly.

Jowan shook his head. ‘No, after this mission we cannot go back to the way things were.’

‘Our mages deserve better.’ I added.

‘Then we need to find a place to exist free from the Templars and Ferelden.’ sighed Jowan. He looked to me seriously, drawing my hands into his. ‘Use the tools you have wisely. Your influence over Alistair is strong, despite popular belief. You are the mother to Caerwyn. And whatever advantage you hold over Cullen, _use it._ Find the weakness in his chain and when the time comes we will crush it and be free.’

‘He’s dangerous, Jowan.’ I warned. ‘And he’s convinced you’ve brain washed me into being a blood mage. We are not safe unless we are in his good graces, and let me tell you _we are not. _Cullen is a loyal friend to those he loves, but if he dislikes you he will not stop until you are destroyed. Think of Sierra?’

Jowan frowned as he kept watch on the templars below. ‘This goes against the very fabric of my soul but…I would advise that you keep him close, Ophelia.’

Lifting my eyes to the sky I chuckled bitterly, silently appealing the gods to stop humouring me for their sport. ‘Jowan you don’t know what you’re asking. Cullen desires one thing. To control me.’

‘Let him _think_ he controls you.’ retorted Jowan. ‘By all means, let him think what he wants. If he finds me a threat, tell him you don’t listen to me. That you don’t like me. That you hate magic. Say whatever you need to do to throw him off the scent. He appears willing to turn a semi-blind eye to what we are doing as long when you both are getting along.’

‘So your advice is let Cullen do as he pleases.’ I scoffed. ‘Let him control everyone. Including me?’

‘Cullen’s weakness is you and that means _you control him_.’ explained Jowan. ‘Perhaps it’s time you did, for the sake of our mages? Think on it, but don’t wait too long. He’s a wounded hungry wolf and unfortunately, for now, we are his sheep.’


	151. Playing Games

Furiously Rose passed a group of mages congregating in the cloister as she returned to her chambers that afternoon. They were reciting a spell in unison before an instructing mage, whose arms weaved before the group like a conductor of a fine Orlesian orchestra. A roar of laughter suddenly came over the group as one mage miscast the spell and accidentally caused the fountain in the garden to freeze. Rose halted in her steps, slightly fascinated at the sight before growing horrified as she beheld the instructor cast a fierce flame at the ice, effortlessly melting the water.

Closing the door to the outside world, the Orlesian clasped her breast and drew several anxious breaths. After gaining her composure she proceeded immediately to her travel chest and began to pack her items with determination. By the time the keep bell had tolled for five in the evening she was prepared to leave, and sat on an old wooden chair in silence waiting for her husband to return from his day’s work.

After a long wait footsteps sounded from outside the chamber and the door opened.

Michel entered the room with a tired smile, exhausted from a day of hard training. He appeared subdued as he stepped towards his wife and planted a polite kiss on her cheek. The couple had not gone to sleep on good terms the previous night and Michel had awoken and left for training before Rose had arisen from bed. As a result there was tension between the couple.

‘How was your day?’ he asked, unbuckling his cuirass. Wincing in slight pain, Michel removed the armour delicately. ‘My shoulder could do with a nice hot soak. I must remind myself not to train so hard tomorrow. The Templars up here keep me on my toes as much as the chevaliers do back home.’. The Orlesian paused as he noticed his wife sitting quietly beside her packed travel chest. ‘Rose? Is something the matter?’

The Orlesian lady arose from her seat silently, her eyes angrily glaring at Michel’s as she stood before him.

‘_Imshael_.’ Rose whispered coldly, the word slicing through the room like a sharp blade.

Michel lifted his blonde brows in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You’ve forgotten who Imshael is?’ scorned Rose, clearly unconvinced.

Michel rubbed his jaw uneasily. ‘Of course I know...it’s just, well….where did you hear of that name?’

‘The entire time we’ve been together you never once mentioned that you were chased by a demon named Imshael during the Inquisition.’ Rose accused angrily. ‘And this Imshael; _he possessed you?_ A demon possessed you and you said not one word to me about it. He was going to kill you on the Imperial Highway and Ophelia saved your life. _With_ _blood magic_. From that moment on you’ve been overwhelmed with gratitude for her. Perhaps obsessed with her? Perhaps at her own hand? For what decent person would ever dabble in blood magic if not for their own selfish reasons. You cast aside your values to be with this woman and I am so ashamed.’

Michel frowned. ‘That woman, _Ophelia_, saved my life. She is the only reason I stand here breathing right now. But that was not the reason I pursued her during the Inquisition. And I wasn’t obsessed with her for any dark reasons, if that’s what you are insinuating? She never cast magic on me aside from that one spell to release Imshael from my body. Ophelia isn’t a blood mage.’

The chevalier stirred in annoyance as his wife laughed bitterly at his response, not believing a word to come from his mouth.

‘A chevalier pledges his life to his ruler and the Maker.’ lectured Rose. ‘And instead of honouring them, you pursued one of the Maker’s fallen. Your support for the malificars ran so deep that you ended up escorting Ophelia to Adament Fortress where she tried to remove the Templars from the Inquisition’s protection. She had the audacity to make an ultimatum to these brave soldiers. Cast aside their core values as Templars, or leave.’

The chevalier appeared stunned, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of what was happening. ‘Who told you all this? Where has all this come from?’

‘Someone who apparently was more willing to be honest than my own husband.’ replied Rose curtly. ‘Knight-Commander Cullen had the decency to tell me _everything. _Your entire involvement with Ophelia. Your affair with her behind Knight-Commander Cullen’s back. Your affair with her behind the King of Ferelden’s back. Your involvement with this demon Imshael, who pursued you for years and finally abducted Knight-Commander Cullen and tortured him in some mage tower in Ferelden. Knight-Commander Cullen confessed even the awful parts of those terrible years spent here. That _poor man_ was poisoned by a blood mage and forced to do terrible things with a woman named Josephine. Yet you, _mon cher_, took that moment as an opportunity to take Ophelia from Skyhold and… ’. She swallowed hard, refusing to say any more. ‘I have to leave here. I don’t even know who you are Michel. I am afraid to know.’

Casting his eyes angrily to the door, Michel whispered under his breath. ‘_Cullen, na melana sahlin. Dirthara-ma.’_

Scoffing at the man, Rose shook her head in disbelief. ‘You speak in Elvish to prevent me from hearing slander against a man who deserves your respect?’

‘_Respect_?’ laughed Michel in disbelief. ‘Are we talking about the same person? Rose, you’ve spoken to Cullen once and now believe you know the man? He is not the victim he’s made himself out to be.’

‘I believe you can tell a lot about a person on first impressions.’ dismissed Rose. ‘Cullen is a good man.’

Raising his hand to his head to will away the growing headache, Michel turned away. ‘_Mon dieu, this is lunacy!_ I’ve known Cullen for years and I promise you - he is not a good man. He is aggressive, calculating and extremely possessive. The fact he has taken it upon himself to talk freely about Ophelia and I to you shows how possessive he is, even after all these years.’

‘He told me the truth.’ defended Rose. Sadly she looked at Michel, disappointed at his deception. ‘Who are you? Surely a man that conceals so much of himself from his own wife must have a dishonest heart?’

Michel drew closer to her, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘_I am your husband_. That is who I am. _The man who loves you with all his heart._ There were reasons I did not tell you about those terrible years I experienced here but it was never to deceive you. I was broken from it all. _It broke me, Rose._ And when I returned to Orlais and we met, you knew that something terrible had happened to me. It was unspoken, _yes_, but you knew I had suffered greatly during the Inquisition. Remember what you used to call me in Gaspard’s court at Val Royeaux?’. He tilted his head. ‘_Triste chevalier?’_

‘Yes, you were my sad knight.’ confessed Rose miserably, tears falling down her cheek. ‘But what are you really? If you loved me you would keep no secrets. And here I am faced with so many terrible ones.’

‘I needed a fresh start from my past.’ implored the chevalier. ‘Cullen has told you his side of the story, but I have not told you mine. Will you do me the courtesy of hearing me out? For when you do hear my story you will see that I am not the wicked trickster Cullen has clearly made me out to be.’

Rose shook her head. ‘No, it is too late. I must leave here.’

Michel’s blue eyes tragically appealed to the woman’s, sad and brimming with hurt. Reaching for her hands affectionately, he drew closer to the woman. ‘You would leave me without even hearing my side of the story? Your own husband? You listened to Cullen. Why were you even speaking to him about me? He is cruel by nature, _mon cherie._ It scares me that you were confiding in him.’

‘He offered me a job to help the Templars.’ informed Rose stiffly, pulling her hands from the chevalier’s. ‘I asked to help and he listened.’

‘The Templars? Why in the world would you seek to help the Templars?’ frowned Michel. ‘You have no ties to the Order.’

Rose flashed her husband an angry glare. ‘Jean-Luc served the Order and I feel his spirit wants me to help the Order. So I offered to sew repairs for Templars. They have a great need of someone to repair their uniforms.’

The chevalier scoffed at the woman with reproach. ‘Like a maid? You are of the House of Chevin and Doucy. What would your mother and father say? What would your friends say if they learned you were sewing for coin like a commoner?’

Rose shook her head angrily. ‘No, you will not do that. I have a right to pursue meaningful pursuits up here. A proper lady should always offer charity to those that are in need. If you can aid the Templars then so can I. It would be an honour to serve the Templars in any capacity.’

In disbelief, Michel clutched his blonde hair as he paced the room. ‘Why you of all people?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Why would Cullen ask _you_ for help?’

‘Because he needs someone who can sew repairs.’ snapped Rose.

The chevalier rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the reply. ‘The Knight-Commander of the Templar Order needs _your help_. Do you not think that strange? A man who could hire a hundred professional tailors from across Thedas to aid him, yet he seeks you? A married Orlesian lady with no work experience. _My wife._ Rose do you not see the man has an ulterior motive? He tells you of my past in the hopes to sully me and then offers you a position? Tell me you see through his ruse?’

The woman crossed her arms defiantly. ‘I offered him my services and he graciously accepted. There was no agenda. And the Knight-Commander only informed me of his history with you because he feared you would try and stop me working for him. I argued his rationale and said you would have no issue, _but he was right_. It is _you_ that has an agenda Michel, and that is to prevent me from working with a man you are clearly jealous of.’

Gobsmacked by his wife’s assertions, the chevalier laughed in disbelief. ‘You defend a stranger over your own husband?'. Michel shook his head, the sting of betrayal rendering him speechless. ‘He is a monster, Rose. And you are right to have packed your bags. I will arrange a carriage to come as soon as possible to take you back to Lapin. The sooner the better.’

Rose shook her head. ‘You are mistaken; I pack my bags but not to leave.’

Michel frowned. ‘Then what are you proposing?’

‘I am going to aid the Templars.’ declared Rose ‘But your lies have persuaded me to take other residence while I am here. I would rather sleep in a tent than share another night in your bed.’

‘In a templar tent? This is too much!’ protested Michel. ‘A lady living in an encampment full of soldiers? For a moment let us put aside the inappropriate nature of that proposal, but you’d get six inches of mud on your skirts before you even reached the outside of the keep.’

Her eyes skirted away from his bewildered amusement, irritated at Michel’s ability to turn something serious into humour. ‘Wherever there is a spare bed, as long as it is not here.’ she snapped. ‘I would sleep in the stables. In the templar encampment. _Anywhere_. Just not here with you. Maker help you for you have no idea how betrayed I feel.’

Shocked at her assertions, Michel shook his head sternly. ‘No. _Never, my love._ You are my wife and I will not allow you to sleep anywhere near that Order.’. The chevalier sighed, knowing it was futile to press the matter while Rose was so worked up. ‘Mon Cherie, you stay here and I will find another place to sleep tonight. But first _please_, let me tell you my side of the story. After that I will find other lodgings. After that I will give you all the time you need.’

Rose pursued her lips and nodded. ‘Agreed. I will listen, but you will not order me to leave Skyhold.’

Michel frowned at the woman. ‘Mon Cherie, you are bound to obey your husband? And I am bound to protect you. You cannot work for the Templars. It is not safe.’

The Orlesian lady returned to her chest and began unpacking the items she had neatly folded away. ‘No Michel, things have changed. You lied to me and have put doubt in my heart. Perhaps if that was all I would leave for Lapin. But I now have a purpose and I will not forsake the brave Templars up here. I shall stay here and aid the templar Order, with or without your permission.’

****

Rarely did I find the inspiration to muster a plan worth pursuing so fervently, yet that afternoon I was hit with an epiphany. As I sat in my quiet study, the memory of Cullen taking my phylactery distracted me. Ever since that event had happened I couldn’t get it out of mind. Yet as I looked over the list of names of mages that were to aid our cause it suddenly occurred to me there was a way to protect their futures and prevent their blood being stored away in the White Spire until the day arrived where they would be hunted down. _They could be spared. _The secret lay in their phylacteries and with a little help from the school of arcane illusion and charm. I realised it was possible to deceive the Templars into thinking they were taking the blood of our mages, but only if they agreed to allow Jowan and I to perform the deeds ourselves before the Templars. It was so simple and yet convincing the Templars to allow us to draw the blood would not be.

For several hours I contemplated the path I was considering to take. It was risky, but so too was doing nothing. If Jowan was right then I had to take advantage of the situation before it was too late. I had to strike while the iron was hot.

As nightfall fell upon Skyhold I gathered my books and set out to the templar encampment. The crunch of gravel under my boots alerted the Templars posted at the entrance of the encampment as I arrived at the outpost. It was the first time I’d set foot in their makeshift home and surprisingly they had made it quite the settlement, with many erected large tents covering a vast area that I could not see an end to as I looked down the bank of the Three Arches River.

After inquiring after the Knight-Commander, one templar gave me directions to find the Commander’s tent and kindly offered to carry the several large books I was slugging along with me. I accepted in surprise as the templar led on, willing to carry the burden. Yet I knew the real burden was not in the books I carried but the great responsibility I carried for my mages. If I wasn’t careful they would suffer needlessly. I needed this plan to work.

Arriving at the large white tent of Knight-Commander Cullen, I hesitated at the flap. I knew it had to be this way, but I was also angry to be entertaining a situation I knew wasn’t good for me. A cold breeze swept past me and drawing a deep breath, I pulled the material across and entered.

Seated at his desk by several large candles, Cullen was busy writing away in a large red leather book that looked suspiciously like something representing a Chantry manual. The gold symbol of the Grand Cathedral on the spine was a dead giveaway. Cullen closed it shut as I stepped in the tent, looking over to me with a serious yet silent stare.

‘Can we talk?’ I asked, casting my eyes around the tent. There were swords and shields neatly stacked on a weapon rack, and piles of books and papers in a chest beside the Commander’s desk. A typical templar work space.

With a solemn nod the Commander crossed his arms and settled back into his seat.

‘That all depends on what?’ Cullen observed.

‘_These_.’ I replied, placing my pile of books on his desk. ‘This blue one has the names of every mage that has volunteered to go into the Fade with us on this mission. As requested by your Order. And this black book outlines the plan Jowan and I propose to complete this mission. I’d keep that one safe, you never know whose wandering eyes could give away a plan for the right price.’. I tapped the books, growing silent. ‘And…well, I also think we should talk about last night.’

‘Now’s definitely not the time for that.’ warned Cullen in a low voice, shaking his head. His head nudged to the entrance of the tent. ‘You’ve matters to discuss but there’s little privacy here.’. He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly annoyed. ‘Besides, we’ve nothing to report. And you’ve already said your piece last night. Everyone is at an agreement.’

Silently cursing the man, I knew I had to smart about this. If Cullen was unhappy at this moment _then I was furious_. Yet I couldn’t reveal my true feelings about the matter. I needed to keep the templar close.

With a sigh, Cullen reluctantly reached for the book containing the names. His eyes ran over the list as he perused the pages that contained the names of my mages.

‘We’re going to need to take their phylacteries immediately.’ he advised ‘First thing tomorrow. Arrus and I will be there with four of my men. I’m trusting there will be no antics like last time?’

Biting my tongue, I knew know wasn’t the moment to protest. I needed Cullen to agree to let Jowan and I take the blood of our mages but I knew he would never agree. _Not yet_.

‘Of course, I’ll arrange the mages to meet at Elevensies in our study.’ I replied casually.

‘Very good. All this can wait until tomorrow.’ acknowledged Cullen, his eyes running over the mission book I’d given him. ‘Something tells me I’ll need a fresh mind to read this. It’s rather late so if that’s all you can go. Thank you for giving these to me.’

‘Glad I could help.’ I replied, tapping the desk as I refused to leave. ‘I’ve a few more things to go over with you. It’s the end of the day, perhaps I could walk you back to Skyhold and discuss some mage matters along the way? I fear at our last _meeting_ there were misunderstandings.’

The templar scoffed, clearly dissuaded. His amber eyes flashed at me with coldness. ‘Ophelia, you made your intentions perfectly clear.’

‘So did you.’ I pointed out dubiously. ‘Although perhaps it was the whiskey forcing his way into my room and not the man before me?’

Cullen frowned back. ‘You’re right. I acted inappropriately. As Knight-Commander of the Templar Order I should know better than to drink my fill and enter the senior enchanter’s bed chambers. It does my role no credit.’

My blood boiled as I received his insincere apology with a feigned half-smile. _If indeed that was an apology?_ There was no feeling behind those words. He hadn’t even apologised for acting inappropriately as a person. Only noted that his position dictated better behaviour in regards to entering the private chambers of a _Senior Enchanter_. It was a novelty to be referred to as such. It told me so much about how he truly saw me.

Cullen shook his head in annoyance at my silence. ‘If you have something to say, say it quickly.’ he ordered. ‘As you can see I’m busy and have no interest in wasting any more time here.’

Gently I appealed to him, my voice growing softer as I looked to the man. ‘Cullen, please. I don’t want us to fight.’

Walking around the desk to where he sat my hand fell on his armoured shoulder. His body tensed as he refused to move an inch, yet his amber eyes lifted dangerously to mine.

‘Careful.’ he warned.

Refusing to move I looked down at the templar staring darkly up at me.

‘What should I be careful of?’ I asked sweetly, running my fingers along his cheek playfully.

‘You think this is appropriate?’ asked Cullen, looking to the entrance. ‘Any one of my Templars could walk in right now and see you.’

Nodding, I looked to the entrance pensively. ‘I suppose you’d have to punish me if that happened?’

The Commander tilted his head curiously, as if my words had caught him off guard.

Falling towards his serious face I swiftly kissed the templar on the lips. The Commander allowed me to kiss him, yet he refused to return it as he remained unresponsive. As I pulled away his stern amber eyes were hard on me.

‘This isn’t the place for that.’ he warned again.

‘_Knight-Commander Cullen_,’ I whispered in his ear, feeling his sandy waves of hair through my fingers. My forehead leant affectionately against his. ‘I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday.’

The templar rolled his eyes. Yet his hand subconsciously lifted to my leg, stroking it lightly.

‘Truly? You came here for this?’ he chastised in a lower voice, almost growling the words. ‘This is not a game.’

Shaking my head, I lowered to my knees before him. His amused smirk faded somewhat as he lowered his gaze to where I now knelt.

‘Get up, Ophelia.’ Cullen warned in a husky voice. ‘I’m in no mood for games.’

Shaking my head, I remained on the ground. ‘This is no game. I won’t leave until you forgive me, _Knight-Commander_.’

He nudged his head to the entrance of the tent. ‘Like I said, anyone can walk in you realise?’

‘Yes, but that makes it all the more exciting.’ I teased, throwing him a playful grin. My hands moved to his thighs as I moved under his desk, stroking his legs as the templar shifted in his seat. Torn between the safety of privacy and growing desire, Cullen finally conceded. He reached forward and ran a curious finger down my cheek.

‘You truly seek my forgiveness?’ he asked sternly. ‘The price is not small.’

‘Please, Knight-Commander.’ I grinned.

Cullen raised an amused brow. ‘_Knight-Commander_ again_. _That’s not what you usually call me?’

Shaking my head at him, I knew there was only one way forward if I was to keep him close. _I had to play his game_. ‘You’re not a master and I’m not a pet. I’m a mage and you are my Knight-Commander. I’m your charge and you watch over me. Make sure I behave. And when I don’t…’

Stretching up in his lap, my mouth lifted up to his and I kissed him again. This time the templar returned the gesture with a soft flicker of his tongue between my lips.

With a smirk, Cullen pulled away.

‘So why the change of heart?’ he pressed. ‘You said it was over. I’d have thought after last night you’d be more inclined to come in here and sook about my actions before storming out?’

‘You were drunk, and yes I’m annoyed at what you said to me.’ I replied with a frown. ‘But…I don’t want things to end between us. It is me who should apologise. For ending things when you were only doing your duty. I see that now. And I need to apologise for threatening to cast magic on you. That was terrible. I was upset but I shouldn’t have ever done that to you. I’m so sorry, Cullen. It’ll never happen again. I promise.’

The templar sighed heavily, as if all the anger from him was subsiding. Clasping my chin, he lifted my gaze to his. ‘No, it’s me who should be apologising. I acted terribly last night.’. Running a gentle finger along my cheek, his voice grew softer. ‘Forgive me, Ophelia.’

‘All is forgiven.’ I reassured. My fingers continued to stroke his thigh and he looked down at me with amusement.

‘Comfy down there, is it?’ smirked Cullen.

‘No.’ I mused ‘But I’m enjoying myself. And if you feel the need to punish your charge then you should. I deserve to be punished.’

The templar hissed between his teeth, clearly aroused by the offer. Stroking my hair, he nodded. ‘I suppose you do deserve to be taught a lesson? It’ll be painful, but it’s the price for absolution for a disobedient mage. Would you like your _Knight-Commander_ to absolve you?’

The bulge in his templar trousers protruded enough to make me aware he was aroused. I smiled, knowing my plan was working. Running my hands to his stiff cock, I felt it through the material.

‘Yes Knight-Commander, I want you to absolve me.’

Cullen raised his eyebrow, still unconvinced. ‘Ophelia? Be honest with me. Why the change of heart?’

I shrugged. ‘I was angry but I’ve calmed down. _I love you_. If this is the way it has to be for us then this is the way it has to be.’. My fingers tried to edge his pants down but his belt prevented such mischief. ‘If you need me to be obedient then I’ll try.’

‘You didn’t ask permission.’ warned Cullen. ‘And we’re still in my tent _in the templar encampment.’_

The Commander groaned as I teased his dick through the material, rubbing his hardness back and forth. The Templar’s hands clutched my face as he brought me up to his lap. His hungry mouth fell onto mine, kissing with carnal desire. Warm lips crushed against mine as he pulled me tight against his body, his hands kneading into my thighs and arse as he held me tight against him.

‘I want you.’ he ordered with a growl. ‘In my chambers back in Skyhold. _Now._’


	152. A Chevalier’s Shame

As if stumbling through a hideous dream, Michel de Chevin wandered aimlessly along the dark courtyard at Skyhold. Night had fallen, where the inky shadows of buildings cast by the bright moon ahead threatened to envelop him.

With heavy footsteps the chevalier pressed on, haunted by the memory of Rose’s disappointed face as he recounted every miserable event he had endured during his time at Skyhold, and afterwards in Denerim. His valour implored him to recount all the years with complete honesty, and painfully the chevalier had confessed his entire relationship with Ophelia Trevelyan.

He spoke of how he had kissed Ophelia during the Skyhold Tourney because of his secret desire, scaling a wall with a rose in-between his teeth to the delight of hundreds of spectators. He spoke of their first real kiss in the gardens at Skyhold under the veil of twilight. He confessed he had slept with her in their trip away in Ferelden, consummating in the beauty of a secret garden. He even confessed to being with Ophelia intimately while she was married to King Alistair, unable to refrain from his urges even the day after the King and Queen had married. By the end of Michel’s story, Rose was left trembling in distress and Michel was ordered to leave their chambers.

The trauma of those turbulent years had enabled Michel to shut out those memories, and yet now on this night he had been forced to relive them once more. And it physically sent a pain in his stomach, weighing him down until he could barely move his legs forward.

Ascending the stairs of the battlements, the Chevalier’s disposition transformed from shock into blinding fury. With gritted teeth, Michel knew who was responsible for this. It wasn’t Michel’s past actions. It was a Ferelden man with a reputation of causing him nothing but grief.

‘_How dare he do this?’ _whispered Michel furiously._ ‘_What man in their right mind would go to such extremes to ruin a happy marriage? You will explain yourself Cullen _or I will make you_.’

Marching forward along the stone battlements, Michel came to a door he knew all too well. Without hesitation the chevalier kicked the door open and barged in furiously.

‘How _dare_ you interfere with my marriage?!’ Michel yelled angrily, storming into the room only to halt suddenly in his tracks.

Jowan lifted his brows in surprise, his hand mid-air between retrieving a book from his shelf. Wiggling his fingers in a wave, the mage greeted the chevalier in amusement.

‘Come right in.’ welcomed Jowan, finding entertainment in the strange oddity of the hostile diversion. ‘Would you care for a cup of tea?’

The chevalier looked around in confusion. Spinning from corner to corner, it appeared as if he had no idea where he was.

‘This isn’t Cullen’s study?’ he stated in surprise, eyeing the large collection of potions and magical texts on the desk before him. ‘He doesn’t work here.’

The mage joined the chevalier’s side, casting his eyes around the room as if he too were assessing whether it was in fact Cullen’s study.

‘It’s my bedroom these days.’ observed Jowan. ‘Between you and me I think I make better use of the space. The junk Cullen left behind in here was mainly training manuals and empty bottles of Vint Rowan.’. The mage’s eyes flickered in amusement to the chevalier. ‘Or perhaps that’s right up your alley?’

‘Jowan I am so sorry.’ Michel replied hastily, raising his hands apologetically. ‘Goodness…I clearly wasn’t paying attention. My mind was concerned with other matters and I thought for some foolish reason that this was still Cullen’s office.’. The half-elf drew an anguished hand to his pale brow. ‘It felt for a moment as if I was back here during the Inquisition. My mind is playing tricks on me.’

The mage rolled his eyes, retrieving the text he was about to take before being interrupted. Tapping the spine jovially, the mage placed the book neatly on his desk. ‘Oh don’t worry, you’re not the first to think that. That _irritating_ Knight-Commander had the audacity to come here on his first day back, expecting we’d have kept it ready for his return. You should have seen the expression on his face when he discovered that I had taken up residence in his cherished nook. I could have sworn for a moment he expected me to pack up my belongings and find another room. Reveals the arrogance of the man, wouldn’t you say?’

‘He’s more than arrogant.’ scorned Michel. The chevalier clutched his head in anguish, the pain throbbing in his skull becoming unbearable. ‘He’s a demon, Jowan. _An utter demon_.’

The mage curiously patted his bottom lip upon hearing Michel’s disdain for the templar. ‘You give Cullen too much credit. Demons are far more complex. Cullen is more like…a wild dog. Dangerous and unreasonable. Likes to feast on innocent wildlife. More of a pest than anything else.’

‘No.’. The chevalier shook his head violently. His torment was apparent and the flash of desperation in his blue eyes caused Jowan to approach in concern.

‘Goodness, are you well Michel?’ asked the mage.

‘Jowan, I can’t…_I can’t do this_.’ exclaimed Michel desperately. ‘I can’t be here in Skyhold and work with him. My Emperor commands me and I am sworn to serve him….but I cannot bear this anymore. Cullen had gone too far this time. This time he has crossed the line. He’s trying to destroy everything I value. She’ll never look at me the same again. _And for what?!_ For a string of incidents that happened before we met?! I came here to help him! Is this the thanks I get?’. Pacing the room furiously, Michel’s tongue fell to elvish as he began to curse him. ‘_Na melana sahlin._ _Mar solas ena mar din. Na din’an sahlin!’_

Extending his hand to an ornate red velvet chair by the fire, Jowan encouraged the chevalier to sit. ‘Deep breaths Michel, come sit here for a while. I’ll make you a tea to calm your nerves. Please, just for a moment come and rest. I insist.’

Silently the Orlesian sank into the seat. His shoulders slumped forward and his blonde hair spilled over as he lowered his face into his palms.

‘_Ir abelas. _I understand your frustration in regards to Cullen.’ sympathised Jowan. ‘I recognised a little elvish. What you say is true, Cullen’s time has definitely come.

Lost in his thoughts, Michel's eyes fell desperately to the flames before him. ‘He was a bastard back in the Inquisition. Now he’s pure evil. A _banal’ras _attached to me.’

‘Yes a _banal’ras _is quite an apt description. He’s a shadow that haunts us all.’ agreed the mage. ‘None of us are all too keen on the man up here, you’re in good company.’

Swiftly Jowan reached for a small black pot on his mantelpiece and sprinkled some of the contents within into a cup. He then scooped water from the cauldron hanging over the fire and brought it back to the chevalier.

‘Here, drink this and you’ll feel better.’ Jowan encouraged.

Michel looked at the brew apprehensively. ‘This…isn’t dark magic is it?’

Jowan raised an amused brow as he sat beside the Orlesian. ‘If you call dried lavender, lemon balm and chamomile _dark magic _then lock me away.’

‘Sorry.’ apologised Michel, accepting the tea graciously. The chevalier sipped at the brew, breathing out heavily as he settled back into the chair. ‘Thank you. It’s very fragrant.’

‘So what did Cullen do? You must tell me.’ implored Jowan. Bursting with curiosity, he nodded in encouragement. ‘Like I say to my students, there’s no problem too big that we can’t manage.’

Michel nodded, taking another sip of tea. ‘Perhaps it will help to speak about it?’ he resided. ‘You first must know that my time during the Inquisition is not something I recall with fondness. I have fought battles, endured hardships and risked my life more times than I can recall…_but none of that compares to the torment of being here during those years_.’

The mage nodded in understanding. ‘It wasn’t the best for me either.’

‘I never told my wife about those years here.’ confessed Michel. He took another sip of tea and swallowed several hard gulps. ‘When I met Rose I wanted to start a new life. One that did not involve Cullen or Leliana, or even Ophelia. Rose knew I was in a brief relationship with Ophelia, but I withheld much of our time together. It was as if finer details of the Inquisition never happened. And I kept it that way for my own sanity.’

‘You did what you felt was needed to move on.’ acknowledged Jowan. ‘There is nothing wrong with that.’

‘Today while I was busy training his Templars, Cullen took it upon himself to inform my wife of every excruciating detail of my relationship with Ophelia.’ continued Michel darkly. ‘For _hours_ they spoke. He left no stone unturned. But that is not the worst of it. He’s painted me the adulterer who consorted with demons and committed treason to the King of Ferelden. My wife returned to our chambers this evening a complete mess. She believes I am the terrible one who caused pain to Cullen. _She blames me, Jowan. Me?!_ This is the same man that ran Sierra through the stomach with a long sword and left her body in the Orlesian swamps to be eaten by vultures. Cullen has brain washed Rose in the space of a day. What sort of devilry is he playing at? Why would he go to such effort to bring such dark days to her attention?’

Surprised at the chevalier’s confessions, Jowan shook his head in disbelief. ‘Cullen told her all that? Did you do something to anger him? Is there a motive behind all this?’

Laughing bitterly, the chevalier turned to the man with a cynical look. ‘Do I ever need one where Cullen is involved?’

‘I suppose not. You have my empathy.’ frowned Jowan. The mage looked into the fire, a darkness falling across his face. ‘For all Cullen could have said to your wife there are many things that templar has done himself that are unforgivable. Did you tell your wife about Sierra? The entire story of how her life ended by Cullen’s hand?’

‘She claims Cullen did it for honourable reasons.’ replied Michel in disbelief, shaking his head at the mage. ‘Can you believe it? Apparently he was justified in his actions because Sierra was a blood mage. Rose hates blood mages enough to be fooled with such an excuse.’

Jowan scoffed. ‘Yes Cullen was so honourable to kill a lone woman in the woods. _Heroic._’

‘You should have heard how she defended Cullen.’ informed Michel bitterly. ‘My love stood there before me, fighting me to defend that templar. At every turn she defended him. When I told her that Cullen had chased Ophelia away to Kirkwall years back, Rose replied that he was only acting as any rightful templar would. When I told her of the time Ophelia had sported a black eye from Cullen because of some spell she tried to cast, Rose replied again that it was justified_. Really?_ How is a beating from a man ever justified!’

Jowan stirred angrily, a dark look on his face. ‘It appears there are some stories that even I don’t know about.’

‘Well I had the pleasure of witnessing the aftermath as Ophelia sat there on the stairs of the keep all bruised and still defended him.’ informed Michel stiffly. ‘Cullen has this unnatural hold over women. Let me tell you, that man is violent and reprehensible. Only last night I went to see Ophelia in regards to some matters about the Eluvian. She was in her chambers and I entered unannounced because I heard shouting from within. What I stumbled across was disturbing. There she was, forced to her knees by that drunkard templar.’

Jowan cast the chevalier a concerned look. ‘She mentioned Cullen was there but refused to say what happened. What did he do, Michel?’

The chevalier shook his head, unwilling to recount the night’s events. ‘It’s not something I wish to repeat.’

‘Please, I need to know.’ pressed the mage. ‘She’s my friend too, although I’m all too aware she keeps a lot untold when it comes to Cullen. I need to know exactly what kind of threat Cullen is to her.’

The chevalier looked away uncomfortably. ‘They were arguing. Cullen had her on the ground and she was trying to get up but he wouldn’t let her. He said he wouldn’t let her go until he….excuse my words, they were his…_until she was _whipped for insolence and _he fucked her until an inch of her life and she had sucked on his_…_well_. He mentioned several violent profanities I care not to mention.’. Rubbing the blonde stubble of his jaw uneasily, the Orlesian appeared gravely disturbed. ‘If I hadn’t arrived then and broke them up I fear to think what would have happened?’

Clutching his hands together pensively, the mage fell into silence. ‘No wonder she cast the blue flame.’ Jowan murmured. ‘She’s starting to see what we’re up against. I knew something must have happened for her to admit that we’re in over our heads. _Ophelia, why didn’t you tell me_?’

‘She was embarrassed, of course.’ muttered Michel. ‘Imagine dealing with that side of Cullen? Between you and I, it’s clear he has been treating her roughly for years.’. The chevalier’s head fell, his eyes shutting in torment. ‘She… she _never_ told me once about how Cullen treated her. The entire time we were together she never mentioned how Cullen was. Why did she never say anything? It pains me, _and sickens me_, _and makes me so angry_. My heart weeps for her. I just feel so…’

‘Goodness what have I done?’ interjected Jowan in alarm.

Casting his blue eyes up, Michel frowned. ‘Done?’

Jowan frowned. ‘I spoke with her at lunch. She was upset but she didn’t tell me the entire story. I just thought it was another one of their bickers. But I implored her to stay close to Cullen.’. He laughed bitterly, shaking his head in reproach. ‘Like the cretin that I am, I gave her those pearls of wisdom. Stay close.’

‘Why would you ever recommend such a thing?!’ chastised Michel.

‘_Sierra_.’ answered Jowan darkly, casting his brown eyes to the chevalier. ‘Ophelia warned me Cullen was growing more difficult since she told him it was over. She was beginning to fear him. Cullen’s been saying some disturbing things to her. Accusing her of being a blood mage. It’s not the sort of thing you want the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order saying about you.’

‘Why would he accuse her of that?’ asked Michel.

Jowan raised his hands, implying he was guilty. ‘Apparently, according to Cullen, you are the company that you keep. When Ophelia told me that Cullen had accused her of being a blood mage I feared what he would do if they became enemies. Cullen loved Sierra once and then he killed her because she was a blood mage. Who’s to say Ophelia won’t be next?’

Swallowing hard, Michel shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think Cullen would ever do that.’

‘Really?’. Jowan clenched his jaw. ‘Growing up in the Kinloch Hold, I witnessed first-hand when Cullen and Sierra grew close and started a relationship. They were besotted with each other. It was the kind of love you feel envy witnessing, even when you have no feelings for either party. He was obsessed with her and she was obsessed with him. I warned her to be careful.’. The mage rolled his eyes in disgust. ‘Clearly I have a knack of befriending women who require my constant warning of the dangers of Cullen. Being her best friend I was torn between wanting Sierra to be happy and wanting her to be safe. But the way they were together Michel, something felt so…wholesome about it. Cullen let down his guard with her and she became less of a prisoner and more of a person. They were just two people in love. Whatever happened in later years, there was no justification for Cullen to take Sierra’s life in such a violent way. He truly loved her, I don’t question that. And when Sierra left to be a Grey Warden he perhaps knew he had lost her. And when Cullen realises he doesn’t have a hold over his love…._he grows cold_. Detached. _And murderous_.’

Michel shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘I fear for my wife. She cannot work for this man. He is dangerous.’

‘What about Ophelia?’ muttered Jowan, casting a dark look to the chevalier. ‘Does she not get a skerrick of concern from you these days? She’s the one Cullen is actually after.’

The chevalier lowered his head once more, refusing to meet his companions accusing glare.

‘You know I care for Ophelia, Jowan.’ confessed Michel quietly. ‘I always worry about her.’

Jowan nodded silently. ‘I know. I remember when I visited Denerim before the royal wedding. You were there with her. You never abandoned her. And I remember at the time finally realising that you truly did love her.’

‘I have a wife now.’ dismissed Michel. ‘Things are different. I do not think of Ophelia that way.’

With a shrug, the mage returned his gaze to the fire. ‘Either way, we need to deal with Cullen once and for all. There will come a time when Ophelia and I will need your support. There will come a day when Ferelden will not be safe for us anymore. Our days of freedom are numbered unless we have your help.’

Michel turned his head curiously to the mage. ‘You and Ophelia will always have my support. But I doubt I have much sway in regards to Templars and mages? The chevaliers are not involved with the Chantry.’

‘In Orlais things are different.’ observed Jowan. ‘In Orlais, one so close to the Emperor has reason to recommend the power of certain allies that would seek refuge at his court.’

‘You wish to flee to Orlais with Ophelia?’ exclaimed Michel in surprise. ‘Gaspard is not fond of mages.’

Jowan raised a brow to the chevalier. ‘Perhaps he is fond of welcoming the heir to the Ferelden Throne at his court? And Devine Victoria’s child also? Imagine the power that promises in future years? Two children that grow up in his court are bound to see him as an ally and friend. Something to think about in future days when they grow up and step into their own powerful roles.’

‘Caerwyn and Valahorn?’ exclaimed Michel. ‘Alistair will never allow his daughter to be raised in an Orlesian court. Not the first in line to the throne.’

‘Ophelia may see things differently.’ responded Jowan. ‘She’s been kept from her daughter by Alistair. If you spoke to Ophelia about this you’d realise her endgame is taking Caerwyn and fleeing Ferelden. She will not abandon her to a life in that Palace, shaped by the claws of Eamon Guerrin.’

The chevalier nodded sadly. ‘What Alistair did to Ophelia was wrong. To force her to marry and then bear his child. I can understand why she would wish to take her daughter and leave. But if she did escape and fled to Gaspard’s court surely it would be the start of a war between Ferelden and Orlais.’

‘By all means a war could break out, but Ferelden would be the first to strike.’ replied Jowan, casting a dark pair of eyes to the chevalier. ‘And perhaps that’s what Gaspard has been long desiring but has never been able to achieve? He knows he can’t wage a war on Ferelden without being viewed across Thedas as a devil. He’d gain no support. _But_ if he provided solace for a fleeing Queen consort and princess, Gaspard would definitely win the sympathy of Antiva. Perhaps even your long time Nevarran foes? They all have issues with Ferelden. With Alistair’s daughter and his ex-wife in his court Gaspard has leverage. _And power_. And with my son in his court, _the child of the Devine_, we will have the Anders support. They are religious zealots. Gaspard would be drunk with power. All we’d ask in return is a safe haven for all mages and a loosened templar presence in Orlais.’

‘Orlais houses the Chantry and the White Spire.’ frowned Michel. ‘It’s a big ask to loosen the templar presence there.’

Jowan shrugged. ‘Everything comes with a price I suppose? Gaspard will have to weigh that up.’

Michel rubbed his jaw in contemplation. ‘In doing this; you, Ophelia and your children would be safe. But Cullen would still pursue her. You know as I do that Cullen would cause trouble for all of us?’

‘His position as Knight-Commander is more important to him.’ refuted Jowan. ‘He’ll keep put in Ferelden as long as the Chantry dictates. And your Emperor has a great influence over the Chantry…_so, there’s that_.’

Michel nodded silently. ‘I must think on this, it is not the type of thing one mentions to a ruler without careful thought. And now is not the time. We must complete this mission first. What you propose could break out into a war that causes the death of many.’

‘Look around you, Michel.’ sighed Jowan tiredly. ‘We’re already at war. You could be responsible for saving the lives of _so many more_ if you seek to promote the plight of the mages in Orlais to Emperor Gaspard. You would be a hero no Champion could match. Every elven child, human child, and half-blood child. They would all see you as their saviour. The man who fought for the rights of all people; both mage and non-mage.’

Michel turned to the mage darkly. ‘You do not need to win me over with promises of laurels. A better future for those with arcane gifts is a noble pursuit. A better future for you and Ophelia, and both your children. _This could happen._ All I desire is Cullen dealt with. This future you speak of brings promise but not with him around.’

Jowan flicked his brows casually, rising from his seat with a smile. ‘That can be arranged when the time comes. Like you said; _na melana sahlin._’

‘Yes.’ agreed Michel, gripping his cup with white knuckles. ‘His time has come. _Na melana sahlin. _Cullen, your time has come.’


	153. In the Service of Knight-Commander Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *********NSFW***********

With an arm wrapped tight across my chest and urgent kisses at my back of my neck, Cullen barely waited for the door to close as we entered his chambers back in Skyhold. His deft fingers fumbled for the lock as he spun me around roughly, diving into a deep kiss. Swiftly he began undressing me without a word, several buttons coming loose as he forcefully ripped open my tunic, tossing aside garment after garment between kisses. 

‘Cullen wait-’ I protested as he pulled off my top, exposing my bare torso.

‘I’m done waiting.’ he growled, lowering my pants as he sunk to his knees. Pulling off my boots one by one he kept his eyes on my naked body with a smirk. ‘You’ve grown modest, have you?’

‘No, I’d just feel better if you didn’t have that sinister glint in your eye.’ I scoffed.

‘There is no need for shyness.’ lectured Cullen in amusement, running his eyes up and down my body as he stood before me. ‘You’ll come to learn this is how I expect to see you. Naked and willing to please. _Whenever I want_.’

‘I always please you.’ I mused, causing Cullen to laugh.

‘No, you're always trouble and then need to be punished.’ corrected the templar. ‘And Maker help me, I’m happy to oblige.’

I started to unbuckle his cuirass and Cullen permitted me to aid him in removing the metal armour. His pauldrons and gauntlets came off, loudly cast aside on the stone floor. However when it came to his white shirt and black trousers Cullen shook his sandy head and stepped away.

‘No. It’s time for you punishment.’ he informed darkly, a wicked smile forming on his scarred lip. ‘Tonight it is necessary that you suffer for my pleasure. I expect nothing less than your complete submission. _You will surrender._ You know this, don’t you?’

‘Yes, _Knight-Commander_.’ I replied with a grin.

Cullen flashed a wink. ‘That’s the way. Now…I confess you’ve caught me a little unprepared. My collection of weapons are all back at camp. So, _what to use?_’ he pondered to himself before snapping his fingers. ‘Yes, I think my riding crop will be sufficient. Simple, but sufficient.’

Retreating to his personal chest in the corner of the room, he opened up the oak case and retrieved a long and thin horse whip. Black and rigid. The templar whistled a pleasant tune as he also pulled out several loops of rope that he wrapped around his hand and elbow firmly.

‘The crop looks simple enough but the sting this produces when struck precise is _excruciating_.’ Cullen informed pleasantly. ‘It’s going to hurt and I’m going to enjoy using it on you.’

My skin shivered at his pleasant warning. It had been a long time since the Command had whipped me and I knew he was going to make up for it.

Drawing a rope between his hands, the Commander gently turned me around and began to tie my hands behind my back.

"You will submit yourself to my control, _mage_. You shall bear my will on your body.’ he informed, tying a tight knot so my wrists were bound.

‘Yes Knight Commander.’

A soft laugh came behind me as Cullen lowered to his knees. ‘_Knight-Commander._ So official. I always insist being addressed by my proper title from my subordinates. You’re not a templar but you are a mage and therefore under my authority. I expect you to always address me by my proper title from now on.’.

The rope wrapped bound my ankles as Cullen tied another knot sharply.

‘I’ve tied up my fair share of mages before.’ he confessed darkly. ‘The rope around the ankles always needs to be done firmly_. Of course, it's also fun chasing down a mage trying to escape._’

My heart thumped loudly as I stood there, unable to walk. Even standing was hard to keep balance. I gasped as I suddenly felt the templar lift me from around the waist, and carried me to his desk. Roughly he placed me face down on the table, the sharp stacks of papers and tickle of feather quills pushing against my face as my back was on display for him to do as he pleased. His devious fingers traced down my spine, and fell to my arse where teasing fingers ran up and down my cheeks.

‘Tell me what kind of mage you’ve been?’ he asks sternly. Cullen’s footsteps sound heavy on the floorboards as he steps away. ‘Your Knight-Commander has watched over you for some time. I know what kind of mage you’ve been. But I need to hear the words from your mouth.’

_‘Thwip!’_

Without warning I feel the first sting of the crop landing on my right arse cheek, the whip stinging my flesh with unforgiving precision.

‘A disobedient mage.’ I gritted in reply, knowing any answer will surely be the wrong one this soon in the game.

‘Not just that. _What else have you been_?’ Cullen demanded, placing another sharp lick of the crop on my other cheek.

Wincing, I shuddered as the crop hit my tender skin.

‘Tell me.’ he hissed, striking my upper thigh several times.

Crying out in pain at the whip hitting my tender skin, I tried to get up but his hand pressed down firmly on the flat of my back.

‘Stay put or it gets so much worse.’ he warned darkly. ‘Now tell me.’

Again he stroked my flesh, whipping hard in a serious of _whips._ He refused to focus on just one place, and artfully he stroked my body with stings. With great pleasure the templar groaned as he struck my arse several times with increasing stamina, now focusing on one direct line across both cheeks. My cries of pain were stifled by his vocal moans, growing louder on each blow placed. Something wet trickled from my skin as I realised my skin had broken, blood spilling freely. Cullen’s noises of pleasure revealed his approval as he ran a finger across the wound, refusing to release the pressure of his digit as I squirmed beneath his touch.

‘It must hurt?’ he acknowledged in a deep and lustful tone. ‘Are you in pain, mage?’

‘Yes, Knight-Commander.’ I grimaced, feeling his finger press further into my broken flesh. ‘It hurts when you do that.’

'I know.' he replied calmly.

Suddenly I cried out in pain as I felt the whip contact my buttocks yet again, this time harder than the other times.

‘What are you?’ demanded Cullen.

‘I’m…a disobedient mage who wants to serve you, Knight-Commander Cullen.’ I whimpered. ‘Thank you for punishing me.’

"Yes you are, my charge." The crop licked again. And again_. And again_. Over and over. Rhythmically, its bite punctuated each deliberate word he voices. "You - are - a - dirty - lewd - greedy - lustful - juicy - salacious - wicked - mage - aren't - you - my - charge?

‘Yes, Knight-Commander.’ I cry out, my skin burning with pain. _Please make him stop._

Cullen continued to whip tirelessly, unceasingly, rhythmically, one cheek, then the other, back and forth. It feels like he’s shredding my skin apart and I fear he’ll never stop.

‘Cullen you’re hurting me.’ I appeal desperately.

‘It's for your own good.’ he replied sternly. ‘Keep going. What - else - are - you - mage?"

My hips twist, first one way, back again, dipping and rising, dancing to the stinging tune he plays upon me. Fire wells up from deep within. My inner thighs tremble and yet also I feel the wetness trickle from between. "I am yours.’ I moan, knowing I need to surrender to this. _It’s the only way forward._

"You - are - that - indeed - mage - and - what - else - besides?" he growls, whipping at each lustful word that roars from his mouth.

  
  
Bucking in time with his strokes, I moan in pain and pleasure, yielding what he demands of me. "I am - I am – an unchaste charge that needs to be fucked by a templar!" I cry, piteously.

"What - else - mage?" The crop flails me again. And then harder. _And then even harder. _

Crying out in agony, I muffle my sobs into the desk as Cullen continues to crop my skin. My vision is growing white as I fade out from the sensation of blinding pain.

"I - I - am - am – anything you want me to be!" I sob.

  
  
The strikes ease, softening their bite to milder taps that burn no less for all their gentleness. "Yes, charge, you are whatever _I want you to be_.’ informs Cullen sternly. ‘Every action you do is to please me. Every thought is bound to me. Everything that you are _is for me._ I control you.’

  
  
"Yes, Knight-Commander.”

Cullen’s hands gently caress my inflamed arse and thighs. ‘Shhh.’ he purrs ‘No more tears now. You’ve absolved yourself.’. His shirt brushes against my back; his whisper feathers my ear. "You need to spend, don't you my love?"

‘Yes.’ I beg.

His lips tenderly fall to my back and kiss along my spine as the sound of his belt unbuckling comes from behind me. I hear his trouser fall as I remain flat against his desk.

‘Your Knight-Commander has something for you.’ he growls, rubbing his cock at the entrance of my wet cunt. He eases in, groaning as he sinks his large dick effortlessly into me.

‘Maker.’ he moans ‘It’s as if you were made for my cock. The way it shapes me so perfectly.’

‘Fuck me.’ I beg, pushing against his hips as he thrusts into me.

Laughing in pleasure, the templar begins to stroke in and out. ‘Oh, I’ll fuck you.’ he reassures. ‘Bad mages get punished but good mages get fucked by templars.’

Roughly Cullen unleashes himself, fucking with deep hard strokes that send my body lunging forward on the desk at every thrust. I cry out, edging closer on each stroke of his rock hard dick. As much as I hate the pain of his punishments, I love the feeling of this large warrior’s body crushing over mine and ramming his giant cock into me.

‘Hold off sweetie.’ Cullen whispers at my ear. ‘You don’t come until your Knight-Commander tells you. And right now, I’m going to fuck your cunny for a while.’

His filthy words only send me further over the edge. Honeyed words that spill from a sadistic mouth. Grunting into every thrust with all his weight, Cullen sinks his cock in and out. My body surrenders to him, and all I can focus on is being fucked.

"Good charge.’ he growls ‘Now, I know you're in distress. I know you feel you cannot bear the fullness of your sex even a moment more without it bursting like an over-ripe fruit. But you have to hold just on a little more. A templar needs to enjoy using his mage for as long as his need pleases.’

‘Yes Knight-Commander, please use me for your pleasure.’

‘That’s the way.’ Cullen groans, his hips bucking hard at my words. ‘Fuck yes, I intend to.’ he replies breathlessly as his hands roughly grabbed my breasts and begin pinching at my nipples between his fingers. ‘Look at these hard grapes. Maker you’re a whore, aren’t you? ’

I cry out as Cullen elongates my nipples in painful stretches. He thrusts angrily as I moan, enjoying the pain he is causing. Harder and harder he continues, edging me closer until I’m begging breathlessly between whimpers and moans.

‘Come for me.’ he orders suddenly. ‘Be a good mage and come now for your Knight-Commander.’

Crying out in pleasure I release myself, coming hard on his relentless hard cock driving in and out in deep thrusts. I loose count of how many times I come, each time grows stronger as he thrusts hard. Finally I’m coming down and he pulls out, and lifts me from the table where I’m still breathlessly panting.

‘Now on your knees.’ he orders, positioning me before him as my hands and ankles remain tied.

The floor is cold as I kneel, the burn of my whipped flesh returns to my mind as I return to reality. Cullen’s hard erection stands before me, engorged and glistening. The Templar’s sandy hair is dishevelled, and the wild haze in his amber eyes tells me he is drunk with lust.

"See what you do to me, mage?’ informed Cullen sternly, rubbing his hard dick up and down slowly. ‘Your suffering has brought me to this state. Your pain is my pleasure, but without release it is my pain too. My cock down your throat and you drinking my seed is your reward."

_It’s clearly his reward, I think to myself. Cullen loves to dominate me with this act of feeding me his cream. His kink needs to be satisfied and I know what needs to be done._

  
  
I open my mouth for him. His purple headed cock twitches as I draw near, shuffling towards him on my knees. Guiding himself with his hand, the templar presses his flesh, hot and throbbing, just between my parted lips and sighs his pleasure.

‘That’s the way.’ he encourages. ‘Good…._good_. Take you Knight-Commander into you.’

  
  
I can hardly think with the sensations assaulting me. His cock, at rest, lying in patient wait between my pursed lips; my nipples tingling; my arse and thighs burning in pain; my vulva, beating with its own moist, throbbing pulse.

  
  
"Let me fuck your mouth now." Cullen orders. ‘Your Knight-Commander needs to come.’

Opening my mouth invitingly wide, I bid him a warm welcome with a wet tongue and satin lips. Tasting him, I savour one drip of milky cream melting out from his slit. Cullen twitches again and my throat vibrates with a shaken moan. His fingers flex in my hair and his breath hisses as my moan dies. Fluidly I sculpt his cock with my tongue. Holding him wrapped in my mouth, I begin to suckle upon his hard shaft.

  
With one hand in my hair he tilts my head back, elongating my throat to accommodate him.

"Relax now," he orders, at the very instant he slides himself out to the very tip. "I want to fuck your mouth, not make love to it." he rasps, working himself back in firmly.

  
His hands clench into my hair, and sliding my head up, then down, he pulls himself almost free before driving forward in a thrust that just nudges my throat. As I splutter, he groans. Back and forth, over and over, he penetrates me until I take his entire large intruder. It is almost primeval, the way he pumps me, with resolute, cruel, forceful strokes - self-gratifying thrusts meant solely for his own self-satisfaction. My lips swell painfully against his savage ravishment. Yet I suck upon him willingly - even greedily - driven by my own desire to fulfil my purpose in the heat of the moment; the pleasure I find in serving him. Every time I choke on his hardness, struggling to control that reflex, it appears to make Cullen more excited as he defiantly pushes deeper with a satisfied groan.

Lifting my chin further up and back, he lengthens me to the limit for the full impaling he intends. My eyes widen as his cock glides past the back of my throat. Smiling ruthlessly, Cullen casually feeds me more until I am finally, deliberately transfixed on his thick heat. Breath held in check, my lashes flicker, then flutter softly closed. My tight swallow ripples around the hardness filling my throat.

‘_Look at me_.’ he growls.

He holds me arrested there; hand firm in my hair to keep me still, eyes baring intensely into mine. The seconds pass. I can do nothing but yield the harbour he insists on, deep in my throat. Fighting my distress, I surrender myself to his will for his pleasure. At last he smiles his satisfaction, loosening his merciless hold on my head and draws leisurely in retreat. I am permitted no more than a deep gasp of breath before he sinks himself smoothly and deeply, filling my throat once more.

  
  
With a skill drawn from the Commander’s experience, he keeps me teetering precariously between utter surrender and wild despair. Held immobile by his hands, with his straining cock buried deep in my throat, I am at his mercy. Under his control, I am made utterly submissive. And the wicked smile on his face tells me Cullen realises he has me exactly where he wants.

‘Here it comes, mage.’ he growls, pumping himself faster now. ‘Take it all. Taste your Knight-Commander.’

  
  
With tight fists he grabs my head forcefully as he withdraws and then thrusts deep into my throat one last time to release his cream with a loud moan that fills the room. His amber eyes lock onto mine as I blink mutely up at him, receiving his several splashes of seed as he feeds it in animalistic grunts.

‘Yes, swallow it.’ he purrs with small thrusts probing my mouth filled entirely with his seed as I choke down the white sticky gulps. ‘All of it. You need to take me into you however I choose. That’s the way it is now. Good girl. What a good mage you are.’

Finally the templar pulls out, a satisfied haze in his eyes. Gently he reaches down and unties the ropes, kissing my wrists as he releases me. His hand gently falls to my arse and thighs, examining the damage.

‘It’ll heal soon enough.’ he reassured. ‘I’ve some oil I can rub on that. But first take a bath, there’s fresh water in it. A little cold, but it’ll clean the wounds. Is the pain bad?’

Throwing Cullen a grimace, I nodded with an uncertain laugh. ‘It kills.’

‘Sorry.’ apologised the Commander, drawing me up into his arms. Placing a kiss on my cheek, Cullen falls close to my ear. ‘I couldn’t help myself. You were just so…._exquisite_. It makes me so hard and savage.’

‘Please don’t force me into a cold bath now.’ I pleaded jokingly.

Lifting me gently up with a grin, he carried me to the wooden tub.

‘It’s for your own good. This will be cold, but stay for a while.’ he encouraged, placing me into the water as I squealed.

‘It’s freezing!’ I protested.

‘Stay.’ ordered Cullen with an amused chuckle. ‘Wash while I’m gone. Then sit by the fire until I return.’

‘Where are you off to now?’ I frowned, watching the templar pull on his shirt, pants and boots.

‘I don’t know about you but I’m ravenous.’ replied Cullen with a wink. ‘I’ll be back with some food.’

****

Silently I ate, pushing the food around with my fork. Seasoned roast winter root vegetables were usually palatable but on this night I didn’t want one bite.

The atmosphere in the room was _odd_. Cullen had returned with food but to my surprise his controlling role-play had not finished. Before dinner the templar rubbed oil on my wounds, admiring the strokes formed on my red arse as he lectured softly to me about how a mage should always submit to a templar. His warm voice cooed in encouragement as I allowed him to dress my wounds as I lay across his lap by the fire. Cullen appeared aroused as he tended to my cut flesh. I played along obediently, but I soon wished he would come down off his sadistic cloud. Finally the Commander suggested we eat and I gladly agreed, wincing as I sat before my meal.

‘They’re good for you.’ encouraged Cullen, noticing I hadn’t touched my vegetables. ‘You should eat them.’

‘No I'm not hungry. I’m worried about tomorrow.’ I confessed, pushing my plate away.

Cullen grabbed my forked and skewered a piece of purple carrot, feeding me it with a grin. I reluctantly ate it and he chuckled.

‘Good girl.’ he praised. ‘What’s happening tomorrow that’s got you worried?’

‘The phylacteries.’ I reminded softly.

Cullen clasped my cheek affectionately. ‘It’ll be okay, I promise.’

Throwing him smile, I nodded. ‘I know, but….’

Placing a gentle hand through my hair, the Commander stroked me kindly. ‘I’m sorry Ophelia, I’ve direct orders from Cassandra. You know what she's like. She wants the phylacteries of all the mages going into the Fade. _I have to take their blood_. Just like I had to take yours. I promise it won’t be like what you experienced.’

My green eyes lifted to him, silently appealing to the man. ‘I know you have to. It’s just…my mages are terrified of your Templars. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but they are scared. They’ve lived for years now without having phylacteries. This is a huge ask of them when all they are doing is risking their lives for your Templars.’ I explained. ‘I know they must. We must follow the rules. You and your men can be in the room supervising the entire thing, _just please let Jowan and I draw our own mages blood._ It will soften the blow for them if one of their own is doing it. Please, it would give me great comfort Cullen if you’d let one of our own draw these mages blood.’

‘It’s not protocol.’ argued Cullen. ‘You know where I stand on these matters. I’ve little choice but to follow, despite my position in the Order.’

My eyes fell sadly. ‘I know, but you’d still be watching the entire process. And taking the blood immediately away once we've drawn it. It’s just a little thing to make my mages feel safe.’

Cullen groaned as I looked up at him with pleading eyes.

‘Please Cullen. _I’m begging you_.’

The templar rubbed his aching shoulder with a smirk as I pressed my hands together, silently begging him.

‘Fine.’ he conceded with a groan. ‘You and Jowan can take their phylacteries in front of my men. _But we are to be there_. I don’t want Jowan trying to hand me fake bottles of blood. My men will be there witnessing the entire ritual. I suppose it’s still loosely following the protocol. Six Templars to witness, no exceptions.’

Breathing out in relief, I nodded at the Commander with a smile. ‘Yes of course. Thank you.’

Pushing back my plate, Cullen tapped the metal. ‘Now eat before it gets cold.’

Grinning at the templar, I proceeded to eat. _My plan had worked. _After the mission the fate of my mages would not lie at the mercy of these Templars. It was a small step but I was one step closer to ensuring our escape would not be hindered by this cruel Order.

_One day we would be free._


	154. Ma Vhenan a Ma Vhenas (My Heart Is My Home)

It was late as I departed Cullen’s chambers, dashing through the courtyard as I hastily ran off into the night. None were any the wiser that the Knight-Commander had entertained the Senior Enchanter in his chambers.

_None were any the wiser as to how I felt at that very moment. _

In victory, I should have been celebrating my chance to spare the mages the same fate that awaited Jowan and I when this was all over. Yet it didn’t feel like a victory as my freshly whipped skin throbbed in pain. It didn’t feel good that I had enjoyed Cullen’s baseless treatment in the heat of the moment, only to experience that all too familiar creeping shame in the aftermath. It wasn’t a role I had wanted to play with him ever again. My inner psyche had always struggled with the darker side of Cullen. Whose seduction was overwhelming, yet frightening. His deep affection was rippled with chaos and those inner demons that had developed through each adversity he had endured grew more powerful as the years progressed.

Thedas recognised Cullen Rutherford as a powerful man, both as a former Commander of the Inquisition and now as Knight-Commander of the Templar Order. He was a highly skilled warrior, leader and templar. That is who he was to the outside world. Yet behind closed doors this man was different. He was vulnerable. His unquenchable thirst to control something that perhaps he knew deep down could never be controlled pushed him into this spiral of bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism. His fear of losing control over his duties as a templar drew him to a mage that he could dominate. Yet the terrible truth was he had in fact exposed his vulnerability to the one thing he feared the most. A maleficar. 

My guilt dissuaded me to settle in my chambers that night, instead leading me to the smoky den of _The Cock and Bull _that resided in the belly of the keep. It was filled with many patrons that night, both mage and ordinary citizens that had travelled to visit the keep. A wave of chattering, laughing, the clank of worn tankards and heavy roll of dice met me at the entrance as I descended the stairs into the tavern. Wafting scents of sticky ale, roasted meats and musky pipes filled the air, homely and inviting to all that ventured near.

Making my way to the bar I spotted Varric eagerly watching a game of Farkle being played between two mages. The roll of the dice in the wooden cup rattled before falling onto the table, scattering before the eager eyes of the tavern.

‘Six ones!’ roared the group of onlookers, cheering in disbelief as the winning mage stood in triumph with a pitcher of ale above his head.

‘No fucking way!’ laughed Varric, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘That’s gotta be the luckiest roll in the history of Thedas.’. The dwarf turned in surprise, noticing me waiting at the bar. ‘Sparrow!’ he greeted animatedly. ‘You here to gamble a little coin in our Farkle competition? Kid, yer gonna lose big time against that one over there. He’s been on a roll the entire afternoon.’

Shaking my head, I placed my pouch of groschen on the counter. ‘No, just hand me a bottle of your strongest brew. I don’t care what it is Varric, just pass it this way.’

With a nod, the rogue contemplated what to choose from his wide selection on the shelf. His chunky fingers brushed along several glasses as he sang; ‘_This lively maid has come to dance, a copper coin for her cheer, and merry lads dare take their chance, after many a flagon of turnip beer._’

Varric chuckled jovially as he finally selected a bottle of mead and a goblet.

‘This lively maid has come to drink until the heaven’s spin.’ I retorted, taking a swig straight from the bottle.

The rogue grinned as he leant against the wooden counter. ‘I dunno Sparrow, drinking _Magi Monk’s Mead Holy Water _by the bottle is gonna spin you into the heavens right at the Maker’s feet. Might never return back to Thedas? You have a bad day?’

Taking another large sip, I shook my head violently at the question. There was no way I was going to confide in the loosest lips at Skyhold.

‘There are some things best forgotten in deep cups.’ I informed. ‘We drink to blot out the harrows of life, to celebrate the wins, _and sometimes just to forget_. Tonight I drink to the latter.’. Swiftly I downed more of the strong liquor, wincing as it burned my throat. ‘This is our top product? It feels like I’m drinking liquid fire.’

‘All the better to drown your sorrows.’ Varric mused, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself a generous cup. ‘You and all of Thedas come to drink for the same reasons. That’s why _this drop_ is our most popular amongst mercenaries. It’s hard to focus on your troubles when your mouth is burning.’. The dwarf downed the drink effortlessly and poured another. ‘From Seheron to the Anderfels, I’ve sampled a lot of mead in my life and let me tell you this here is _top shelf_.’. The rogue sculled his second drink, pouring us both another. ‘Yeah I’m no gypsy Sparrow, but I’d bet I could guess the four cornerstones of your misery. Chantry grunts, Curly, Goldilocks and His Royal Idiot. Which one are we toasting to tonight?’

‘Curly.’ I muttered.

Varric threw me a sympathetic look. ‘Sorry kid, I heard about the phylacteries.’

Fearfully I looked up, for a moment thinking he was referring to the hours before spent with Cullen.

‘They took you and Riddle’s blood.’ continued Varric, shaking his head his disbelief. ‘What ass-holes. Couldn’t believe it when I heard. Your mages are sticking their necks out for these nug-heads and they force the two leaders to hand over their blood. Heck, I’d be pissed too Sparrow.’

‘Jowan and I can take care of ourselves when the time comes.’ I dismissed. ‘Don’t worry about us.’

‘Yeah well I reckon you guys underestimate the Chantry.’ doubted Varric. ‘They’ll make it their life mission to get you two locked up. Or worse? You reckon they’ll keep Riddles in a tower to live out the rest of his days? The same man who broke out of one using blood magic? No fucking way! He’ll be tranquilised or sentenced to death.’

Bitterly, I took another deep sip. ‘If I know the Chantry they’ll take us straight to the Aeonar, torture us for a few months _and then kill us.’_. My eyes lifted solemnly to Varric. ‘I’d kill each and every one of them if they tried.’

The dwarf took a sip of his mead, toasting the threat. ‘After Kirkwall I swore black and blue I’d never befriend another mage, let alone be companions with them in some damn plot against the Templars. But I’d fight for you guys tooth and nail. Bianca and I have got your back. Guess your handsome Uncle Varric never learns?’

‘Varric, it’s not a matter of if _but when_.’ I warned ‘They’ll be coming for us. They always intended to.’

‘Out of the pan and into the fucking fire.’ muttered the dwarf.

Shaking my head, I knew there were greater concerns than that. ‘It’s our mages here that you should fear for - including all the children. The Templars want phylacteries of the mages going with us on this mission. Who’s to say in a few months they won’t be demanding every mage in this keep to hand one over? Cassandra has already announced her intentions to reinstate the towers. And then before you know it the towers will be ready and these fucking Templars will be rounding us up like sheep once more.’

Varric poured another drink, nodding at me. ‘Always gotta have a plan Sparrow. _Several_. Just in case the first three don’t work out. Don’t give ‘em a chance to imprison you lot again.’. He drank angrily, slamming the cup on the bench. ‘Turns out the Seeker has done a number on us all?’

‘So has Cullen.’ I added somewhat bitterly. ‘You think he gives a damn about whether I keep my freedom or not? He doesn’t.’

‘Well you two haven’t exactly been on good terms for years now.’ shrugged Varric. ‘I suppose Curly ain't too concerned about your best interests these days.’

Nodding stiffly, I continued to drink. ‘I suppose not.’

Misery loves company and as it turned out Varric and I enjoyed drowning our sorrows over a bottle of mead or three. The rogue appeared more than willing to pass off his duties for the day and retire for a drink, handing the towel to a tired barmaid who looked like she had seen more winters than the entire tavern put together. As the hours passed by we drank to forget and ended up playing a few rounds of Farkle, my pouch growing lighter on each throw.

‘No more!’ I protested, scattering the dice away with a drunken hand. ‘You’re a tricksy rogue and I’m a…I’m a…’

Varric knocked down another cup of mead and slammed the empty goblet on the table. ‘Sparrow…you’re more cup-shotten than a boozed up pirate in dead wind.’

Our cackles of laughter were interrupted by a hand reaching over and delicately plucking one of the die from our table. A chevalier in white plate armour stood before us, standing out from the crowd in the dingy tavern like a blinding beacon. Michel de Chevin’s blue eyes looked at the die curiously, turning it from side to side.

‘Goldilocks!’ roared Varric, turning to the other drunken patrons slumped over chairs. ‘Hey everyone, it’s the Maister of Blades come to drink at The Cock and Bull! Three cheers for the champion of the Grand Tourney!’

Several tired drunken cheers sounded across the room before the patrons returned eagerly to their cups, more interested in getting blind drunk than getting sentimental.

‘This die is rigged.’ observed Michel in surprise, weighing it up in his hand. ‘Yes, it’s definitely been tampered with.’

Varric guiltily snatched the die from the chevalier with the stealth that only a rogue possesses. ‘I’ll be taking that.’

‘Michel!’ I greeted tipsily, raising my cup unsteadily. ‘Come sit and have a drink!’

‘Your cups overfloweth.’ observed the chevalier with a sly blonde brow. ‘Perhaps a little too much?’ 

‘Sparrow and I were just celebratin’…_what’ll_…_what were we drinking to again_?’ slurred Varric, an intoxicated red flush in his cheeks and nose apparent. ‘Bah, who cares? Come and drink with us Goldilocks!’

The chevalier politely waved his hand to decline the offer. ‘My apologies, I have duties in the morning. Jowan suggested I come find you in regards to lodgings. I find myself without a bed tonight.’

‘You have a bed near the gardens.’ I informed with a drunken tap of my nose. ‘Didn’t we show you your rooms when you arrived? Oh no we forgot, did we? Where have you guys been sleeping for the last week?! Ugh…we’re the worst hosts ever.’. Grabbing the bottle, I missed the cup and began pouring on the table. ‘Damn table keeps moving Varric.’

Gently Michel pried the bottle from my hand and poured a tentative amount into the goblet. ‘Do not concern yourself, I was shown to my quarters when I arrived.’ he informed kindly, as if speaking to a child. ‘It’s just circumstances have changed and I need new ones now. Just for me.’

Varric groaned, shaking his wobbling finger at the half-elf. ‘I wanna….I wanna know but something tells me you’re gonna tell me it’s none of my damn business. Goldi…you gotta tell me.’

‘It’s a little personal.’ declined the chevalier politely. ‘My apologies, this is a delicate matter. Jowan mentioned you may have lodgings here I can use?’

‘Yeah okay, you can stay in the back room here.’ agreed Varric, swinging his thumb behind him. ‘It’s basic, but there’s a chest and a bed in there. Pretty good hay stuffed in the mattress. But you’re not getting any peace and quiet, my tavern stays open until late most nights.’

‘It’s better than sleeping in the stables.’ acknowledged Michel, taking a seat at our table. ‘Thank you, Varric. I very much appreciate this.’

The dwarf patted the chevalier’s gauntleted arm. ‘No worries kid. You’re a good one. Isn’t that right Sparrow? He’s a good one.’

Raising my cup to the dwarves’ I laughed as we both missed the toast by several inches. ‘A toast to Michel. To him being _a good one_.’

Michel turned to me with a grin, his blue eyes sparkling in amusement. ‘How’s the Magi Mead? You seem festive?’

‘Have some.’ I offered enthusiastically, pushing the bottle towards him. ‘We made this. Well Varric made this one. And it’s top shelf.’

‘Cheers to that Sparrow.’ sloshed Varric, drinking another swig.

The chevalier shook his head. ‘_Non_ _je suis désolé_. I would be swinging a sword sideways tomorrow morning if I started drinking that now.’

‘Heck, isn’t that how you swing a sword?’ chimed in Varric.

Rolling my eyes at the dwarf, I turned back to Michel. ‘I like you Orlesians. I never know what you’re saying but it always sounds so…_fancy_.’

The chevalier threw me a warm smile. ‘**Mon fleur bleue**,  
mais tu bois comme un trou.’ he replied graciously.

Shrugging at the man, I turned to Varric. ‘You understand that? It sounded so….’

Varric clicked his fingers. ‘_Ritzy_.’

‘Cultured.’ I agreed. ‘Like something a knight says in the courts of Orlais.’

Mischievously the chevalier chuckled. ‘I called you a blue flower. It’s what we call a sentimental person. I also said you drink like a hole.’

The half-elf laughed as I swiped at his arm, trying to hit it playfully. Boisterously Varric cheered, drinking deep from the bottle.

‘He got ya good Sparrow.’ laughed Varric. ‘At the end of day you’re just a sentimental lush.’

The chevalier bashfully concealed his wide smile as I pretended to scowl at him.

‘You misunderstand me, it is just what we say in Orlais when someone drinks more than they should.’ explained Michel. ‘You drink endlessly on this night. That is all.’

Raising my glass, I downed another cup. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

‘You’ll drink to anything at this stage.’ chuckled Varric, returning to our game. He rolled the dice from his cup and cursed as he busted on the first go. ‘Pass me the bottle.’ he grumbled, thrusting out his meaty hand. ‘Goldilocks, you want some?’

‘Michel has the joy of training the Templars tomorrow morning.’ I teased, rolling the dice. ‘Apparently you can’t do that drunk, although I’d say it’s the only way you’d get me working with those fools.’

‘Cullen got ya training his men again?’ mused Varric. ‘Shit, you must be lovin' that?’

Michel’s face grew darker at the mention of Cullen. Grabbing the bottle off Varric, the half-elf suddenly took a large sip of the mead. To our disbelief he then proceeded to take several more, finally placing the bottle down with a _thud._

The rogue edged closer in his chair. ‘Shit Goldilocks, what did Curly do? He’s made both you and Sparrow turn to the bottle in less than a few weeks.’

Michel subconsciously cast his eyes to me before answering. ‘Cullen spoke with Rose today and uh…told her about what happened during the Inquisition.’

‘Bet that was a bore.’ chuckled Varric. ‘What’s Curly chewing Rosey’s ear off about Corypheus? I reckon all of Thedas is sick of hearing about that mad crone.’

Sneering at the comment, I grabbed the bottle. ‘As if anyone cares about tactical warfare and calibrating trebuchets. I feel sorry for Rose having to listen to that.’

The chevalier ran his finger along the splits in the wooden table, seemingly unwilling to continue the conversation.

‘Why the long face?’ pressed Varric. ‘You annoyed Curly got talking to your missus about trebuchets?’

‘No, Cullen didn’t speak of trebuchets. He told Rose, _in great detail_, about my past relationship with Ophelia.’ replied Michel quietly, waving his hand to refuse the bottle being offered by Varric. ‘He spent hours telling her everything. From when I arrived at Skyhold until I departed Denerim for Orlais years later.’

My concerned eye caught the Chevalier’s. ‘Cullen told Rose all about you and I?’ I asked in surprise. ‘Why?’

The chevalier shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. He did it for his own reasons. Reasons I know run deeper than just entertaining a lady with stories. Rose was none the wiser to these Inquisition stories. She was shocked to find out. _And angry._ And that is why from tonight on I sleep in _The Cock and Bull_.’

‘Yes but did you ask Cullen why he did that?’ I pressed.

Michel shook his head, refusing to look at me. ‘No, I needed to settle down before I approach that topic with him. Tomorrow morning I will speak to him. Rose told me Cullen offered her a position to sew repairs for the Templars. I don’t know what to make of the whole situation? On one hand I know this man better than most and don’t trust him. On the other, I know this role is important for Rose. I risk upsetting her more by demanding she leave Skyhold. I want my wife here by my side. Not by Cullen’s. It feels like he’s already driven a wedge between us.’

‘Why’s Rosey sewing for the grunt crew?’ frowned Varric.

‘She wants to help.’ explained Michel stiffly. ‘Her cousin was a templar and she seeks to follow his path in aiding their cause. At least while we’re up here.’

‘Surely you told Rose about us during the Inquisition?’ I added in slight confusion, turning to Varric who also appeared baffled. ‘She would already know most of what happened. And really, what was so bad that Cullen would reveal?’

The half-elf rubbed his jaw tiredly. ‘At the time Rose and I began our courtship I believed it best for me and for her that my time at Skyhold was not explained in great detail.’ informed the chevalier flatly. ‘If it were up to me I would have kept it that way. What’s the benefit of Rose knowing every detail about our relationship? Or Imshael? Or my time in the Western Approach? Or our time in Denerim Palace? None of it mattered.’

‘Guess it matters to her.’ muttered Varric ‘Damn Curly delivered you a punch right in the gut with that one, eh? _Curly, curly big and burly likes to cause trouble from late to early…no wait…likes to wander the keep all surly._’

Slumping onto the table, I began to lull asleep as Varric drunkenly sang tunes about Cullen on the ground. Michel rolled his eyes at the pair of us.

‘It’s time you both called it a night.’ he advised.

‘No I’ll sleep here.’ I murmured. ‘It’s comfy here…Varric your table is soft as a cloud.’

_Snnnnnnnarrrrrg…….snarrrrgggggggg……..sssnnnnnnnnaarrrrrhhhhggggg_

The loud snoring of Varric arose from under the table where the dwarf had finally passed out.

With a gentle hand, the chevalier eased me up from the wooden seat and wrapped an arm around my waist. The half-elf pressed his body against mine, securing my weight as he held me close.

‘Come _da’len assan. _I’ll see you make it back to your chambers.’

As I stumbled out of my seat, the main hall greeted us before I realised we’d left the tavern. ‘What does _dal…dalin…assat_ mean?’ I slurred, tripping over my steps.

‘_Little arrow_.’ replied Michel softly, gingerly leading me forward. ‘Come, you need to sleep this one off.’

His firm arms kept me from falling over my feet as I climbed the stairs to my chambers, and in a drunken leap I dove onto the bed in a heap. Michel poured me some water and encouraged me to drink, gently dissuading my attempts to open a new bottle of wine.

‘Here.’ he encouraged placing the cup of water into my hands. ‘You’ll feel better tomorrow if you drink a few cups now.’

Sculling the glass as if it were fine wine, I threw the empty cup on the bed. ‘Many thanks, but you know I feel great!’ I laughed ‘I feel fantastic. Better than ever!’

The chevalier swept a hand through his long blonde hair, pulling out the tie that held it back. His tresses fell loose, beautiful and free. ‘_The wine is sweet, the wine is true, but tomorrow you’ll be struck down with the Orlesian Flu_.’ he sang playfully.

Laughing in drunken amusement at Michel’s ditty, I clapped in applause. ‘I never knew you were a poet?’

‘Well, just in case the chevalier job doesn’t work out.’ joked Michel.

He poured another cup of water and sipped away at it before noticing I was staring at him. Michel threw me a bashful smile as I grinned at him.

‘Why do you have such a brilliant beam on your face?’ he asked pleasantly. ‘I’ve seen more frowns from you and at best a half-smile since I arrived.’

‘I’m just happy to see you.’ I laughed. Pointing a finger at the chevalier, I refused to stop smiling. ‘You make me happy.’

Michel rubbed his jaw, a smile erupting on his face as if he were secretly pleased. ‘More like the _magi mead _is making you happy, I think?’

‘No!’ I protested merrily. ‘I’m happy to see you Michel. After all these years you’re here again. You’re here! I didn’t realise how much you weren’t here until you…._until you were here_! Now whenever I see you I can’t stop smiling. _It’s like_ _you’ve come home.’_

The half-elf caught my eye in a flash of blue before turning away. ‘_Ma vhenan a ma vhenas._’ he murmured.

‘What does that mean?’ I groaned playfully. ‘It’s not fair speaking in another language I can’t understand.’

Michel shook his head, as if the words were only intended only for him. ‘Nothing. Just something that resonates with me.’

Finally I conceded to my drunken desire to rest. With a yawn I laid back on the bed and started to drift off to sleep. Rolling to my side, I spotted Michel sitting nearby at the table.

‘Tell me about your wedding, Michel.’ I murmured dreamily. ‘What was it like?’

The chevalier appeared surprised by the comment. ‘You wish to know of my wedding day?’

‘Yes.’ I implored, rolling my hand at him to come closer. I slapped the bed in encouragement. ‘Come here and tell me. Was it sunny? Did you marry outside? What dress did Rose wear? Did you wear a sky blue waistcoat, trousers and pointy shoes?’

‘A sky blue waistcoat, trousers and pointy shoes?’ laughed Michel. Drawing closer he sat at the end of my bed, keeping a respectable distance from where I lay. ‘Heavens that sounds ghastly.’. The knight nodded as I waited for a story. ‘Well, yes it was a beautiful wedding.’ he recalled ‘I remember waking on the day to a crystal blue sky. The air was crisp, being an autumn morning, and I rode out to the Lydes Grand Cathedral on a chestnut mare. I wore a white linen shirt under my chevalier navy coat adorned with my medals earned over the years. Such a heavy jacket. It’s a strange tradition but chevaliers of the Academie must marry in their traditional outfits. ‘. Michel smiled to himself. ‘I remember arriving early because I feared something would happen on the road and I would miss seeing Rose walk down the aisle. So I arrived two hours early and paced the church grounds. I don’t think there was a headstone I didn’t read. When the bell tolled at the hour of our nuptials, _Marquis Lothair Doucy_walked Rose down the aisle. She was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen; standing there in a champagne white gown with diamonds sewn across the midsection of her waist.’. Michel rubbed his jaw fondly as he recalled the moment. ‘She gave me a gift. One single pink rose petal placed in my palm. She told me that was all we needed to start our lives together. Just her and I standing before each other with love in our hearts. Over four hundred guests watched on as I stood there but I never recalled them at that moment. All I remember was thinking this was woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.’

‘Yes, weddings go so fast.’ I replied softly. ‘Even when you don’t wish to be married to the person.’. My eyes drifted shut to the sound of his soft words. ‘I remember you telling me about our wedding.’ I murmured, drifting in and out of an intoxicated slumber. ‘You…you said there was this village near Lapin where you used to walk to in the summer months.’

Michel nodded quietly, running his hand along the smooth fabric of the blanket he sat upon. ‘Felderre.’ he informed softly.

‘That’s the one.’ I smiled. ‘You told me there was a white church there with a large wisteria tree. We were to marry there, under the purple flowers. Me in a simple cream dress because you knew I couldn’t stand all the lavish ones you would have taken me to see Halamshiral. We pledged ourselves on a carpet of purple flowers. Nothing compared to the majesty of an Orlesian Spring in Felderre. ’

His blue eyes looked over to me in surprise. ‘You remembered in such detail?’ he exclaimed in surprise. ‘It was nothing but a dream.’

‘It was a beautiful dream.’ I confessed sleepily. ‘In a world full of nightmares, I try to find that place sometimes. If only in my dreams. I go there and sit under that tree. It’s safe there…nothing can harm me under that tree.’

The chevalier remained quiet. The wind howled outside my chambers but inside it was perfectly quiet.

‘I go there some times as well.’ Michel confessed softly. ‘Not in my dreams, but when I chance upon Felderre once or so a year I go to that tree by the church. I took a wisteria flower from the ground once and pressed it in a book in my library. Even now I cannot say why? But secretly I keep it there safe.’

‘Things we hold dear need to be kept safe.’ I murmured. ‘I’m sorry you were forced back to Skyhold. I’m sorry Cullen is playing games with you also. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve to sleep in Varric’s tavern.’

The half-elf chuckled, shaking his blonde head in amusement. ‘Ophelia I’ve slept in worse places in my life. No you mustn’t feel bad. In the end I was happy to be reunited with my friends here. With you, and Varric, and Jowan. There is something about _Tarasyl’an Te’las _that sings to me. It’s hard to admit that a part of me feels like I have come home when I returned here. To _Tarasyl’an Te’las._ ’

‘_Tarasyl’an Te’las_.’ I murmured. ‘The place where the sky was held back.’. Opening my blurry eyes, I waved a hand at Michel. ‘Go back to her now. Tell Rose that Cullen is a dangerous man. Your love for your wife is beautiful. Gentle and kind. You’d never hurt her…._even if you enjoyed it_. You’d never strike her until lines etched her broken skin. You’d never demand her pain for your pleasure.’

Michel gasped in surprise. ‘_Excuse-moi?’_ he replied in his Orlesian tongue, clearly taken aback. ‘_Qu'est-ce que tu viens de me dire?’_

‘There’s that fancy talk again.’ I murmured, drifting back to sleep.

‘What did you just say?’ interpreted Michel swiftly.

My face crushed into the pillow. ‘Nothing, forget it. I’m tired.’

Gently I felt the chevalier rock my arm, trying to stir me from my intoxicated nap. ‘Ophelia? Why would you say that? Did Cullen.._did Cullen hurt you?_ Tell me what he does to you?’

‘Let me sleep.’ I murmured. ‘I drank deep to forget this day. Don’t make me speak of it now.’

The chevalier gently began to roll me over once more. ‘Sleep on your side tonight, _da’len assan_.’ he encouraged. ‘You risk suffocating when you sleep on your back in this state.’

Pushing him away tiredly, I rolled back onto my stomach. ‘No I’m fine, I won’t be sick.’

‘Too much mead will do that and you’ve had more that even I could stomach.’ protested Michel ‘I can’t leave you if you’re not going to stay on your side.’

His hands accidentally pushed into my leg as he rolled me onto my side and I cried out in pain.

‘Oh stop! No no no…no more.’ I begged, now lost in a dream. ‘Stop, it hurts. No more. I can’t serve you like this. It’s too much. I know that. Please do not use that whip on me.’’

‘Whip?’ repeated Michel urgently, fear growing in his voice. ‘Did Cullen hurt you? _Did he whip you?_’

‘Yes….but don’t worry.’ I replied drunkenly. ‘I tricked him into letting me take my mages phylacteries. Tomorrow they’ll walk away with pig’s blood. Tonight the Commander had his pleasure _but tomorrow I shall have mine_.’

Michel looked down fearfully to my leg. ‘Where did he whip you, _da’len assan_? Let me see.’

My eyes drifted open for a split second, to see his concerned face looking at me, before closing them again. ‘It’s time for your wedding Michel.’ I mumbled, falling back into a dream. ‘Don’t be late. Rose is waiting and there are headstones to read.’

‘I’m already at the Church.’ replied Michel gently. ‘I have time to talk now. Please tell me what Cullen did to you tonight?’

‘He gets turned on when he hurts me.’ I whispered, drifting away once more. ‘He whipped me tonight with a horse crop. Over and over again. He just wanted to exercise his control. I drank and drank with Varric and still it hurts. But the joke’s on him….I only did it to save my mages….I’ll never obey him.’. Laughing into my pillow, my voice sounded a million miles away now.

‘So he whipped your legs?’ ask Michel, placing a tentative hand on my thigh.

I winced at the feeling of his strong hand and he withdrew his hand swiftly.

‘Please don’t, it hurts.’ I begged into my pillow. ‘My legs and buttocks are shredded and bruised. He has a knack for taking things too far. The day we spoke before the Eluvian….he forced me to give my phylactery. That bandage on my arm was from him….running that knife too deep.’

‘Do you need healing now?’ pressed the chevalier. ‘Shall I go get Jowan?’

‘No, please no.’ I protested sleepily. ‘Jowan will ask questions and I’ll have to tell him what I did. Jowan hates Cullen.’

‘So do I.’ affirmed Michel sternly.

‘Wounds will heal.’ I murmured, my eyes finally closing to sleep.

‘Some wounds never heal.’ argued Michel. ‘This cannot go on, _da’len assan. _You cannot take this path any longer.’

He shook his head as I finally passed out. Pushing a pillow at my back, the chevalier secured me on my side.

‘I’ll stay here and make sure you are not sick.’ Michel reassured softly. ‘Dream now Ophelia, dream of a place more peaceful than here. Rest on a bed of purple wisteria, soft and sweet, until the morning brings you safely back to me.’


	155. Any Excuse Will Serve a Tyrant

Stirring from his slumber, Cullen drew his muscular arms behind his sandy head as he lay in his chambers. It felt peculiar to be waking in Skyhold and not in his home back in Crestwood. For years he’d wake up in his bed in Crestwood and lie there thinking about Skyhold. And now circumstances were the opposite and here he was back in the thick of it.

Everything was different these days. To command one thousand Templars instead of commanding an Inquisition army. To serve the Order he respected wholeheartedly instead of serving an agenda run by the Inquisition. Things were better these days in many ways, despite being different. Yet some things had stayed the same and that is what Cullen secretly enjoyed at present. The hardened life of a templar was all he knew but even a soldier needed a little gentle company from time to time. Ophelia had provided him with a diversion that he sorely needed and the templar had purged himself last night and awoken feeling whole once more.

Tying his red templar sash around his waist and securing his cuirass, the Commander readied himself early; an hour before the sun was to rise. It was dark when he left his chambers, and as he made his way into the main hall he could hear the echoed song of stirring birds waking to the first concealed rays of light behind the mountain peaks. The templar recalled the soft birdsong of dawn from years before, illuminating such a cold and barren place.

Marching across the dark main hall, Cullen stopped briefly before the large stained-glass windows at the head of the hall. The throne chair surprisingly still remained there; a symbol of the Inquisition’s power. Why the mages had decided to keep it was beyond him but perhaps there was strategic value in leaving it there? He recalled the day it had been commissioned. Leliana had pushed the idea to the council that the chair should be oversized to serve as a psychological reminder to all that stood before it that the Inquisition was strong and dominating. The Spymaster was always thinking up ways to intimidate and manipulate. Cullen shook his head with a smile. There were few like her in Thedas. To his surprise being up here in Skyhold made him miss Leliana. For years now they’d been separated yet some part of him still yearned for her at times. Whenever he felt lost at sea she was the compass that directed him home once more. 

Moving away from the dark window, the Commander turned a sharp left to the door that led to Ophelia’s chambers. He intended to see her this early morning before the day began. In several hours they would start drawing the mages phylacteries and Cullen wanted to reassure Ophelia that despite his indifference to her in the room _he was committed to her. _He realised the last time he had drawn her blood things had taken a turn for the worse. Her offer to draw the phylacteries of the mages today would serve to ensure the process went smoothly and Cullen was content to allow this to happen. But he needed to make sure Ophelia had no doubt as to where his affections truly resided.

Rubbing a thumb across his lip, his mind wandered to the previous night. The sting of his crop still vibrated in his hand, each strike throbbing deep in his pleasure. She’d given herself completely to him and the templar relished every moment.

The Commander’s amber eyes darted both directions of the main hall, ensuring no one was watching, before he stealthily entered the door leading to Ophelia’s chambers.

The Knight-Commander’s leather boots treaded softly up the stairs, climbing into the main chamber. He could hear the soft breathing of sleep and Cullen smiled to himself, knowing he’d have the pleasure of rousing Ophelia from her dreams in a moment. Her drowsy green eyes would blink up at him and no doubt send shivers across his skin as he recalled her blinking up at him on her knees the former night. _Maker how he loved her like that. _

Running his hand along the rough wooden banister, he ascended into the living quarters at the top of the stairs.

‘_What in the….’ _whispered Cullen.

The templar froze dead in his tracks. His amber eyes were fixated on the bed where Ophelia peacefully slept, curled in a ball with her back turned to him. Beside her lay Michel de Chevin, fast asleep in his loose white linen shirt and a soft brown fur blanket covering his legs. The chevalier’s blonde hair scattered across the white pillow on which his head comfortably rested; his arm hugging against another pillow at Ophelia’s back. Snuggled into the covers, the pair slumbered on the fleecy blankets of the four poster bed, blissfully unaware that Cullen was standing there.

Heart pounding in his chest Cullen turned away with all the willpower he could muster, believing his eyes must have been deceiving him. His attention drew to Ophelia’s dining table; where a chevalier’s white cuirass, powder blue gambeson, plate chausses, pauldrons, gauntlets, silver hauberk and riding boots were all neatly stacked. The typical trappings of a knight stored tidily away at the end of a day. This armour had been put here with deliberation, taken off neatly before one purposely retired for the night.

Cullen’s furious eyes darted back to the sleeping pair. Clenching his fists furiously he stepped forward before stopping himself. Shaking his head in disgust he turned and left the room, descending the steps as fast as his boots could carry him.

Out into the main hall, Cullen paused to take a breath, unable to process what he had just walked into. Ophelia and Michel sleeping together. _Ophelia and Michel together._

‘So _this_ is who warms your bed at night?_’ _Cullen seethed, marching furiously out of the main hall. ‘This entire fucking time. _You and that fucking chevalier were playing me this entire fucking time_.’

****

_Tap, tap tap…..tap, tap, tap, tap, tap….tap, tap, tap….._

Lady Rose de Chevin was awoken early that morning by a firm knocking on her chamber door in Skyhold. Her tired eyes blinked open to the sound of someone unwilling to cease their rapping on the wood despite her attempts to ignore it. Finally she begrudgingly threw on a dressing gown to investigate.

‘Michel, it’s so early.’ she yawned, opening the door. ‘What is it? I do not wish to-’

Her green eyes met with a Templar’s as he smiled warmly back. Hastily Rose wrapped her gown tighter around her slender frame, covering her modesty as she discovered it was not her husband at the door but Knight-Commander Cullen of the Templar Order.

‘My apologies for the early hour.’ remarked Cullen, throwing an apologetic smile as he diverted his eyes from her politely. ‘I see I’ve woken you?’

Rose pulled a blonde strand behind her ear in embarrassment as she tied her gown with a tight knot. ‘Let that be a lesson to those that refuse to rise with the sun as the Chantry instructs all honest and hardworking souls should do.’ she mused. ‘How can I help you, Knight-Commander? Or are looking for Michel? He’s…not here. I’m not certain where he is this morning?’

‘Out and about already, is he?’ observed Cullen, raising his brow. ‘The man certainly is dedicated to his endeavours. Truth be told I’m not here to speak to him. I’ve business in Crestwood today and came to see if you’d accompany me there?’. The templar placed an apologetic hand on his steel breastplate. ‘I realise it’s terribly short notice, however my duties in Caer Bronach cannot wait. It would help me greatly if you personally could come advise my Templars in Crestwood which materials you require to work effectively up here. Our needles and thread, uniform linen, tent canvas…well, it’s all stored away in Caer Bronach. But even then I fear what we have there may not be enough? Whatever you need might best be obtained at the tailor shop in town. Would you care to take a trip there with me today to get supplies?’

The lady was surprised but also appeared pleased at the request by the Knight-Commander himself. ‘Of course, I shall be happy to assist.’ agreed Rose pleasantly. ‘Is there a carriage coming to take us there?’

‘Unfortunately no.’ apologised Cullen. ‘We generally ride our steeds down the mountain. I’m taking a garrison of my Templars with us this morning so it’s usual to lead the men down on horse. A Commander must always lead the troops, even on missions such as these. It has always been the way. ’

‘I’m terrible with a mount.’ admitted Rose disheartenedly. ‘In Orlais I only take carriages. I don’t think I could manage a horse down a lane let alone down such a mountain.’

The templar shrugged as if it were no problem. ‘Not to worry, I can saddle for two people on my warhorse, he’s a strong steed that can carry us both with no problems. That is, if you’d permit me to escort you there?’. He chuckled, shaking his sandy head as if he was well aware the offer was not appealing. ‘I grant you the ride is a little bumpy but you’re in good hands. I ride very well.’

‘Of course you do, I never had doubts about that.’ she observed kindly. Rose hesitated with a smile. ‘Well…yes I suppose I could go? How long would we be in Crestwood for?’

‘No more than the day.’ reassured Cullen. ‘It’s just past sunrise now and my Templars are getting ready to set off. It takes several hours of hard riding to get there, but I’m certain we’d return before dinner if we head off now. You may even enjoy the diversion of a few fine Ferelden fields full of marigolds and poppy along the way. They’re a sight to be seen this time of year.’

Rose frowned, as if still not entirely convinced. ‘Well…’

Cullen placed a calm hand on the hilt of his sword, resting against the metal. His lip turned into a slight smirk, as if something amused him. ‘Naturally if you think your husband would have an issue with this then I completely understand.’ he added. ‘I meant no disrespect in asking you to accompany me and my Templars. We need your help Rose, but I’d never impose if your husband _forbade_ you from aiding the Templars.’

Upon hearing this, the Orlesian shook her head adamantly. ‘No, it’s perfectly fine. _I want to help_. And of course I should go advise what is needed up here. How else shall your fine men know what to bring back? Yes, give me a moment to ready myself and we can go.’

‘Very good!’ replied Cullen pleasantly. ‘Take as long as you need. I shall meet you at the gates of the keep with the rest of the Templars when you are ready to set out.’

***

Michel’s blonde eyelashes fluttered open that morning as the bright morning sunlight through the balcony fell on his face. Before him he saw the soft brown tresses of Ophelia’s hair. She was fast asleep and Michel didn’t have the heart to rouse her into the painful day of headaches and nausea that awaited her. The unfortunate aftermath of heavy drinking; and what they back home called _The Orlesian flu._

The half-elf had stirred from his sleep several times during the night to check that Ophehlia had not been sick, and was indeed still sleeping on her side. In the early hours of the morning the chevalier finally succumbed to a deep sleep and discovered he’d now overslept from tiredness.

Michel lay there for a moment, recalling the hectic former day. Between Cullen’s interference, the arguments between he and his wife, the drunken songs and laughter in Varric’s tavern, and the smiles and fond stories late that night; there was one thing that the chevalier had not the stomach to recall. _Cullen’s mistreatment of Ophelia. _

Noticing the chill in the air, the half-elf delicately drew the brown blanket over Ophelia’s shoulders before retreating quietly off the bed.

He knew that he must tread carefully when the time came to address this subject with her. The chevalier wasn’t in a relationship with Ophelia and indeed had no real reason to interfere with another adult’s personal life. But as a friend and a gentleman he couldn’t stand by and allow another man to hurt her. Somehow Michel had to protect Ophelia from Cullen.

However at that moment Michel had an even greater task at hand. Dealing with Cullen’s interference, whilst simultaneously dissuading him from speaking to Rose ever again. Michel knew protecting his wife was the most important thing to do right now, and it all began with confronting Cullen. Of course he also knew talking through issues with this man rarely came to an understanding, _and never ended with an apology_. Michel was prepared for a fight and a fight he would give. At the end of the day he had to ensure his dear Rose was kept away from the devilry of Knight-Commander Cullen.

Quietly Michel dressed himself, leaving the chambers inconspicuously so as not to draw any unwanted gossip. After nabbing an apple for breakfast in the hall he made his way into the sunny courtyard of the keep where training was to begin at mid-morning, only to discover a severe lack of Templars.

With a mace and shield, Knight-Captain Sheldon was instructing that morning in the courtyard. He stood in the middle of the training circle explaining to a very small group of Templars how to effectively smash an opponent’s armour. As Michel de Chevin approached, the templar lowered his mace respectfully and threw the chevalier a jovial wave.

‘Good Morning Ser Michel!’ greeted Sheldon. ‘I fear you’ve lost most of your group this morning!’

‘It appears so?’ replied Michel quizzically. The chevalier raised his brows, looking across the empty courtyard. ‘Where did all your Templars disappear to? Are they called to duty this morning?’

‘Rotation change over.’ explained the Knight-Captain. ‘Knight-Commander Cullen has decided to rotate the Templars up here on a monthly roster. Some of the Templars return to Caer Bronach, and another lot are sent up here to train. It’s a better way to give everyone experience up here with the mages, and enjoy a little reprieve in between. And well, it boosts the morale in the encampment. Many of my men and women have loved ones back in Crestwood. So we’re a little short on Templars until the Knight-Commander returns from Caer Bronach with the new garrison.’

‘Your Knight-Commander has already left?’ observed Michel with a frown. ‘There was something important I had wished to speak to him about this morning.’

Sheldon lifted his brows in surprise. ‘Well yes, Knight-Commander Cullen left first thing this morning with Lady de Chevin. I just assumed you knew?’

The chevalier’s blue eyes darted to the templar swiftly. ‘My wife has accompanied your Templars to Crestwood?’ exclaimed Michel in surprise ‘For what reason?’

Sheldon raised his hand calmly, as he incorrectly guessed the reason for Michel’s concern. ‘Not to worry, our Templars are very respectful. Unlike common mercenaries, our people are disciplined and professional. Your wife will be treated with the utmost respect and protection from any dangers that are met on the road. And my Knight-Commander would ensure Lady Rose remains safe on their journey. He is a very honourable man.’

‘Is he just?’ replied Michel flatly. The chevalier stirred irritably, unable to let the matter slide. ‘Do you know when they intend to return? How long are they to stay?’

‘No more than a day trip I’ve been told.’ reassured Sheldon. ‘Knight-Commander Cullen insisted he would return as soon as possible.’. The templar shrugged. ‘These are strange times, as you know. It’s hard enough organising an encampment in Crestwood, let alone another one up here. We must make exceptions I suppose for spontaneous factors that draw my Commander back to Caer Bronach. In fact this roster change was only ordered a few hours ago. No doubt our Knight-Commander has pressing matters in Crestwood that sped up this templar garrison switchover.’

‘And why exactly does your Knight-Commander feel it necessary to take my wife to your fortress at Caer Bronach?’ interrogated Michel. ‘Does your order not think it a little inappropriate to be asking services from an Orlesian noblewoman? I’ve not even had the chance to speak to your Knight-Commander about this arrangement. At present I care little for my wife performing physical labours for your Order. Her father is Marquis Lothair of the House of Doucy. He would be outraged in hearing that his daughter is working like a peasant. Tailor work should be left for the tailor, and I’m certain your Order can afford to hire one up here.’

The templar nodded calmly, as if he completely understood Michel’s noble grievances. ‘Unfortunately it is quite hard to secure a tailor willing to travel and live up here in the Frostback Mountains while we make camp here. We’ve been unlucky so far to secure anyone. I can see you are concerned. If I may say, I had the pleasure of meeting your wife yesterday in our encampment and she is a remarkable woman. Very selfless in offering her aid to our Templars up here. _And insistent._ I guarantee she pursued this idea even when my Knight-Commander questioned the suitability of such an offer. He shared your concerns.’

Michel raised an unconvinced brow. ‘Are you saying my wife forced Cullen to offer her a job?’

‘He had doubts as to whether it was appropriate, taking into consideration that she is your wife and a guest here.’ replied Sheldon. ‘Lady de Chevin insisted it would not be a problem.’

Irritably the chevalier flicked his blonde brows at the Knight-Captain. ‘Yes well the matter remains that your Knight-Commander never asked for my permission. I don’t know how they do it in Ferelden but the appropriate thing for Cullen to have done would have been to address the matter with me. Lady Rose’s husband.’

‘I just assumed your wife would have discussed the matter with you?’ replied Sheldon politely, albeit a little perplexed.

Michel rolled his eyes. ‘She did. I didn’t permit it.’

‘Ah.’ frowned Sheldon. ‘I see the issue now.’

‘You’ve still not told me why Cullen has taken Rose to Caer Bronach?’ pressed Michel.

‘Her offer of assistance to aid in repairs has resulted in a need for her to visit the storerooms in Caer Bronach in order to assess what must to be brought here.’ explained Sheldon patiently. ‘Patching materials and such, I know not what? I admit I’m terrible with repairs. Your wife must be an angel sent by the Maker himself, for truly we have need of a tailor up here. Our Knight-Commander felt it would be useful if Lady Rose could come see the supplies herself and order what she needs brought back from the merchants in Crestwood.’

The chevalier nodded sharply. ‘Well I guess that is that then. Thank you for letting me know. I shall not keep you any longer from your Templars.’

The templar gestured to the ring with a smile. ‘There are few here but you’re welcome to train with us this morning. We’re always in need of advice from a skilled warrior.’

Michel shook his head with a polite smile. ‘Thank you Sheldon, but I must decline. I have other matters to attend this morning.’

‘Of course.’ saluted the templar. ‘Oh and try not to worry. I’m certain everything will turn out for the very best. You’ll see!’

Turning away, the chevalier’s smile drained from his pale face.

‘_Mar’alath _what have you got yourself embroiled in?’ he murmured darkly, shaking his head in frustration. ‘Does my past justify you doing all this? No, I will not be disheartened. I am your husband and I will never stop fighting for you..._even if it appears you have stopped fighting for me_.’


	156. Faith

A procession of red uniforms on horseback rode down the winding path of Gherlan’s Pass that sunny morning. At the head of the line Knight-Commander Cullen led his templars. His hands gripped the reigns firmly as he navigated the rocky trail with Rose de Chevin’s arms wrapped tight around his torso. The beginning of the journey resulted in few words being exchanged between the pair, as Knight-Captain Arrus rode alongside the Commander and discussed work related issues requiring attention when they arrived in Caer Bronach.

By the time the Templars reached the bottom of the Frostback Mountain and hit the clearing, the group’s pace slowed down to allow the horses a little reprieve before the final gallop past Lake Calenhad and up to the keep.

Breathing in the fresh Ferelden morning air, the Commander scanned his amber eyes across the plains. The heat off the sunburnt grass eased his tired muscles as he stretched in his saddle.

‘How are you going back there?’ he called out, turning his head a little towards Rose to reveal a curl on his scarred lip. ‘There’s nothing quite like riding a horse down the Frostback Mountains eh?’

The tone in Cullen’s voice suggested he was joking.

Rose cast her green eyes across the open field, her cheeks flushed with pink from the icy air of the mountains. ‘It was _exhilarating_.’ she replied breathlessly. ‘All my life I’ve been driven by footmen along paved roads in cities. My father didn’t permit me to learn how to ride.’

‘Truly?’ remarked Cullen in surprise.

‘He said there was no need for a lady to travel in such a way.’ informed Rose a little dryly, as if the matter had been argued about greatly in previous years. ‘I’ve never felt the wind sweep so cold against my face. So brisk and _liberating_. To ride where there is nothing between us and the endless view of the valleys below. I admit I loved it!’

Cullen lifted his brows in amusement. ‘In all my life I’ve never heard such _enthusiasm_ from anyone venturing along Gherlan’s Pass. My troops, both Inquisition and Templar, would always complain that the path was too narrow, winding and full of sharp rocks that the horses kicked up. Perhaps we can make a soldier out of you yet?’

‘Can you imagine?’ laughed Rose, rolling her eyes. ‘I’ve never used a sword or shield. I don’t know archery. I can’t ride a horse. And I don’t like the sight of blood.’

‘And you sleep in past sunrise.’ added Cullen playfully.

The lady laughed. ‘Yes, that too!’

The Commander shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised but a lot of my Templars started out the same way. We don’t all come out of a crate being exceptional warriors.’

The templar laughed as he felt Rose lightly slap his metal cuirass.

‘Hush, I’m not that simple.’ she chastised merrily. ‘Although I believe _you_ must have come out of a crate as such. I can’t see you as anything else but a leader. The dignified way you present yourself; a strong and dedicated man of faith. Riding fearlessly into glorious battles and protecting the realm from the abuse of magic. And the way your Templars look up to you? I can see how much they respect you. That is not something a man can learn. No, you were born into this role by the hand of the Maker himself.’

‘Those are kind words.’ acknowledged Cullen. ‘But the reality of mankind is far less gilded I’m afraid. Most young men savour a sword and a thirst to explore the realm. As a boy I was no different. In fact my life began as most peasants. My parents had little but I was raised in a good Andrastian household where manners and morals were upheld. My father laboured in an honest trade tilling the fields, my mother tended to the hearth and took care of my siblings and I, and in between my daily chores I swung around a stick for a sword.’

‘A fine pastime if ever there was one!’ mused Rose ‘I can just imagine you doing such a thing. All boys dream of being knights.’

‘All boys of nobility perhaps?’ dismissed Cullen. ‘No, as a peasant there were few options before me. I could follow in my father’s trade, which didn’t appeal to me in the slightest. King Maric was always looking for mercenary’s to join his army, yet unless wars were fought there was little pay in it and no stability. And then there was the Templar Order.’. The templar ran his hand fondly along his warhorse’s black mane. ‘An Order dedicated to the Andrastian faith and service of the Maker’s will. It was my chance to fight with a sword in my hand for a worthy cause.’

‘Such a fine calling.’ observed Rose fondly. ‘To dedicate your path to the Maker sounds spiritually fulfilling on a level many of us could not hope to achieve. I am a devote Andrastian and find a lot of solace in my faith, but I find my life gets in the way of my service to the Maker. I can only imagine what it felt like; casting aside all that you were to walk the path of the truly faithful. It must have felt like breaking free of the shackles of your very existence.’

The templar turned his head to reveal a smile. ‘Then you do understand? That is exactly what it felt like.’

‘Glory to the Maker, praise be his name.’ praised Rose. ‘Tell me, what was life like living in the Chantry?’

Cullen shrugged. ‘Disciplined, yet satisfying. There’s not an hour throughout the day where you can be idle. We arose at four in the morning and attended mass. We ate in silence, listening to the Chant of Light being read by one brother. We worked hard studying, training and praying. In the evening we were allowed one hour to ourselves before bedtime, and in that hour we often read or spent time in the garden to reflect on the day. We weren’t permitted to leave the Chantry walls but I confess I never really wished to. Everything I needed was within those stone walls.’

‘It sounds perfectly simple.’ observed Rose. ‘The Chantry must have rejoiced the day you joined them.’

Rubbing his jaw, the templar appeared to recall his time there fondly. ‘In truth I rejoiced in joining them. I owe the Chantry a lot. They took me in and taught me to read and write. For a peasant that is a rare accomplishment. Before I knew it I was studying the Chant of Light and learning the duties of a templar. I was educated about magic and taught how dangerous it was. Most importantly, _I was brought into the service of the Maker_.’. The templar lifted a hand and made the sign of the Chantry in respect. ‘I travelled to the Grand Cathedral with my fellow initiates and witnessed the magnificence of that place of worship. A farmer’s lad such as myself never dreamed such a place existed, let alone believed he would be called there to join the Order. As I fell to my knees by that altar I experienced the divine love of the Maker’s presence. It brought tears to my eyes. At that moment I knew that _this path_ was my true calling. There was nothing more important to me and to this day it remains the same. When I returned to Ferelden I saw the world so differently. My mentors were not mere tutors, but vessels of wisdom. My life was now dedicated to their teachings and I strived to live a selfless life. Unselfish living reflects the Maker to a watching world. And truly, the highest form of worship is the worship of unselfish Andrastian service. The brothers and sisters in the Chantry were strict but very wise. Every lesson I was taught during my years there I hold close to my heart. ’

Rose subconsciously wrapped her hands tighter around the man’s waist, as if embracing his sentimental words. ‘Cullen, you speak to me of your tutors with such passion. I confess I’m envious. I had the best tutors money could afford and never did they evoke even a whisper of the passion that you speak of.’

‘Faith is a powerful mentor.’ observed Cullen. ‘Sometimes money can rob one of their moral compass. The most highly paid mentors in Orlais are no doubt driven by coin and perhaps less by their faith? Those scholars who are driven by faith end up living simple lives in the Chantry, their passion nourishing their souls more than the pleasures of the material world.’

‘I am touched by your humility.’ confessed Lady de Chevin. ‘All you’ve achieved is convincing me without a doubt that _you did_ come out of a crate as the magnificent Knight-Commander I see before me.’

Laughing, Cullen shook his head in amusement. ‘No, many years of service have made me the man I am today. And like any good Andrastian, I know we are all with sin and must strive to fight off those temptations. It is a daily struggle to uphold the teachings of the Chantry. Some days I win and some days I lose.’

‘The hardships in life are lessons sent by the Maker. We must try to treat them as such.’ observed Rose. ‘A good Andrastian knows that living in the mortal world brings mortal tempations of sin. With the Maker’s help, and our own actions, we will strive to live purely in an impure world.’

‘No matter what is thrown our way, we must always try to uphold our faith and honour.’ agreed the Commander. ‘If those values are lost then we are no better than the corrupt.’

The lady laughed softly to herself, causing the Commander to tilt his head back once more.

‘You don’t agree?’ asked Cullen.

‘No I was just thinking that although you and my husband may quarrel, you share such similar sentiments.’ observed Rose. ‘Michel often says such things to me as you have just now. You may find you have more in common with him than you believe?’

Gripping the reign tight, Cullen kicked his heels a little sharper, causing the horse to speed in his trot.

‘We couldn’t be more different’ he muttered. ‘Come, let us ride harder. There is a least a few hours until we reach Caer Bronach.’

****

‘Jowan, I need a potion to stop me from visiting _The Cock and Bull_.’

The mage peered up from his book as I stumbled into our study late that morning. Red eyed and peaky, I shakily sat down by the fire and clutched my poor throbbing head.

‘Has the plague come to town?’ teased Jowan.

‘If only.’ I groaned. ‘At least then it wouldn’t be self-inflicted and I could avoid paying one hundred groschen to the Chantry tithe for the sin of indulgence.’

‘The blessed coin will cleanse your sins.’ mused Jowan. Snapping his book shut, the mage began to rummage in his desk draw, finally pulling out a small bottle.

‘Here, take a few drop of this. It’ll ease your hangover.’

Eagerly I grabbed the curious black bottle only to grimace as the bitter drops hit my tongue. ‘Ugh Jowan this tastes like dog sweat.’

Jowan crossed his arms in amusement as I suddenly clutched my head in surprise.

‘Feeling better?’ he asked smugly.

Rising to my feet, I hesitated in confusion. To my surprise I felt…._perfect._ Every part of my body was energised and felt light and free. There was no more pounding heartbeat in my head and the desire to wretch my insides had disappeared.

‘My body isn’t screaming at me and the room has stopped spinning.’ I remarked in disbelief. ‘I feel as good as I did last night. What was in that bottle? Oh no, it’s not _Magi Monk Mead Holy Water_, is it?’

‘Blood magic.’ replied Jowan, as casually as if informing me he added salt to the soup. ‘A demon of gluttony taught me to make that potion. One day I was suffering the most diabolical hangover after drowning my sorrows in plum brandy. This was when I was young and foolish and believed slivovitz was something I could drink by the bottle. The demon showed me a way to rid oneself of even the most deadliest of alcohol poisonings. It’s rather useful.’

Grimacing, I handed the bottle back. ‘Blood magic? _Really?_ I haven’t even had breakfast yet.’

Cheekily Jowan flashed a brilliant smile. ‘I used my own blood in that. You should be grateful it wasn’t some innocent dairymaid’s.’

‘Yes thank goodness we’re taking the Templars with us into the Fade to use as bleeders.’ I joked, rolling my eyes. ‘If not I suspect we’d be accompanied by all the innocent dancing dairy maids you could get your evil little blood mage hands on.’

Jowan laughed, shaking his head. ‘The Chantry love using that one on the people. Lock up your virgins, good folk. Not because of us blood mages, mind you. I’d personally lock up my dairy maids to keep them away from those lecherous old fools in the Chantry that fantasise about purity like a bunch of drooling cretins. It reveals who the truly deprived are, doesn’t it?’

‘Speaking of Templars.’ I grinned ‘Have you spoken to Cullen this morning? We’re to draw the phylacteries of our mages today.’

Jowan’s smile faded. ‘_Today?_ I was hoping to delay that matter a while. Why are you smiling like a cat that got the cream? It’s the opposite of how I imagined you’d be.’

‘I managed to persuade Cullen that _you and I_ can draw the blood ourselves.’ I revealed smugly. ‘Six templars will be in the room but _we can do the deed. _Right in front of their very eyes. If you catch my drift?_’_

Tapping my nose, I smirked at Jowan.

The mage tilted his head at me curiously. ‘To play parlour tricks before the king? Or to put the entire court to sleep?’

‘Dealer’s choice?’ I mused.

Jowan waved his hand. ‘Sleep spells rarely end up fooling the recipient. They wake up and realise something odd was at play that they should collapse in a slumberous heap for no reason. No, the Templars won’t be fooled by that. Illusion magic is far more convincing. Using blood magic would be even better? I’d use the blood of one of our mages, and upon reciting the words to our Templars they would fall into a stupor as I instructed to them what I was doing.’. The mage reached for his cup of tea on the war table and took a sip. ‘Look Templars, behold me drawing the blood of my first mage.’. Jowan took another sip of his tea with a wicked grin. ‘And there is the second phylactery drawn _right before your eyes_.’

‘Are you saying you can put them in a trance and convince them you’re doing something when you’re not?’ I laughed. ‘And here I was thinking we could hide fake bottles of blood up our sleeves and do a good old fashioned switch over?’

Jowan rolled his eyes at me. ‘Barbarian.’. A diabolical curl formed on his lip. ‘I applaud you for convincing that oaf to go along with this plan. Our mages will be spared a deathly knock on their door in later years. How did you manage to sway Cullen? A Knight-Commander bending the rules for a mage sounds a little risky? Especially since you and he aren’t exactly seeing eye to eye as of late?’

‘The details don’t matter.’ I replied, unable to look the man in the eye. ‘Come on, let’s go round up our mages and tell them the plan. Then we can go get Cullen and get this over with.’

‘He left Skyhold this morning.’ informed Jowan disinterestedly. ‘The Knight-Commander and his pasty white rat rode out with their men at dawn. The cretins woke me up with their shouting over the battlements.’

‘Rode out?’ I frowned ‘Where to? Was there an attack nearby?’

The mage shrugged. ‘Haven’t a clue. There was about fifty of them, heading down Gherlan’s Pass. They rode slow; most likely it was nothing urgent.’. Jowan raised a cynical brow. ‘You seem disappointed they’ve gone?’

Shaking my head, I couldn’t make sense of it. ‘Cullen promised me we’d draw the phylacteries this morning. We agreed to do it _this morning_.’

‘Something must have come up?’ dismissed Jowan.

‘He would have told me if he and fifty of his men were heading out this morning.’ I argued. ‘No, it doesn’t make sense. We agreed to this.’

Jowan shrugged. ‘No doubt they’ll be back before long and willing to get our mages blood then. Why do you care if it’s not done this morning?’

‘I suppose it doesn’t matter?’ I frowned. ‘It just took a little convincing to make this happen, I’d have hoped it would have been over and done with today.’

Patting his lip tentatively, it was apparent Jowan wished to speak of something else. He suddenly drew his robed black sleeve, gesturing to our chairs by the fire.

‘Come sit with me for a moment.’ he encouraged, drawing closer to the fireplace.

His slender fingers wiggled before the heat as his attention fell to the flames. Whatever was on his mind was clearly consuming him.

‘There’s a loaded invitation I ever I heard one.’ I scoffed, my eyes narrowing in on him. 

Jowan nodded solemnly. ‘Please indulge me just this once.’

Dragging my feet, I sat before the fire in the usual chair I often read in at night. The embers licked the flames softly, glowing orange and white from the heat. Turning to Jowan in curious anticipation, he remained silent for a while, meditating on matters I could only guess. His pale features were accentuated before the flicker of flames while his black hair that fell straight to the top of his shoulders almost appeared a shadow in contrast.

‘Michel told me about the other night when Cullen broke into your room.’ informed Jowan quietly. ‘He told me how Cullen described your…._relationship.’_

Sighing heavily, I shook my head. ‘Cullen was just drunk.’

The mage nodded pensively, turning back to the flames before him. ‘Allow me to tell you a story? Many years ago, when I was living with Charles Quillor, I used to frequent Minrathous. Several times a year Charles and I would visit the city.’

‘That’s the imperial city of Tevinter, isn’t it?’ I observed with a frown. ‘What’s a fugitive blood mage wandering the Imperium so freely?’

Jowan waved his hand at the question. ‘It would have been more foreign to the Tevine’s had Charles not have been a blood mage. The place is filled with blood mages. Now as I was saying, he took me to Minrathous quite a lot. And in Minrathous there are these opulent smoking dens where you can lounge away the hours on crushed velvet pillows; drinking the finest liquors and smoking the finest cigarillos in Thedas. Charles loved these dens, and we always went. And me being little more than a recently escaped caged animal from the Ferelden tower _adored_ _these dens_.’. The mage drew in a deep breath, as if his senses were ignited by the mere thought of the place. ‘I took a fancy to tinctures and pipes laced with opium. They made my mind burst into flames while my body melted away. It was terrible for me, I knew that. But I didn’t care because I enjoyed it.’

‘You were addicted to Opium?’ I remarked in surprise.

‘Yes and no.’ answered Jowan cryptically. ‘I could have stopped but I didn’t want to. And soon my body starting thinning and my mind was lost in a fog. I knew I took pleasure in something that was utterly dangerous for me…_but I did it anyway_. It helped me forget about things I couldn’t forget. Such as Lily.’. The mage drew his dark eyes to me. ‘It was Charles who finally pulled me aside one day and gave me the reality check I desperately needed. He explained to me addiction begins with the thought that something physical can fill up our emptiness inside. _It can’t. _All we achieve is escaping reality until the effects wear off. Before you know it, you’re addicted to escaping reality. And that, Ophelia, is a dangerous way to live.’

Sighing, I turned my attention to the flames. ‘Why do I get the feeling this isn’t really about your adventures with Charles in Opium dens?’

‘You’re addicted to Cullen’s manhandling and he is no good for you.’ informed Jowan bluntly. ‘Let’s call it for what he is. That man has got some serious issues and HE IS NOT GOOD FOR YOU.’

Clutching my temples, I could feel the headache returning at the thought of another templar versus mage argument. ‘Jowan…’

‘Your life has been riddled with holes Ophelia, I’m well aware of that.’ continued Jowan, pointing a sharp finger at me. ‘You’ve craved love and security ever since you were a child but never received it. Cullen was an authoritative figure who you were drawn to, in the hopes of finally obtaining that affection. But Cullen was never looking to serve that role with anyone, let alone a mage such as yourself. He enjoys sadism and was looking for someone like you to fill that hole within him.’. The mage rolled his eyes. ‘Pardon the pun.’

‘We’re all trying to fill the holes, Jowan.’ I muttered darkly, throwing him a smirk. ‘Pardon the pun.’

Jowan shook his head in amusement. ‘Too many puns.’. Drawing his cold hand onto mine, the mage grew serious once more. ‘Allow me to give you the reality check you sorely need right now. Cullen is using you for his pleasure and in return you escape from reality, but only in the heat of the moment when I suspect Cullen gives you that _love _you have wanted. That is why you find yourself spellbound by this templar.’

‘You said deep down that _it was I who controlled him_.’ I corrected.

Jowan frowned. ‘I didn’t realise _the price_ you were paying for that control. It’s not worth it. You’re addicted to escaping this hellish reality, _I get it_. None of us particularly enjoy reality. But it’s time you return to the real world Ophelia. I need you here with me. You don’t exist to indulge the sadistic sexual perversities of Knight-Commander Cullen.’

Feeling as if someone had punched me in the guts, I sat there speechless.

‘Talk about hitting the nail on the head.’ I muttered, unwilling to turn away from the flames before me. ‘Look I broke it off with Cullen for the very reasons you’ve mentioned. But…’. Rubbing my neck shamefully, I struggled to find the words. ‘…damn it all, I did something _so stupid_ last night. I allowed Cullen to enjoy himself so I could wrangle a favour out of him. To let us take the phylacteries of our mages.’

Jowan sighed heavily in dissapointment. ‘I said stay close to Cullen, not use your body to win favours for our mages and then drown your sorrows in drink.’

‘It wasn’t entirely like that.’ I muttered, knowing deep down it was. ‘Besides, you can’t stay close to Cullen and not expect him to have his way with you. He’s only happy when he’s whipping and fucking you.’

‘Remind me never to get close to Cullen.’ muttered Jowan. ‘The white rat better watch out.’

Casting each other a look, we suddenly broke into laughter. It was a welcome break in an otherwise dark conversation.

Shaking my head in amusement, I knew jokes aside that Jowan was right. ‘I know you must wonder why I let him him do what he does. It’s just…Cullen is such a different person when he’s not filled with all that rage.’ I pointed out. ‘He’s witty and funny, even warm and affectionate. I love that side of him, but I know it’s only a part of who he truly is’

Shaking my head miserably, I knew it was a hopeless cause.

‘Love…is complicated.’ observed Jowan darkly. ‘Lily loved me enough to run off with me, but she couldn’t accept that I was a blood mage. Sometimes love isn’t enough.’

Patting the man on the arm, I threw him a sad smile. ‘She loved you.’

‘How could she?’ muttered Jowan. ‘I’m the reason she’s dead.’

‘The Templars are the reason.’ I corrected.

Drawing his hands closer to the flames, Jowan frowned. ‘Sometimes I just wish you and I could just run away, and start afresh. We’d take Valahorn and Caerwyn, and just go.’

‘Go where?’ I chuckled. ‘Kirkwall? Denerim Palace? Caer Bronach? Redcliffe Castle? We’ve so many lovely destinations to choose from.’

‘Orlais.’ informed Jowan seriously.

He nodded at my surprised reaction.

‘Orlais? We’ve no connections in Orlais?’ I perplexed. ‘Not to mention we’d be accused of stealing the King of Ferelden’s children. We can’t just flounce about Val Royeaux with a feather in our cap and expect nothing to come of it.’

Jowan raised a suggestive dark brow. ‘We have Michel de Chevin and his connections to the Emperor. It’s a long shot but we could seek refuge at his court?’

‘Michel would never sway his Emperor for us.’ I dismissed. ‘That chevalier is all smiles and charm, but beneath it all he plays his own political game so well it’s landed him a position in Emperor Gaspard's Royal Guard. Which we all know is the Emperor's inner circle and council. And it’s not something he’ll risk for a bunch of threadbare apostates. And nor should he. He owes us nothing.’

‘Even without Michel’s help, Gaspard himself would welcome the Queen consort and Princess of Ferelden.’ argued Jowan. ‘You both represent a lot of power that he’d appreciate sitting in his court. And Valahorn is Divine Victoria’s child. That will also hold a lot of weight in court, especially one so religious as the Orlesian court.’

‘We’d get to live with our children. And finally raise them’ I contemplated. ‘They’d finally be away from Denerim Palace but they’d be pawns in a greater game that could lead to a war.’

‘Some things are worth fighting for.’ retorted Jowan sharply. ‘We owe it to Valahorn and Caerwyn. Be careful of letting the years slip by. One day you'll discover we’ve lost our children to time and complacency.’. Lowering his head sadly, he added miserably. ‘What’s the point in all this if I can’t share it with my son? He's nearly five years old. I can't wait any longer Ophelia.’

Reaching my arm around his shoulder, I pulled the man towards me in a hug. Jowan struggled playfully as I pulled him to me. ‘Come here.’ I grinned, running an affectionate hand across his pale cheek before pressing his head against mine. ‘I swore we’d get our children out of there.’ I reassured. ‘Jowan, I meant it. I want Caerwyn with me as much as you want your son here. But we have to be smart about this. When the time comes to take Valahorn and Caerwyn from the palace we have an upper hand. Orlais sounds like a good place to run, I agree. And if Alistair comes after us we have the power to stop him and his uncles in their tracks.’

Jowan wrapped his arm around me, maintaining the hug with a curious smile. ‘Tell me?’

‘His elven heritage.’ I whispered. ‘That is something he will never want exposed.’

The mage squeezed tighter. ‘Of course, dear mama Fiona. Eamon Guerin will lay an egg when he realises we know the truth.’

‘Do you think Eamon knows Fiona is Alistair’s real mother?’ I pondered.

‘Of course he does.’ smirked Jowan. ‘Eamon and Maric were thick as thieves. That’s why Alistair ended up in the care of Eamon. He was looking after Maric’s bastard.’

‘Ferelden will start a war if we take the children.’ I warned. ‘Eamon Guerin guards the Theirin bloodline ruthlessly. He’s been scarred by living in a kingdom reigned by Anora for ten years. A Theirin must sit on the throne. But an elven Theirin might be another thing entirely? He’ll fight to keep that secret at all costs.’

‘And Alistair would have to strike first at us.’ countered Jowan. ‘He can’t afford to wage war with Orlais under Gaspard’s rule. Gaspard has a strong army.’

‘Alistair holds huge numbers of Templars.’ I argued ‘Many thousands I’m told.’

‘The Chantry won’t get involved.’ dismissed Jowan. ‘Especially when Orlais is the home to the Grand Cathedral and the White Spire.’

‘It’s not your worst idea.’ I agreed. ‘Perhaps we could entertain the idea of approaching Gaspard? But it feels wrong to use Michel to win the Emperor’s favour. And improbable? If Rose didn’t hate me before she does now. Cullen’s being causing trouble between Michel and his wife.’

Jowan nodded as if he already knew. ‘Yes, Michel told me about Cullen’s trip down memory lane. Why do you think he did that?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ I muttered. ‘Most likely he just hates Michel and wanted to see him squirm.’

‘Perhaps you should go to Denerim before Cullen returns?’ suggested Jowan. ‘Take a break from the templar. Put some distance between you and he.’

‘I’m not running away from my problems, Jowan.’

‘Isn’t that what I’ve been proposing we just do?’ laughed the mage.

Patting his arm, I arose from the chair. ‘I got myself into this mess with Cullen and I’ll get my way out. _Somehow_. But thank you for the reality check. Only someone who truly cared would sit me down and tell me what a complete bone-head I’ve been.’

‘Mutton-head.’ corrected Jowan. ‘And given your track record _in dealing with Cullen_ I’d say you’re in over your head.’

‘Perhaps I do need to plan some time away?’ I frowned. ‘I’ll avoid Cullen like the plague for a while and then go to Denerim to see the children for a few weeks. He’ll get the message soon enough.’


	157. Lord of the Manor

_Dear Leliana, _

_I hope you and Valahorn are well? _

_I admit I was happy in receiving your letter but also surprised at your request. It is commendable that you wish to be involved in this mission against Sapientes, but considering all that you have been through do you really think that wise? You don’t need to do this. Valahorn is our son and we have a common interest in defeating this demon. That is why I agree to work with the Templars. To secure what we need in order to destroy Sapientes. _

_Currently our mages train daily and I am teaching them how to use blood to cast magic. It’s delicate work and performed behind closed doors so the Templars are not privy to it. Still the blockheads suspect what we’re doing and there is apparent disdain projected towards my mages. Cullen has brought many of his Templars up here and to be honest it feels like they’re still watching us as they did in the towers. My phylactery (and Ophelia’s) have been taken and those bottles are now stored far away in the White Spire. So overall...not happy._

_Although your offer of help at Skyhold is appreciated I’d encourage you to stay put in Denerim and recover. There is no need to venture up here, unless you wish to hold the reins of the Templars. Then again, they probably wouldn’t listen to you even if you tried._

_Send Valahorn my love. _

_Regards, _

_Jowan_

Leliana crumpled up the letter in her hand as she finished reading. Flinging it on the breakfast table, she grabbed her tea and sipped away in silent annoyance.

Distracted by her grumbles, Alistair peered over the letter he was reading.

Breaking fast in the breakfast room at Denerim Palace had always been something Alistair enjoyed starting the day with. The long table was laid out with pastries, fruit, hard boiled eggs, meats and freshly brewed coffee and tea. His letters were always waiting on a silver tray, and Alistair had the luxury of reading them as the sunlight from the garden spilled in through the windows and warmed his shoulders. The morning ritual always paved the way for a good day for the king. Yet on this particular morning his companion did not seem so cheerful after the messenger arrived to deliver her one neatly folded letter from Skyhold.

‘Anything interesting happening up in The Frostback Mountains?’ inquired Alistair. ‘Every time I’ve received a letter from there it’s always filled with such wonderful uplifting words. Such as - _King Alistair; your guards have outstayed their welcome at our keep. Tell them to leave or we will make them. _You know, that kind of thing.’

Grinning in his apple as he took a bite, he watched as Leliana sipped her hot drink in displeasure.

‘I used to be the head of the Chantry. Now I’m as useful as a stale bannock.’ muttered Leliana.

_‘Leli_, you’re important to me.’ chuckled Alistair. ‘And wasn’t it you that told me you hated being Divine? So what if you’re a stale bannock? I like stale bannocks!’

Scrunching the letter in her fist, she held it up in annoyance. ‘Alistair, I need to be a part of this mission. _I have to be._ But since I’m not a mage or a templar apparently I’m out.’

Alistair sighed, as if he already was well aware why Leliana wished to be involved. ‘Would you really risk everything for revenge? You’ve escaped with your life, and now have a chance to be with your son. Why risk your life once more to join this army?’

‘Aiding in a mission to ensure it is successful is not risking my life.’ argued Leliana. ‘I’m not suggesting I go back into the Fade. I’d never go back there. But I can help ensure Sapientes dies on this mission. I met demons in the Fade that were not all as loyal to Sapientes as he would think.’

Her hand shook as she took another sip of her drink. The porcelain clanked dangerously, threatening to break as Leliana dropped the cup onto the table and spilled tea over the white tablecloth. Her head lowered as she clutched her red hair despondently.

Alistair arose from his seat at the opposite side of the table and rushed over. Crouching down beside her, Alistair wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her sympathetically.

‘It’s okay _Leli_.’ Alistair comforted as Leliana sunk her head into his shoulder. 'Those memories are behind you now.'

‘I’m so tired of this.’ confessed Leliana miserably.

‘I know.’ whispered Alistair, placing a kiss on her head.

‘It’s not enough that I sit back and do nothing.’ confessed Leliana. ‘If I'm to move on from this _I need to be a part of this_. Who has recently witnessed the terror we hope to destroy? _Me._ My time in the Fade may serve as useful, but the Templars and the mages want no part of it. It’s as if everyone only sees me as a pitiful victim that should be avoided at all costs. I feel like no one can hear or see me?! I was there with Sapientes. _I was there._’

The king placed another tender kiss on her head. ‘No one thinks that. We just know you’ve been through a terrible experience.’ Alistair explained. ‘No one would ask any more of you. You’ve done enough.’

‘I was held prisoner for four years Alistair.’ replied Leliana sharply. ‘I didn’t _do_ _anything_.’. She shook her head in frustration. ‘The Maker released me and no one believes me. Again they all think I’m crazy. _But I was there_. The Maker wanted me personally to go defeat Sapientes. _The Maker must return to the Golden Throne._ Only me and Jowan can accomplish this. The only problem is no one believes me. Even our dear Divine Elizabeth refuses to listen to the direct wishes of the Maker. She is willing to send some blood mages and Templars into the Fade but she won’t take my counsel. My story falls onto deaf ears.’

‘I hear you, I do.’ replied Alistair gently. Fondly he ran a hand through her red hair, stroking the long strands in-between his fingers. ‘What can I do to help you? What do you need?’

Pulling back from his arms, Leliana met Alistair’s brown eyes with determination. ‘I need to go to Skyhold and help with this mission.’

‘Anywhere but there!’ protested Alistair, shaking his head. ‘I’ve already lost one wife to that place. Please don’t let me lose you too. You’ll waltz up there and never come back down. Before I know it the-’

Leliana placed a finger on his lip to cease his chatter. ‘_I love you_. Nothing will ever keep us apart.’

Alistair’s chestnut brown eyes caught Leliana’s green eyes as he solemnly looked at her.

‘You love me?’ he observed quietly. ‘Really? You actually…_love me?’_

It was the first time Leliana had said those words to him. 

‘_With all my heart Alistair_.’ vowed Leliana. She frowned, noticing his serious face unwavering at her declaration. ‘Do you love me?’

‘Well….._of course I love you!’_ replied Alistair, breaking out into a large smile. ‘I just didn’t want to scare you off by saying it too soon. Like you know, when Cassandra brought you here to me on the first day.’. His fingers playfully walked off, showing her what he suspected would have happened. ‘Away you’d run, thinking I was some obsessed loon.’

The woman shook her head playfully. ‘Nope, too late. He doesn’t love me. Poor poor me, Alistair doesn’t love me.’

‘No fair!’ pouted Alistair ‘_I love you_.’. With a foolish grin he spread his arms wide. ‘Has anyone loved you this much? I love you this much.’

‘I don’t know if it’s enough?’ grinned Leliana, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘I treated his royal Emperor Gaspard to that fine lunch in Lothering the other day. You owe me Alistair.’

Alistair recalled the lunch with a grimace. ‘Yessss I definitely _owe you_ for that. Revenge is best served cold and I shall do that on our next luncheon. Some place that oozes the promise of food poisoning. Perhaps we’ll take dinner at _The Pearl?_’

Laughing at the king’s suggestion, she shook her head. ‘Oh no no. We’ve been there far too many times in days gone past.’

‘I can’t believe Zevran used to drag us there with him _to_ _drink_.’ recalled Alistair in disbelief. ‘No amount of drinking can erase the memory of that Antivan wooing whores while we sat there at the bar being _incredibly uncomfortable_.’

Leliana giggled, putting on her best Zevran accent. '_Ahhh, I grew up in a place such as this. They say you can never go home again, but for ten silvers an hour you can get pretty close."_

Bursting out in hysterics, Alistair slapped his knee. 'I can just hear him saying that. Well he did say that, didn't he? All-the-time.'

'All the time.' laughed Leliana.

Playfully he placed a kiss on her cheek before returning to his chair at the head of the table. Sipping his chalice of juice, Alistair nodded as he lifted it towards Leliana. ‘To Skyhold then! When do we leave?’

‘You wish to come with me? The King of Ferelden escorting the fallen Divine Victoria?’ teased Leliana. ‘That might get tongues wagging?’

‘Wag away, I don’t care.’ dismissed Alistair. ‘Besides it’s no secret I’m courting you, despite my uncle’s best efforts to make it so. And Skyhold is my keep! We landlords are entitled to see our property every four years or so. Make sure the mages haven’t painted the place in bright blue or put too many picture hooks in the walls. Or perhaps run the place entirely into the ground. Or is that how I left it?’

‘Is that the last time you visited?’ exclaimed Leliana. ‘Four years ago? That's how long it's been for me.’

‘The one place in my kingdom I wish to be rid of.’ muttered Alistair. ‘Ophelia and I fought for years about that cursed place before she finally packed her bags and left for it. It holds no sentimental value on my part. I certainly wasn’t interested in going up there to see what my ex-wife and Jowan MacLothlorian were getting up to.’

‘Are they together?’ asked Leliana in surprise.

The Ferelden rolled his hand airily into the air. ‘Who knows? She kept on going on about _training the mages_ for so many years I figured it was either code for Michel de Chevin, or Jowan had managed to brainwash her. I guess it was the latter? After our divorce she ran off with Jowan to the Frostback Mountains to rally the apostates.’

Leliana rolled her eyes. ‘And here I thought Cullen was the apple of her eye.’

‘It’s always been Michel.’ muttered Alistair. ‘Serves me right.’

‘You feel guilty about your marriage to her, don’t you?’ observed Leliana. ‘Even now?’

Playing with his scraps, the king shrugged. ‘It was a political move, not personal. Eamon always reminded me that. But a marriage without love is a soulless union and something I’ll never do to myself again. We tried to make it work I suppose? But I discovered forcing love is like forcing a cannon ball through the head of a needle. Ophelia never looked at me the way she looked at Michel de Chevin.’. Alistair threw Leliana a fond smile. ‘And I never looked at her the way I do to you.’

Stretching her arms as wide as she could, Leliana smiled back. ‘I love you this much Alistair.’

Rubbing his jaw affectionately, Alistair fell into silence as he became lost in his thoughts. ‘Fine.’ he concluded. ‘I’m escorting you to Skyhold and supporting your decision to aid in this mission. You can always count on me _Leli_, you know that?’

Leliana lifted her cup of tea to toast the man. ‘Thank you, Alistair. I mean it, thank you.’. She paused between sips to reveal a smirk. ‘And let it be known for the record I said_ I love you _first.’

‘But I kissed you first.’ quipped Alistair.

‘I wonder what else I could do first?’ pondered Leliana wickedly. ‘Maybe we’ll find out when we arrive in Skyhold? Away from prying castle eyes that are intent on keeping this courtship chaste?’

Alistair rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, Eamon is being quite painful about our courtship. It’s no coincidence that whenever we’re alone we have several watchful guards and servants lingering nearby making sure we’re not entertaining the idea of trying for any bastard children.’

‘He left me a letter outlining the rules required of a lady courting the king.’ informed Leliana dryly. ‘I’m to behave with modesty apparently. And that includes no copulation or coitus.’. The woman burst into laughter, shaking her head in amusement. ‘His words, not mine. Who calls it _coitus?’_

Alistair groaned, smacking his head playfully. ‘Ugh he calls it _coitus_, of course he does. Uncle is always using creepy words like that to describe a roll in the hay.’

‘Your uncle clearly doesn’t want us to have any fun.’ observed Leliana flatly. ‘Imagine all the fun we could have?’

Rubbing his brown hair bashfully, Alistair grinned. ‘What’s that saying again? What happens in Skyhold stays in Skyhold?’

‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’ teased Leliana.

Alistair pretended to wipe the sweat off his brow as he stood up. ‘Well in that case I’m packing my bags.’ he laughed. ‘Frostback Mountains here we come!’

****

The heavy gallop of hooves rumbled the stone foundations of the keep as the entourage of Templars rode into Caer Bronach at midday. Brilliant cheers from the residing Templars sounded from the battlements and upper levels of the fortress as the entourage dismounted; their cries of welcome filling the fortress in loud echoes.

Cullen swiftly jumped off his horse, politely lifting Rose by the waist to help her down from his large warhorse. The blue skirts of her dress billowed as her feet neatly touched the ground, and the Knight-Commander flashed her a wink before turning to a group of gregarious men that had come to greet him. One of the Templar’s approached the Commander with a roar and Cullen embraced the man in a bear hug, as if reuniting with a long lost friend. He was soon swept away in a sea of Templars, all eager to greet their Knight-Commander.

Rose watched on in silence as Arrus joined her side. He crossed his arms in amusement as the Templars began chanting a song, their booming voices lifting high into the keep.

_To battle, to battle we go!_

_A blade running red shall flow!_

_In the morning we’ll fight, _

_Until late in the night,_

_To battle, to battle we go!_

Arrus chuckled as he watched his Templars rejoice at the return of their missing Order. ‘It takes a little getting used to.’ admitted the Knight-Captain. ‘So many Templars in a fortress and with such fine morale. I bet you’ve never seen such a place in your life?’

‘All your Templars are so happy to see your Knight-Commander return?’ observed Rose fondly. ‘They must truly love him.’

‘He’s an exceptional leader.’ acknowledged Arrus. ‘We’d all lift our blades for him if he asked us.’

Her eyes lingered at the Commander in the distance. Cullen was shaking hands with several men, a smile chiselled on his wide jaw as he conversed away.

‘He’s strong and confident.’ observed Rose ‘And so very handsome too.’

‘No doubt.’ replied Arrus, concealing a smile.

Her cheeks flushed as she realised what had slipped unintentionally from her mouth. ‘Oh..I-’. Clasping her mouth with her hands in embarrassment, Rose shook her head. ‘Forgive me, that was completely-’

‘-_accurate_.’ replied Arrus, rolling his eyes. ‘Yes, Cullen’s a good looking man. All the women think so. They don’t think so much about me I’m afraid.’

‘You’re very handsome too.’ laughed Rose.

‘It’s fine, it’s fine.’ chuckled Arrus. ‘I can’t compete with my Knight-Commander in rank or beauty. I’m completely fine with that.’

Rose curiously lifted her eyes to the heights of Caer Bronach, where it’s strong stone walls scaled high. ‘Such places as this are not common in Lapin or Montsimmard.’ she confessed. ‘Perhaps we have fallen into a false sense of security over the years as few enemies dare venture into Orlais? We nobles keep beautiful estates and own extensive lands, but we do not live in fortified keeps as the Ferelden nobility seem to enjoy. This is such a secure fort? I’d have expected an overlord to reside in such a place?’

‘You’d be right in thinking that, this is no ordinary fort.’ agreed Arrus. ‘King Brandel built Caer Bronach in the year 8:26 Blessed. He erected the fortress as a safe haven for his soldiers while fighting the Orlesian invaders.’. The templar ran his eyes fondly across the courtyard. ‘There’s a lot of history in these walls. I was very excited to learn my outpost was to be here in such a fortress. Bandits had overrun it for a long time and it was Inquisition who in fact cleared the place and reclaimed it as one of their outposts. After the Inquisition, the fortress was reclaimed by King Alistair, who in turn graciously gifted it to our Templars. Knight-Commander Cullen and I have worked hard over the last years to make this fort as it is now. It is a place of pride for all of us in the Order. Knight-Vigilante Robard visited a year back and said it was the finest encampment he’d ever seen. Coming from him it’s a great compliment.’

‘Could you show me?’ inquired Rose. ‘I’d love to see more of it.’

Arrus extended a warm hand towards the stairs leading to the upper levels. ‘It would be my pleasure. Follow me.’

****

Recounting the events of Skyhold to the Templars turned out to be a rather lacklustre way to spend his first hour back at Caer Bronach. As Cullen addressed each issue with patience, he soon discovered the consensus was still the same_. No one wanted to work alongside with a group of maleficars. _Despite Cullen’s reassurances that things were running smooth enough, there was a general air of suspicion coming from his Templars. No one trusted the mages and no one wanted desired to go up to the Frostback Mountains to stand back and permit the maleficars to cast their forbidden magic. Managing their uncertainties came with a stern word from the Knight-Commander that they were under orders from the Chantry. _Orders were orders_.

As his Templars retired for their midday meal in the mess hall in the keep, Cullen retreated to the valley outside Caer Bronach where the large white training tents resided. On account of the unsavoury scene he had witnessed in Ophelia’s chambers that morning he had subsequently lost his appetite and now only hungered for steel. As a result the Commander brought his sword and shield to practice on the training targets in the field.

Striking, stabbing and slashing with precise blows, the templar became lost in his assault. To his irritation, everything reminded him of Ophelia and Michel. It was here outside the red tent in the field that Cullen had stolen a kiss from her just after they had reunited. And for some reason the light straw stuffed in the target reminded him of Michel’s hair as he lunged forward with unforgiving blows. So focused was Cullen on assaulting his target he was none the wiser that his Knight-Captain had ventured on to the field and had been watching by the Commander’s red tent for quite some while.

After witnessing his Knight-Commander slash the hay with far too much enthusiasm and for far too long, Arrus finally approached his Knight-Commander and saluted to his attention.

‘Knight-Commander.’

Cullen lowered his sword and wiped the sweat of his brow as he turned to the templar. ‘Yes Arrus, what is it?’

‘I came to see if you’d be taking Lady de Chevin into Crestwood this afternoon?' inquired Arrus. Lifting his gauntleted hand, the templar pointed back to the direction of the keep. 'She’s eating lunch at present but asked after you? I believe you mentioned something about taking her to the tailor shop?’

Grunting at the comment, Cullen turned back at the target. Swinging his short sword, he slashed the hay before ramming his hilt to the middle of the target.

‘Of course if you’re too busy I can easily take her myself?’ offered Arrus uncertainly.

Arrus frowned as Cullen ignored his suggestion and continued training. So consumed was the Knight-Commander in his task of slashing the hay target that he appeared entirely deaf to the words that came out of his Knight-Captain’s mouth.

Ramming his shield hard against a wooden post, it shuddered on the impact of Cullen’s force.

‘She’s a good woman, Arrus.’ observed the Knight-Commander gruffly. ‘Far too good for the likes of him.’

In confusion, the Knight-Captain hesitated. ‘Uh...who’s a good woman?’

‘Rose.’ replied Cullen.

‘Ah yes,’ agreed Arrus ‘in the short space of time I’ve known Lady Rose I’ve grown quite fond of her.’

‘She’s too good for that idiot chevalier.’ muttered Cullen, ramming his shield once more. ‘You don’t throw away a woman like that for a quick dalliance between the sheets. _Yet he’s done it again._’. Chuckling bitterly, the Knight-Commander shook his head. ‘To my everlasting shame I’m once again hoodwinked by that chevalier.’

‘Who’s done what now?’ baffled Arrus. He shook his head in bewilderment, as if Cullen spoke to him in another language. ‘Who are we talking about?’

‘_Ser Michel._’ snapped Cullen. ‘Who the fuck else?!’

With cautious steps Arrus drew closer to the Commander, picking up a wooden sword lying beside the target. He joined in, taking a swing at the hay and landing a neat blow square in the middle of the painted red circle.

‘Tell me if it’s none of my business, _but what exactly has Ser Michel done?_’ asked Arrus curiously, slashing the target several times. ‘You seem vexed by something?’

Striking the target, Cullen began to alternate between stabs and slashes. ‘Ser Michel has been sleeping with a senior enchanter up in Skyhold. I’d the misfortune of discovering the pair in bed this morning. It’s something you don’t forget so easily.’

His sword paused in mid-air as Arrus lifted his white brows in surprise. ‘Senior Enchanter? Which one?’

The Commander thrust his sword angrily. ‘Ophelia Trevelyan, of course! I didn’t have the heart to tell Lady de Chevin, but neither did I have the heart to leave her at Skyhold to go about her day _while that_ was going on behind her back.’

‘Which is why you arranged this garrison switchover so suddenly.’ concluded Arrus, finally understanding his Commander’s rash actions to pull his Templars from Skyhold on no notice. ‘To spare her discovering the truth? Ah it makes sense now. Here I was thinking you craved a return to the keep.’

The Knight-Captain frowned as he watched his Knight-Commander hack away at the target with determination.

‘Was I wrong to do so?’ questioned Cullen abruptly.

‘Such things are no doubt painful but she ought to know.’ observed Arrus delicately. ‘It’s a private matter between husband and wife. I very much like Lady Rose, but at the end of the day she is Ser Michel’s wife. We cannot…uh..’

‘-keep her as a pet in Caer Bronach?’ interject Cullen dryly.

Arrus threw an amused smile. ‘No, we cannot. As much as I’d welcome her to stay here you know it’s not possible? Or appropriate? We cannot keep a married lady here away from her husband. It’s not in her best interests.’

‘Is fucking another woman behind her back in her best interests?!’ replied Cullen angrily, ramming the target viciously with his shield. ‘She offers her heart time and time again. _And for what?_ So Michel can cat around behind her back? Do her feelings mean _nothing_ at all? After all the sacrifices she’s made, does it all count for nothing? ’

The Knight-Captain remained quiet as Cullen continued his onslaught on the splintered target in the field. His blue eyes lifted to the skies, analysing the situation with silent prayer to his Maker to give him counsel. With all the care that a cautious soldier may carry when venturing into dark woods, Arrus teetered around the question before finally succumbing.

‘You care for Rose, don’t you?’ acknowledged Arrus quietly.

‘_What!?’ _barked Cullen.

The templar raised his hands carefully as Cullen turned his head aggressively.

‘I mean no disrespect.’ apologised Arrus ‘It’s just I noticed how well you and her ladyship were getting along on the road this morning. And the other day you spoke for hours in the privacy of your tent? She’s a kind and beautiful woman. These things happen sometimes, it’s not so unusual.’

Cullen threw down his sword and shield on the grass in defeat, finally giving his full attention to his Knight-Captain. ‘She’s a stranger, Arrus, I hardly know her. But I do know she’s a good Andrastian woman who deserves a whole lot better than the man she’s married to. Michel drags her to Skyhold and then fucks another woman behind her back? _Can you imagine?_ ’

‘Poor Lady de Chevin.’ commiserated Arrus, nodding in agreement. ‘We managed to rally her spirits in allowing her to aid us. Now I fear it will be all for none.’

‘No.’ replied Cullen sharply. ‘Not if I can help it. We’re going to prolong our stay here and we’re going to make her realise there’s more to life than being married to fucking Michel de Chevin. I want you to prepare our guest quarters with as much charm as those weathered soldier’s hands can muster.’

‘Of course.’ replied Arrus. ‘Charm isn’t my greatest attribute, especially when it comes to decorating a lady’s quarters, but I shall do my best to arrange for it to be done.’

‘Take her into Crestwood today and get her busy ordering supplies in the tailor shop. Get her to work and make sure she stays busy. And relevant.’ instructed Cullen. ‘Introduce her to the Templars here and make her feel welcomed. Tell her I’m too busy to accompany her. It’s no a lie, I’m swamped with work here. But in a few hours stress to her that it would be far easier if we could stay on for a few more days. She’s expecting us to return to the keep tonight.’

‘Tonight!?’ remarked Arrus in surprise. ‘After such a ride to just turn around and go back to Skyhold?’

‘She wouldn’t have agreed to come along if she believed we intended to stay for a several days.’ explained Cullen. ‘I said what was necessary. That is all, you’re dismissed.’

Arrus frowned, unwilling to let the matter slide. ‘Knight-Commander, may I speak for a moment just as a friend?’

‘What is it?’

‘I’ve known you for several years now.’ acknowledged Arrus. ‘You and I share a lot in common. We have dedicated our lives to the Order and in recent years we’ve toiled away here at Crestwood. And perhaps neglected our personal needs along the way? Such as taking a wife. There’s times when I regret not having a woman I can share my life with.’

‘A soldier’s life never makes for good marriages.’ dismissed Cullen.

Arrus shrugged. ‘Many of our Templars have been lucky? For my part I’m single because I never met the right one. But a man has his needs. I’m not ashamed to admit I visit the bathhouses often in Crestwood and it’s not to launder my clothes or wash my hair.’. The templar clicked his fingers at Cullen. ‘But you’re different. You’re not to the type to entertain wenches. I’ve never seen you down at _The Merry Fox _hoping to strike up some female company. And I know you’re too professional to ever get close to another templar working under you. But then I saw the way you and Lady Rose have warmed to each other. _It feels intimate._ So I can only conclude there is something stronger here.’

Cullen rubbed his shoulder achingly as the topic of conversation caused his muscles to tense up. ‘Arrus you know I’ve been in a relationship before with our former Divine Victoria. It didn’t turn out all that well for me. In fact it turned me off the idea of getting close to another woman ever again!’

‘I will take a wild guess and say Rose is a lot different to Divine Victoria?’ observed Arrus diplomatically.

Chuckling bitterly, Cullen nodded. ‘I dare say she is.’

‘Some relationships are destined to fail.’ acknowledged Arrus. ‘Perhaps there is a silver lining here? Perhaps Michel’s actions, although terrible, are for the best where you and Rose are concerned?’

‘There’s nothing going on between us.’ replied Cullen impatiently.

Arrus appeared unconvinced. ‘She’s a devote supporter of our Order, _which let’s face it_ _is your ideal woma_n. She appears very fond of you. In fact she let slip before how handsome she thinks you are.’

‘Rose said that about me?’ remarked Cullen in surprise.

‘Yes.’ implored Arrus. ‘She couldn’t keep her eyes off you back in the keep when we arrived. And are you telling me you haven’t noticed how striking she is?’

Laughing at his Knight-Captain’s persistence, Cullen turned back to pick up his sword and shield. ‘Yes okay Arrus, Rose is a fine woman with apple red lips and comely hips.’

The templar chuckled. ‘I hardly noticed, my attention was distracted by her welcoming cleavage and round arse.’

Rolling his eyes, Cullen began hitting the target once more. ‘Like I said Arrus, she’s married.’

‘All I’m saying is there appears to be something between you both.’ pointed out Arrus. ‘And you say Michel de Chevin is sleeping with another woman? So wouldn't the logical thing to do now is to see where this could lead with Rose?’

‘Arrus!’ groaned Cullen.

The Knight-Captain laughed, shaking his head in confusion. ‘What? Where’s the harm if the marriage is done for? You get Rose and Michel gets Ophelia. Rose gets to stay and help the Templars. And you get some much needed female company. Everyone wins. Well, except for me. I’ll just end up paying for another wench again.’

Pointing his sword to the direction of the keep, Cullen chuckled. ‘Maker strike me down if I ever come to you for relationship advice. Now get back to work Knight-Captain, and keep this between ourselves.’

Walking backwards with playful raised hands, Arrus departed once more. ‘Think on it.’ he called out, his voice echoing across the field. ‘I know what I would do if I were in your shoes.’

****

Banner’s baring the flagship of the Chantry flew proudly as the entourage galloped into Skyhold that afternoon. Upon a white horse rode Knight-Vigilante Robard and with him twelve Templars in heavy plate mail. Further behind rode a gold carriage that only the Divine travelled in and behind it, twenty armoured Chantry guardians on destrier war horses rode.

The party arrived to an empty courtyard, with several mages curiously watching from up high on the battlements. It was evident no one had been expecting the Divine and Knight-Vigilante.

As the doors of the carriage were opened by attending footmen, out stepped the Divine in her traditional white robes. With her usual short cropped brown hair and permanent crease on her brow, Cassandra scouted the courtyard with an air of displeasure.

‘So I find myself here once more.’ Cassandra observed stiffly. ‘To offer counsel to the Inquisition feels like a distant dream. Yet now my feet are planted on the cold stone I recall it quite vividly and am reminded it was nothing more than a distant nightmare.’

Dismounting from his horse, Knight-Vigilante Robard joined the Divine’s side. The elderly man stretched his aching arms and threw an equally displeased look about the keep.

‘It has the stench of mages.’ acknowledged Robard with displeasure. ‘This place feels like a circle tower that has been overrun with too many cockroaches.’

Breathing out heavily, the Divine stepped forward. ‘You have no idea Robard. Let’s go and find the leaders of this rabble. Something tells me a welcoming reception is not coming to greet us.’


	158. Retribution

Thunder rumbled in the distance as the dark clouds of a storm from the east slowly approached. The cold air rushed fiercely across the upper platform of the keep as Arrus escorted Rose to Cullen’s office that evening. Light rain hit their faces as they knocked at his door urgently, hoping to escape the wet wind lashing their bodies.

The pair had spent the afternoon in Crestwood and Arrus had taken the opportunity to show off his township to the lady. They spent many hours perusing the goods in the tailor shop and departed with a large order that left the tailor beaming. After explaining that his Knight-Commander found himself swamped with work, Arrus had even managed to convince Rose to stay on overnight at Caer Bronach rather than returning to Skyhold as previously been planned. She appeared a little uncertain at the prospect of staying longer, yet Arrus soon rallied her spirits with jovial tales of his former days in Crestwood with Knight-Commander Cullen and had her laughing all the way to the keep. Rose determined their decision to stay longer was a good one when the weather picked up, and by the time they’d reached Caer Bronach her ladyship spoke of nothing else than being tucked in her bed by a warm fire in the guest quarters.

_Tap, tap, tap…tap, tap, tap_

With a merry, albeit urgent knock on the door, the pair waited at Cullen’s study with chattering teeth.

‘He’s always lost in his work.’ grinned the templar, rolling his eyes as if Cullen often ignored his knocks. ‘If I had to guess the Knight-Commander is reading a document and hasn’t even heard me.’

‘Perhaps we should leave him if he’s busy?’ suggested Rose, concealing her face from the wind blowing. ‘There’s no need to disturb him. And if we stay here any longer I fear we’ll be swept away to Lake Calenhad!’

_Knock…knock…knock.._

Arrus shook his head warmly as he knocked a little more loudly. ‘No, I’m sure he wishes to see you. He was very disheartened not to take you into Crestwood this afternoon.’

Laughing at the comment, Rose refused to believe the man. ‘To shop at the tailor’s for three hours? I think Cullen sent you on purpose!’

The templar paused with a frown. ‘You’re right, I’ve been played haven’t I?’

‘Positively so!’ laughed Rose.

A muffled _enter_ sounded behind the door, and the pair eagerly entered the study. As Arrus had predicted, Cullen was lost in his work as they approached his desk. He raised his sandy head as he noticed the pair before him, and threw a sharp nod before commencing the distinguished strokes of his pen on a letter before him.

‘So how was Crestwood?’ inquired Cullen. He nudged his head playfully to his Knight-Captain. ‘Did Arrus chew your ear off about the township? He’s got a reputation for doing that whenever an unwitting visitor wanders into Crestwood. I probably should have warned you? But not to worry, you’re still here in one piece. So all is well!’

Rose grinned, casting her mischievous green eyes to the templar beside her. ‘He did indeed but the company was most welcome. Arrus is the finest tour guide to ever grace Thedas I believe?’

Arrus rolled his hand playfully. ‘Between the history of Crestwood and advice about fishing, the hours flew by.’

‘More like dragged by.’ teased Rose.

The pair chuckled heartily as the Knight-Commander watched on in amusement.

‘So this is what I’m paying you both for?’ mused Cullen. ‘While I’m buried under six feet of paperwork you lot make merry in the town?’

‘We’ve had a very productive afternoon.’ protested Arrus indignantly. A curl on his lip grew as he cast his blue eyes to Rose. ‘For three hours I stood there while her ladyship ordered every fabric and needle under the sun. A man has his limits and I’m certain mine was set at ten minutes in that horrid shop.’

Rose slapped the templar’s arm playfully. ‘Hush. I know you’d rather have been playing in the armoury. But when you come to me with a ripped shirt you’ll be thanking me! Better it be stitched than thrown in the fires.’

‘That reminds me, I must go speak to Frik about the furnace.’ muttered Arrus. ‘He’s had issues with it and refuses to work until it’s seen to. You’ll have to excuse me.’. Playfully he lifted Rose’s hand and bowed. ‘M’lady it has been a pleasure.’

Cullen rolled his eyes. ‘Get going while I speak to Lady Rose for a moment. We’ll join you for dinner in the mess hall soon.’

With a smile and a salute, Arrus departed. As the door closed behind him the room grew silent and a slight shift in the energy caused the pair to remain quiet. Rose turned back to the Commander, her amused face fading as she beheld the serious templar sitting behind his desk.

‘My apologies for not being able to take you to the tailor today.’ remarked Cullen. He flung a tired hand to the mountain of papers on his desk. ‘This has all I’ve been entertaining for the last few hours.’

Cullen rose from his seat and drew a chair opposite his desk. With a smile he extended his hand.

‘Please, have a seat.’

‘I don’t wish to disturb you if you’re busy?’ observed Rose uncertainly. Looking about the room, she smiled at the scripture that hung above the stone fireplace. ‘_There was no word_;’ she read ‘_For heaven or for earth; For sea or sky; All that existed was silence; Then the Voice of the Maker rang out; The first Word; And His Word became all that might be – Threnodies 5:1-8_.’

Cullen rubbed his jaw as he listened on. ‘It’s one of my favourite passages.’ he confessed as Rose turned back to him with a smile. ‘My sister made that for me when I first came here. As gifts go, I’ve never had a better one.’

‘Is your sister in the Order also?’ asked Rose.

The templar chuckled. ‘No, Mia always thought I was mad for joining.’. Returning to his desk, he eased back into his chair. ‘I wish to speak to you of something that’s been weighing on my mind all day. It’s not good news I’m afraid.’

Rose sat down tentatively, a frown forming on her face. ‘You were so quiet on the last hours of the trip here.’ she observed. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you. I know you have issues with my husband. It was insensitive of me to say you and Michel were alike. I overstepped my mark and I’m sorry Cullen.’

Lifting his amber eyes to her in surprise, the Commander shook his head. ‘_No_.’ he replied gently ‘I reacted to your words in anger but it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t to know.’. Running his hand along the edge of the desk, the templar appeared unwilling to say what was on his mind.

‘What did you wish to speak to me about?’ encouraged Rose.

Clenching his strong jaw, the templar nodded. ‘Something happened this morning and I know I should tell you about it but I….._can’t_.’. Running an agitated hand through his sandy locks of hair, he shook his head. ‘I’ve sent good men and women out into battle. My own hands have spilled more blood to last me a hundred lifetimes. And yet now in this room I can’t even bring myself to say what needs to be said.’

Rose drew her chair closer to the desk, her voice lowering. ‘You know whatever you say will stay between us.’ she reassured. ‘There is nothing you can’t tell me Cullen.’

‘On this subject, I’d implore you to please don’t shoot the messenger.’ muttered Cullen. ‘I bring no good tidings. In fact, the subject is quite dismal.’

Placing her elegant hand on the desk, it revealed a large diamond and gold wedding band. The templar noticed it with a frown as Rose smiled in encouragement.

‘Say what you must, I promise to listen and not to shoot.’

‘Rose, I brought you here to Caer Bronach this morning to protect you.’ Cullen confessed. ‘Perhaps in the vain hope I could protect you from something I was unable to be spared? It’s something I’ve been struggling to come to terms with ever since I found out.’

‘Tell me.’ implored the lady, throwing a gentle smile to the templar. ‘I can see you are troubled with this burden. Whatever it is we can deal with it together.’

The Commander appeared unwilling to reveal the news as his hands fiddled with the papers before him. ‘You're a good woman. I cannot bear watching this unfold again, let alone having to witness you go through it all as well. It sickens me to be in this position.’

‘This involves my husband, doesn’t it?’ guessed Rose. She shifted in irritation, sweeping her blue skirts with sharp brushes of her hand. ‘Of course it does. Come on then, out with it. What have you to tell me of Michel?’

The templar nodded solemnly in reply. ‘This morning, before sunrise, I went to speak with Ophelia.’ informed Cullen darkly. ‘It was a personal matter that I did not wish to address with her during working hours.’. His amber eyes caught Rose’s green, drawing her to his pained words. ‘I entered her chambers unannounced and came across…_Ophelia and your husband in bed together._’

Rose’s green eyes darted away, looking to the ground in shock. Her voice cracked as the feathery words spilled out.

_‘You must be mistaken.’_

‘There is no mistake.’ reassured Cullen softly. ‘They were asleep together in Ophelia’s bed. Maker you have no idea how furious I was. I didn’t know what to do? I had to take you from that keep and away from them.’

‘Why would he do this to me?’ Rose asked coldly, her eyes glistening with moisture. ‘Why her?’

‘It’s what they do.’ muttered Cullen. He placed a gentle hand on his desk, reaching out to Rose’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry my warning came too late. I had hoped to spare you of what I believed would have happened again had you not known about Ophelia and Michel’s history. It was the only reason I told you in the first place. To prevent this from occurring.’

Falling like raindrops, Rose’s tears spilled as she looked miserably to the ground.

‘Please don’t cry.’ consoled Cullen, his amber eyes sadly falling onto the grieving woman.

‘Michel looked me in the eye and swore that he did not care for her.’ observed Rose quietly. ‘He swore he loved me. _Only me._ Last night I was angry that he had kept so many secrets from me. He reassured me that his intentions good but I told him to find other lodgings. So this is where he went?’

Understanding her sentiments, Cullen sighed heavily. ‘I’m so sorry. Given my own history with Ophelia, I know how you feel. The betrayal. That gnawing rejection that eats away at you. You start to question your own worth. Am I not good enough? Am I not worthy? It’s a dark path to wander down Rose, I would steer you away from it if possible.’

She lifted her hand to her cheek and wiped away her tears before reaching across the desk and placing her hand on Cullen’s, nodding in appreciation.

‘No, I cry for my foolishness rather than for Michel’s rejection of me.’ she informed bitterly. ‘I saw this coming well before my marriage had even begun.’

‘You suspected Michel was cheating on you before your marriage?’ remarked Cullen in surprise.

The lady brushed her elegant hand at the Commander. ‘There were rumours circling in Orlais of Michel’s first marriage to Lady Rochelle de Chevin.’. Rose rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘He never spoke to me of her either. _But I knew all about it._ My mother told me all that she had learned from her neighbour in Montsimmard who happened to know the family. Michel had cheated on his wife with her own sister, Lady Helena Aberdenne. For years apparently? One day Lady Rochelle de Chevin found out about their affair. Unable to deal with Michel’s betrayal she threw herself off the balcony at their home.’. Rose shook her head in disbelief. ‘Michel’s own wife ended up killing herself because of his infidelity. After that Helena fell into her own grief and could not live with her own guilt and the part she had played in causing her sister’s death. Helena drank poison and killed herself.’. Rose shook her head angrily, her voice growing colder. ‘And then Helena’s husband, Lord Clotaire Dreaux, ended his life soon after. He was struck by grief at the loss of his wife.’

Cullen shook his head in disgust. ‘Yes, I learnt too of that some years ago.’ he affirmed. ‘Michel has a knack for keeping dirty secrets, and committing adultery.’. A crease formed on Cullen’s brow as a sudden question weighed heavily on him. ‘Forgive me for being so blunt but; knowing all this why did you marry Michel? Why marry a man that clearly can’t treat marriage with the respect it deserves?’

‘You don’t understand the Orlesian practices of matrimony.’ muttered Rose. Her cynical pursed lips were all the answer Cullen needed. 'We nobles do not enjoy the luxury of choosing who we marry. Our unions are built on finances and pure lineage, and all this is arranged by our parents. It was my father who _strongly encouraged_ my courtship with Michel.’

Cullen frowned. ‘Strongly encouraged, _or forced?_ Are you saying you were forced into marrying Michel?’

Rose flicked away the question with her elegant fingers. ‘Yes, but I loved him and welcomed the arrangement. I thanked the Maker for such fortune, for had I disliked Michel I still would have been forced to marry him. There are many unhappy marriages in Orlais between the nobility, one must thank their lucky stars if you end up with a husband that doesn’t stink of cigars and have the body of an old potato sack. A son from a noble family perhaps may have more say in his choice of bride, but a daughter has little influence. I knew whatever my father decided would be the final say. And my father was determined to bring Comte de Chalons into the family. He holds a lot of military power and influence in Orlais.’

‘And so your father married you off to Comte de Chalon’s nephew to secure that family tie?’ scoffed the templar.

Her hand lifted delicately to her heart. ‘It was a duty I was happy to perform. That chevalier won my heart the first time he smiled at me. I remember being so flattered that Ser Michel de Chevin took a fancy to me. Former Champion to Empress Celene and now a chevalier in Emperor Gaspard’s personal guard. He was a noble from a fine family and was rich and gorgeous. He could have had any woman he wanted in Orlais. I was so relieved his uncle and my father secured our relationship. We fell in love and to Michel’s credit there were some secrets he shared with me. Such as his elven bloodline? However, when Michel revealed to me that he was in fact half-elf I was faced with an impossible situation. If my father learned of it he would have forbade me to marry Michel. Such a thing would have been viewed as muddying our lineage. And had the truth been known both Michel and Comte de Chalons would have been disgraced. So I kept his dirty secret so I could wed the man.’. Rose lifted a pained hand to her brow as she recalled those previous days. ‘Before my marriage with Michel my mother spoke to me in great detail of what it is to be a wife. It is not unusual for Lords to have their mistresses. Affairs are quite common. That is why in Orlais so many wives have poodles gifted by their husbands, to keep them entertained while the men are away at night.’

Cullen scoffed. ‘Utter nonsense.’

‘It is an unspoken fact.’ reassured Rose curtly, rolling her eyes. ‘I was prepared at some stage for Michel to take a mistress, especially since his first marriage had played out in such a way. But to entertain such affairs so early in one’s marriage? We’ve not been wed for five months and already Michel is sleeping with this woman? And for how long has this been going on for?’

The templar threw a cynical look to the woman. ‘Did they ever stop? For all we know Michel and Ophelia have been in a relationship this entire time.’

‘_Impossible_.’ frowned Rose. ‘He was heartbroken when I met him. He did not wish to speak of Ophelia because of everything that had happened. I know they were never in contact. Unlike Lady Rochelle, I was willing to read all Michel’s letters and search all the pockets of his jackets from the first day we were married. There was nothing to suggest he was seeing anyone.’. Slumping into her chair, the woman sighed. ‘Have I been a terrible wife? Or a stupid one to believe he would be different with me? Did I disappoint him somehow?’

‘You couldn’t disappoint anyone if you tried.’ refuted Cullen. ‘No, it’s them Rose. The fault lies with them, not you.’

‘What a fool I have been? To think he would change for me. I do not know what I shall say to him when I return to the keep.’ wept Rose, bursting into tears. Her blonde hair fell across her face as she sobbed into her hands. ‘I’m a smart woman; I’m not so naïve as I pretend to be in order to play the role of a perfect lady. I knew this day was coming. I just didn’t think it would be now.’

‘Maker, I’m so sorry Rose.’ remarked Cullen sadly. ‘You deserve so much better. We both do.’

Her sad eyes lifted to his, blinking tears away as she silently assessed his words. ‘You were still in love with Ophelia, weren’t you?’ she observed quietly. ‘That is why you felt the need to protect me?’

Clenching his jaw, Cullen nodded stiffly. ‘Like a fool I believed Ophelia still loved me.’. Cullen thrust his hand out in anger, planting a firm finger on the desk. ‘Last night she professed her love to me in my chambers. And this morning she’s in bed with your husband. So yes…I am deceived just as you are.’

‘Such betrayal?’ observed Rose miserably. ‘We both have been cruelly cast aside by our partners. What’s to be done about it? Shall we wait around until they tire of each other? Would it feel better to win them back only when their boredom allows us to be the victor once more?’

The Knight-Commander shook his head solemnly. ‘No, that is not a path I’m willing to take ever again.’. The templar threw the lady a sympathetic look. ‘It’s easier for me to step away from this. But you are married? What are you going to do?’

‘For one, I don’t want to hear his excuses.’ informed Rose bitterly. ‘I don’t want to stand there before him again while he lies to me about her. I’ve already witnessed his obvious displays of lavishing gifts for her and her mages. It seems to have worked? Forgive me Cullen, but I do not wish to see my husband lavish attention on his mistress before my very eyes.’

‘Then don’t return to Skyhold, not yet.’ implored Cullen, rising from his chair. He walked over to the women and drew her from her seat with an encouraging hand. ‘As Knight-Commander of Caer Bronach, I invite you to be my guest here. You have guest quarters in the keep to stay as long as you wish. And Maker knows I have enough work to keep me here for days. Even weeks? I’d be here for you. That includes if you needed to talk this through and make a decision on what to do when we return to Skyhold. _Think on it._ Let’s go and have some dinner and just think on it.’

The woman swept her hand to dismiss his suggestion. ‘You are an important man who doesn’t need to deal with me or my tears.’

Cullen shrugged playfully. ‘You wouldn’t see me protesting.’

He ran a gentle thumb across her porcelain cheek, wiping a tear that lingered. Rose looked up in surprise as Cullen threw her a smile.

‘He doesn’t deserve your tears.’ whispered Cullen. ‘I hope you see that one day?’

‘You’re…_very kind_.’ she acknowledged softly. Contemplating the offer, Rose finally agreed. ‘Yes, I’d like to stay here with you.’

Reaching her hand up, she clasped Cullen’s rugged jaw affectionately. His breath caught in his chest as her skin touched his. The pair stared in silent, lost in each other’s eyes.

‘You should stay.’ replied Cullen in a low voice.

‘I’d like that.’ replied Rose.

The Commander appeared amused. ‘_You said that already_.’

‘Forgive my Orlesian directness.’ apologised Rose, looking away from Cullen’s piercing gaze. ‘As wrong as it is, there’s a part of me that wants retribution and a part of me that selfishly praises Michel’s inevitable deceit.’

The Commander remained steadfast, silently looking down at the woman. ‘How’s that?’ he frowned. ‘Why would you praise his deceit?’

Her green eyes flashed backed to the templar. ‘It means I can stay here with you without guilt. We’re all tempted by sin, Cullen. You said it yourself; it’s a daily battle. To honour a marriage and turn away from sin is easy when your husband is loyal. When he is not, _another door entirely opens_.’

The templar swallowed hard, revealing a bulge in his jaw. ‘And where does that door lead to exactly?’ he asked.

Placing a delicate finger on Cullen’s bottom lip, Rose smiled. ‘Here.’

‘On my mouth?’ mused Cullen. ‘That’s an interesting destination?’

‘Can I kiss you?’ asked Rose abruptly, catching her companion by surprise. ‘Not because either of us can profess our undying love. That is foolish talk. But because I am angry and my pride is wounded and I wish to comfort myself in that which my husband takes pleasure.’

Cullen lifted his brows in surprise. ‘You want to get revenge…_by kissing me?_’

‘’Where Michel is concerned I couldn’t think of a more worthy person to bestow a kiss.’ observed Rose dryly.

Amused by the proposition, Cullen rested back against his desk as he crossed his arms and eyed up the woman before him. ‘A kiss for revenge then? To teach Michel a lesson? Do you really think kissing me will make one jot of difference to Michel and Ophelia?’

‘The real question is; _do you think a kiss would be sufficient revenge?_’ asked Rose cynically. ‘Was my husband in Ophelia’s bed offering her just one kiss?’

‘I dare say there was a little bit more going on.’ chuckled Cullen bitterly. ‘You don’t remove all your armour for one kiss now, do you?’

Her green eyes burned with desire as she stood before Cullen. ‘Then show me what will be sufficient.’ she urged, placing her hands on his plated arms. ‘Do to me what my husband does to Ophelia.’

‘Rose, don’t act impulsively out of anger.’ dismissed Cullen, turning away from the woman. ‘It’s driven by emotion. Nothing good comes of it.’

‘It will hurt Michel greatly, and it will please me…_greatly_.’ quipped Rose darkly.

Curiously the templar turned back to the woman. Cullen’s eyes locked onto Rose’s intense gaze. She refused to look away as she ran her hands across his armoured chest. The Templar’s beating heart throbbed hard as he battled with his internal struggle of what was right and wrong.

Cullen reached for her, clasping her white cheek in his rough palm. Unable to resist the woman’s silent desire, Cullen’s mouth swiftly crushed on hers with an insatiable kiss.

His hands swept strongly into her golden curls as he pulled her soft feminine body against his hard armoured frame. A moan escaped her mouth as he felt her plump lips press firmly on his own. There were no words the pair betrayed, yet their unspoken hunger for each other screamed with desire. His unshaven cheek brushed against her face as his hungry lips kissed her cheeks, forehead and mouth, eager to savour every part of her.

‘It won’t break them up.’ warned Cullen, drawing her head away from their kiss with his large hands clutching her loose hair. ‘Michel and Ophelia won’t be swayed by this. You won’t get your husband back, you realise this?’

‘When Michel took Ophelia to that garden and made love to her, did you never wish that one day he was dealt the same hand?’ retorted Rose. ‘You think this won’t make a difference? It will. He’ll finally know what it feels like.’

Wrapping her arms around Cullen’s neck, she embraced the templar passionately.

‘I refuse to live out my days the unloved married shrew.’ whispered Rose vehemently. ‘My passion is equal to Michel’s and if he does not want it then I am free to give to whoever I choose. I choose you, Cullen. Will you choose me?’

Cullen’s ravenous mouth fell back to her’s, affirming her question in a heated kiss.

‘Let’s lock the door and allow us the retribution we deserve.’ growled Cullen to her ear. 

His sandy brow raised suggestively as Rose nodded in delight. As he turned to lock his study door, she admired the man’s physique from behind.

‘I was warned by my mother before I left that you Ferelden’s are barbarians?’ laughed the Orlesian. Who would have thought I'd get to find out whether that extends to the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order?’

With a click the door locked and Cullen drew a finger to his lips as he returned to Rose’s side. ‘I’m no chevalier Rose.’ warned Cullen. ‘You won’t get courtly love here.’

An entertained curl grew on her lip. ‘I asked for retribution, not to be read the chivalric codes of conduct.’

Cullen rubbed his jaw curiously, his amber eyes running up and down the women. His hand fell to her long tresses and ran around a loose blonde curl around his large finger. ‘You enjoy being fucked, do you?’ he smouldered. ‘A lady such as you? A pretty little porcelain doll teasing me to play?’ 

Noticing the Commander’s interest in touching her locks, her hands lifted to her hair where she began to unpin her neat blonde curls. They fell heavily down her back as she released a mass of golden locks. ‘I’m Orlesian silly, we love to fuck. And I appreciate a good looking man when I see one.’

‘I suppose I should be flattered?’ mused Cullen. The Commander narrowed his eyes in amused suspicion. ‘You know, you’re quite different behind closed doors!’ he confessed, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘What happened to the quiet little Orlesian bird I nestled all the way from Skyhold?’

Pointing a long finger at the templar, Rose echoed the templar. ‘You’re also quite different when the doors are locked?’. Rose shook her finger at the templar playfully. ‘We all wear a mask, Cullen. Only few get to see our true self. And thanks to Michel, he’s ripped mine off. But if you wish to see mine off you’re going to have to take yours off as well.’

‘Is that some terribly clichéd request to get me to strip buck naked?’ laughed the Commander. He raised his hands playfully in defence. ‘I’ll do it, I confess I’m scared as to what you’ll do if I refuse.’

Tapping the cuirass with her fingernail, Rose appeared quite pleased. ‘Show me all the pieces of the uniform you wear. One by one. I want to see all the Knight-Commander’s trappings. My husband took his armour off for Ophelia. _Now you’re going to take off yours for me.’_

Cullen’s fingers hesitated mid-air, as if contemplating whether this was all one big joke. Shaking his sandy head in amused disbelief the templar finally succumbed and began to unbuckle the sides of his breast plate.

‘Well since you're so interested, this is a Knight-Commander’s cuirass.’ informed Cullen with an entertained curl on his lip. Lifting the armour over his head, Cullen placed it on his desk. ‘Made of steel, it protects both the back and front. You’ll notice how it falls to my belly button to ensure the wearer has a proper range of movement. Falling to the midriff is an accurate length for a cuirass. Don’t be fooled by the portraits, no doubt misconstrued by flippant royal painters who insist on depicting the cuirass to fall to the hips in order to make their subjects look more distinguished. Their garish armoured elegance would pay a heavy price in battle when they realised one cannot move in armour casing your waist.’. The templar knocked the armour with his knuckle. ‘It’s heavy but as I say to my men; _better a burden than a slit gullet.’_

‘It’s not like Jean Luc’s.’ observed Rose, pointing to the breast. ‘He had a down turned sword with flames etched on his plate.’

‘Correct.’ acknowledged Cullen. ‘That is the standard templar uniform. The position of Knight-Commander affords me the privilege of having three swords crossed before a shield on my breastplate. You’ll find Arrus has two swords, being Knight-Captain.’

‘You see? I’m learning so much already.’ exclaimed Rose playfully. She patted her bottom lip as she noticed Cullen unwrapping the red sash from around his waist. ‘And that scarf there, why do the Templars wear it?’

‘Red symbolises blood.’ explained Cullen. ‘And we are the guardians of the mages phylacteries. The blood guardians of the Maker’s fallen. There is a lot of symbolism in our order. Such is the way of the Chantry.’

‘And so you wrap this sash around your waist as a reminder of your ultimate duty?’ acknowledged Rose.

With a wide smile Cullen winked at her. ‘A quick learner.’

Rose rolled her eyes and Cullen laughed.

‘These are your standard steel vambraces.’ continued Cullen, lifting his arm to present the armour. ‘It’s essential to protect one’s arms in battle, especially when there’s a blade nearby. _Essential for when one draws a bow_.’

‘Which I cannot do.’ pointed out Rose playfully.

‘I’ll make a templar out of you yet.’ teased Cullen.

With a heavy clang he threw the vambraces on the table beside his cuirass.

Cullen flashed Rose a grin as he placed his foot on the chair and began to unbuckle his leg armour. ‘Now I know you’re thrilled with my uniform but please try to contain yourself a little longer. These are plate chausses. They protect the legs with plates of steel._ Not recommended to be worn when bathing in an Orlesian beach.’_

The Orlesian lady’s hand lifted to her mouth as she laughed. ‘A fine piece of advice!’

Cullen grinned as he stepped out of his leg armour and placed the heavy trappings beside the desk. ‘And underneath, I wear mail chausses.’ he explained. ‘They’re quilted to protect the legs. Like a well wrapped gift. And underneath them, as you can see, I wear a plain black hose instead of braies. I suspect it’s far from what you Orlesians would consider fashionable, but then again I don’t think you’d find even me wearing this out and about the town. Strictly to be worn under chausses.’

‘You don’t need pants at all when you have legs like that.’ admired the Orlesian, tilting her head to enjoy the view of his muscular thighs. ‘Your hose hugs all the right places.’

Cullen ran a devious thumb across his lip as he tilted his head and looked Rose up and down with his amber eyes. ‘Funnily enough I was about to say the same of you in that dress?’

‘I suppose you noticed I wore this ridiculous dress when we rode out today?’ laughed Rose, shaking her head. ‘In case you were wondering, no I’m not some flibbertigibbet who insists on wearing impractical garments when riding a mount. I have no riding gear. Don’t laugh.’

The templar threw a dark smile as if he was all too aware. ‘Trust me, that was not what I was thinking when I saw you in it.’ he replied. Cullen’s hands fell to his crimson doublet, where he slowly unbuttoned from the neck down. ‘This gambeson is essentially just a quilted jacket.’ informed Cullen. ‘Most Templars wear these under their armour.’. He flashed a wink. ‘Just in case you were wondering what we Templars hide beneath our _rough exteriors_.’

Rose rolled her hand in encouragement. ‘Like layers of an onion, you’ll have to go further than that to reveal your core.’

Cullen laughed bashfully, flashing his brilliant white teeth. ‘Maker help me, I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ he chuckled to himself. ‘Alright, where was I?’. The templar threw his gambeson onto the table and returned to the next layer. ‘Ah yes, this metal shirt is a hauberk. It’s a heavy chainmail coat made from small metal rings linked together into a mesh. It affords good protection against slashing but can be pierced easily. Hence why we wear it under our cuirass.’

Weighing it up in his hand, he smirked as he dropped it onto the desk. The templar was now in a white tunic and pants, with one more piece of armour remaining.

Reaching for his arms, the Commander began to remove his armour. ‘These are plate pauldrons. The plate armour spaulder completely protect the arms with plates of steel. _Never leave home without it.’_

Placing the pauldrons beside the chausses, Cullen turned back to Rose. In his white tunic and black hose, he extended his arms in a playful bow. ‘And here you have me stripped of my mask. A man like any other.’

‘_A man like no other_.’ corrected Rose as swooped into his arms, kissing the templar passionately.

Wrapping his arms around the woman, Cullen pulled her tight against his warm muscular body as his lips met hers. Her hands ran under his shirt, sweeping against his tight sun kissed abdomen, and his hands fell to her snow white breasts, fumbling with the stubborn buttons to free her flesh.

‘Just rip it.’ urged Rose.

Cullen cast a dubious eye to the delicate blue fabric holding her bosom. ‘You came here with one dress and you wish me to rip it?’

‘Rip it.’ she grinned. ‘I’ll sew it up again. I can do that, remember?’

Growling playfully Cullen’s strong hands grasped her dress and ripped the top half effortlessly in two, releasing her milky white breasts into his eager hands.

‘Maker be praised for sending me a tailor.’ exclaimed the templar wickedly, squeezing her breasts with pleasure.

The Orlesian laughed as the templar teased her large breasts in his large palms.

‘Do you like?’ mused Rose. ‘Orlesian men love a _trou du cul_, but I’m told Ferelden’s love breasts?’

‘When they’re as ripe as yours…_very much so_.’ affirmed Cullen wickedly, taking her breast to his mouth with enthusiasm.

He lowered his lips and kissed her pink nipples gently before sucking them one by one. Rose elongated her milky white neck in pleasure as she moaned at the sensation of his mouth.

‘You’re sending tingles straight to _ma chatte_ when you do that.’ she professed breathlessly.

‘So are you to _mon bite_ with all those filthy Orlesian words.’ growled Cullen. ‘I learnt a little of your language from my soldiers over the years. Mostly the dirty parts.’

‘_Jetez vos pantalons._’ purred Rose playfully.

The templar revealed a wicked smile before lowering his mouth once more to suck away. He placed a finger in his mouth, coating his digit in saliva. before pinching Rose’s hard nipples between his finger and thumb. She moaned as he kissed and pinched, sucked and licked. Her soft cries appeared to further excite Cullen as his lips hungrily drew up to her neck, bathing her in soft kisses.

‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked between kisses, unwilling to leave her soft skin for more than a moment.

Her hands ran up along his chiselled back as she pulled Cullen towards her, encouraging the ravishment of kisses to continue. ‘I’m sure Cullen.’ she replied breathlessly. ‘I need this.’

Suddenly the templar wrapped her up in his strong arms, lifting her body effortlessly, and carried her before the stone fireplace. Upon the wooden floor he lowered Rose, laying her down before crawling on top of her with another soft kiss on her mouth. His hands fell to her blue dress skirts, bunching them up as he feverishly released his cock from his tights. She reached for his hardness; delicate fingers wrapping around his aroused dick. Cullen’s eyes lulled closed as he became lost in the sensation of her soft hand rubbing his hardness up and down in sensuous strokes.

‘Rose I need to fuck you.’ growled Cullen, his lust growing urgent.

Their mouths met hungrily again, moaning into each other and then crying out in a shuddered gasp of anticipation as Cullen positioned his throbbing cock between her welcoming legs and rubbed along her juicy clit.

‘Make love to me, Knight-Commander.’ she urged.

Cullen frowned for a moment, recalling another who called him by that name behind closed doors. Coldness filled his heart as he saw Ophelia’s green eyes looking up at him, whispering the same words. Refusing to linger on her memory, he shook his head violently. Firmly Cullen moved his hips to Rose’s pelvis, and sank his dick into her cunt, pushing out all thoughts except what was before him. A warm flower he needed to seed.

Rose whispered ‘_j’aime ça, j’aime ça, j’aime ça…je veux te baiser_.’ as the Commander began to gyrate deeply in long strokes. His sandy hair fell down into her face as he rolled passionately into her. Her hands lifted his hair back and her eager mouth met his as they kissed deeply into every thrust. The templar didn’t ravage her with furious fucks or wrap his hand around her throat. Nor did he insist on hurting her at the expense of his pleasure. Instead Cullen penetrated her with endearment, as if she were to break if he did not stroke her gently. He found her delicate Orlesian whimpers erotic, pushing him over the edge as her muscles clenched his cock when he hit her depths. The soft thud of his body against her flesh as Cullen thrust into her was drowned out by their sensual moans of desire.

To the Templar's surprise it was first time that Cullen felt he was simply making love to another woman, and as he continued to build up towards his crescendo he noticed Rose looking up at him with that sense of tranquility that he felt from her. This time it felt different. Cullen didn't feel the urge to unleash his aggression. _This act felt peaceful._

The Orlesian wrapped her warm thighs tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper into her as Cullen stoked faster. His head lowered into the crook of her neck as he penetrated in loving strokes. His breath caught as he felt Rose tremble below him, squeezing his cock as she cried out in release several times. So intense was the sensation Cullen felt his voice miles away, moaning in so much pleasure it distorted in his ears. Tears fell down his cheek as he came over and over again, releasing all his emotions in that final act. His abdomen tightened as he came again; laughing in disbelief as his body was riddled with another heightened orgasm.

Rose clutched his face and kissed his tears, smiling as her eyes met his.

_‘I see you without your mask and you are perfect_.’ she whispered.

Cullen’s lips crushed onto hers as he remained within her. His tongue dove deep, tasting her with enthusiasm. With a reluctant groan he finally pulled out along with his spilling seed that trailed down her leg. The Commander ran a thumb along her swollen pink slit, drawing a shivered breath as he watched his sperm trickle from her.

‘Do you enjoy seeing what you’ve just done?’ mused Rose, a satisfied flush present in her cheeks. ‘All men are such visual creatures.’

‘There’s something _undeniably arousing_ in watching my seed pour out of Michel de Chevin’s wife.’ he confessed darkly. Cullen lifted his lustful amber eyes to meet the woman’s, a curl forming on his lips. ‘Retribution never looked so sweet.’

‘There’s undeniable satisfaction in being filled up with the seed of Michel’s enemy.’ replied Rose wickedly, bringing Cullen’s hand to her loving lips and bestowing a kiss. ‘Let us enjoy each other as they do. For there will be no revenge as sweet as that.’


	159. The Tithe of Suffering

Gentle sounds of a pen scratching on parchment, weathered pages turning, and the soft crackle of a well stoked fire filled the War Room that afternoon. Jowan was examining a text on protective elements while I was researching for a place in Thedas to secure that particular element we required. We were after a mineral called Rydunite. According to Jowan it was the only stone known to protect oneself from demons. Incredible rare and exceptionally powerful, Jowan professed he had only come across it once in his entire life. Ironically it had been given to him by Sapientes himself; in the form of a bangle, bestowed by the demon to Jowan in order to protect his protégé from the demons of the Fade. And now it remained on the arm of Leliana; a protective gift bestowed by Jowan when she had returned from the Fade in order to prevent her being taken by Sapientes on the off chance he sought to have her back.

‘Are you certain it even exists in Thedas?’ I muttered, throwing another useless book beside the table. ‘None of these texts here mention Rydunite.’

‘Nothing of worth is ever easy to obtain.’ observed Jowan dryly, adding notes to a page scrawled with too much writing. ‘Keep searching in the library. It’ll be mentioned somewhere. It has to.’

Our study was disturbed by a loud knock at our door as a frantic looking apprentice entered without waiting. The mage swept his brown floppy hair off his sweaty face as he approached the war table.

‘Matthew what is it?’ asked Jowan in surprise. ‘Did something happen in the laboratory?’

The mage pointed breathlessly behind him, as if he had run all the way from the gates. ‘Master MacLothlorian. Mistress Trevelyan. _She has come_. Divine Elizabeth and a strange looking templar have arrived. They await you in the main hall right now.’

‘Cassandra is here already?’ I frowned, casting a suspicious eye to Jowan. ‘A week early?’

In annoyance, Jowan shut his book closed sharply. ‘Perfect. No doubt to catch us off guard. Just what we need.’

‘Best not keep them waiting.’ I sighed. ‘Come on, let’s get this over and done with.’

Side by side we marched down the passage from our study that led into the hall. As we entered the main hall, there waiting by the throne chair in the distance stood Cassandra and an elderly man with greying hair I did not recognise.

Jowan hissed as he saw the man from afar. ‘Knight-Vigilante Robard.’ he scathed. ‘The one templar worse than Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard.’

‘Is that even possible?’ I exclaimed.

The mage gritted his teeth, as if he was privy to many harrowing memories relating to the templar before him. ‘Meredith is a wyvern compared to this High Dragon.’

‘And you know him how?’ I asked precariously.

‘When I was Left Hand to Leliana we spent much time at the Grand Cathedral.’ muttered Jowan. ‘Robard takes residence there and he made his presence quite clear. He sits in the pocket of every Divine to come through the Chantry, and influences every decision made by the Head of the Church. You think the Divine runs the show? No. This man does.’

Jowan extended his black robed arms with a feigned smile as he approached the guests.

‘Cassandra. Robard. We weren’t expecting you for another week or so!’

‘Jowan.’ gruffed Robard, extending his shriveled hand. ‘It’s been many years boy.’

The mage took his hand with apparent reproach, clasping the Templar’s palm with a rigid jaw. ‘Far few in my opinion.’ Jowan replied wispily.

‘Huh.’ grunted Robard, as if expecting such shortness from the mage. ‘I see you’ve not changed? I warned Leliana you’d be trouble. Now look at you? A maleficar training blood magic to a bunch of apostates. Like stags in the wild, I’ll hunt you all down in the end.’

Jowan raised an amused brow. ‘You’re looking older Robard. All this excitement can’t be good for your heart? We wouldn’t want it to give way all the way up here so far away from your dedicated healers in Val Royeaux. How long have they been able to keep you alive now? Four hundred? Five hundred years?’

‘Is that a threat boy?’ blustered Robard.

‘Not yet.’ replied Jowan sharply. ‘Just keep up with threats of hunting my mages like wild game and perhaps it could be?’

‘_Jowan_.’ warned Cassandra sternly. Her hand rose to placate the templar who was about to start yelling back a reply. ‘Robard, let us all keep calm.’

Both Cassandra and Jowan refused to take each other’s hand in a shake, instead taking the moment to glare icily at each other. Feeling that I should placate the tense atmosphere, I extended my hand to our former Seeker.

‘Welcome back to Skyhold, Cassandra.’ I greeted, throwing her a smile. ‘I’m sorry things got a little heated between us in Denerim. It’s nice to have you back with us here. Must be strange being back here after so long?’

Our former Seeker’s hand was cold as I grasped it; so cold I felt a little concerned she may have been in the snow for too long. Her tall frame towered over me, yet Cassandra appeared pasty and rather bleak as I stood before her. The Seeker of years past had always been a strong athletic woman and to my surprise this person before me was only a whisper of that Cassandra.

‘Ophelia, it’s g… it has been a while.’ she replied softly, her voice cracking a little in response to my kind words.

Frowning at her comment, I could sense Cassandra had wanted to say_ it was good to see me_ but staved herself at the last moment. Our hands were still gripped and I released her cold palm uneasily.

‘Come stand by the fire.’ I encouraged, moving towards the great pit in the hall. ‘You both must be freezing after such a ride? Once the cold gets into your bones it’s hard to get it out. Can we get you a warm meal?’

The templar dug his heels in and refused to move an inch. ‘We’re fine just where we are _missy_.’

Jowan turned to me with a casual smile, mouthing the words _missy_ at me playfully. Shaking my head in disbelief, I wondered what foul creature had crawled into the skin of this wretched templar.

‘Robard, this is Ophelia Trevelyan.’ introduced Jowan with a smirk. ‘Ophelia, this is Knight-Vigilante Robard Griffin. He lives in the White Spire. Isn’t that nice?’

The Knight-Vigilant cast a disgusted look at me as if I were dog poo on the sole of his shoe. ‘The disgraced Queen of Ferelden. Yes I’ve heard much of you.’

My lip curled in amusement, eyeing the man up with a smirk. ‘Don’t forget I’m also an apostate that fled the Ostwick Tower,’ I reminded ‘and _The Herald of Andraste_, The Inquisitor, the prisoner kept by the Ferelden Throne to conceive an heir, Mother to the Princess of Ferelden, Senior Enchanter to _The Mage Order of Southern Thedas_, Co-owner to a thriving mead business, and these days…_quite a power maleficar with a short fuse when it comes to strangers sassing me in my keep_.’

Jowan threw a pleasant smile at the scowling templar. ‘Would you care for a cup of tea?’

‘More threats.’ seethed the templar. ‘I wouldn’t drink tea with the pair of you if my life depended on.’

Jowan shrugged. ‘Probably a wise move?’

Rolling my eyes as the grizzly old man staring coldly at me, I walked away to the fire in the center of the room. As I breathed out frosty plumes before the heat, I waited as Cassandra and Jowan joined my side.

‘We come to see what progress has been made.’ informed Cassandra, rubbing her fingers eagerly before the heat. ‘As agreed in Denerim, we require a full report from both you and the Templars. Knight-Commander Cullen sends us weekly reports. Your mages have yet to send anything.’

‘That’s ironic since our mages have yet to see a brass coin from the Chantry.’ I replied darkly, staring into flames. ‘This mission doesn’t come cheap Cassandra and we’ve not two groschen to rub together.’

So it’s money you’re after?’ observed Cassandra starkly.

‘As per our agreement to aid, you promised funding.’ reminded Jowan, flashing his dark eyes to hers. ‘We too need equipment if you’re to send us into the Fade. There are a lot of expensive materials we requrie. And a little maintenance for our keep wouldn’t go astray. You know how costly it gets to clothe and feed people up here. Just as you fund the Templars for food, weapons, armour and wages – I expect the same for our mages.’

‘That too needs to be addressed in the coming days.’ affirmed Cassandra wearily. ‘Don’t concern yourselves. I’ll provide coin to ensure this mission goes smoothly. No one wants this to drag out longer than it has to. For now though we’re tired from our ride, so this can all wait until tomorrow. And Robard and I will need lodgings if you have any?’

Jowan shrugged. ‘Cullen has taken up residence in your old study but it’s yours until he comes back. Even then, I’d be inclined to keep it and send him back to his tent outside our keep.’. His dark eyes darted to Robard standing stubbornly away from the group. ‘I’m sure there’s a place to shove him to. Like the mage tower in the corner of the keep? Or the cupboard we store the latrine buckets in?’

Despite being unable to hear our conversation, the Knight-Vigilante continued to scowl at us from afar.

‘Where is Cullen?’ frowned Cassandra. ‘Wasn’t he supposed to be up here training with your mages?’

‘He’s currently at Caer Bronach.’ I informed with a shrug. ‘According to his Knight-Captain he had to take the men down there to change over the garrison. Apparently they’re on a six week rotation?’

Jowan’s lip curled. ‘Let’s hope they stay there for a while.’

‘Have you been cooperative?’ asked Casandra, clearly doubting the mage had. ‘This mission is important to the Templars, but Jowan I know this mission is important to you. You’d do well to not cause waves with the Order.’

Rubbing his hands to the flames, Jowan’s attention fell to the fire. ‘Look at what we propose to do here Cassandra?’ he observed solemnly. ‘Your only chance at defeating Sapientes is through the very magic this Order is willing to murder mages over. To ask me not to cause waves is to ask me to drown.’

My eyes looked curiously to my friend. It was rare to see Jowan speak so plainly to anyone without a snide comment. Yet here he was exposing himself bare to the one woman he hated.

‘When it comes to these people you should be cooperative.’ warned Cassandra. Her eyes flickered in the direction of Robard for a split second. ‘There are worse things than drowning.’

Jowan shrugged at Cassandra’s advice as my eyes turned curiously at her. Perhaps it was a woman’s intuition but her voice was filled with fear. As if she was scared of something?’

With a sharp nod Cassandra turned and began to walk to the entrance of the main hall. ‘Please show Robard to his quarters.’ she called out. ‘Forgive me, I need some sleep.’

****

Standing in the courtyard of Skyhold, Cassandra’s brown eyes fell to the door of her study. The green paint had chipped away over the years, now revealing splinters forming in the wood, and the once shiny brass handle had become very dull. Tentatively she opened the door, stepping into a musty room. It was cold and dark from the lack of afternoon sun hidden behind the clouds, and she rummaged in Cullen’s desk to find a tinderbox to light the candles. After feeling around for several minutes her hand secured the box and proceeded to ignite the candles, casting light in the room. The honeyed warm glow revealed the study had definitely been taken over by a templar, with books and pieces of loose armour stored in each corner of the room.

Her brow creased as she noticed Cullen was using her old bed to store several water pouches, repair kits for his armour, polishing rags and a pile of tattered instruction manuals. Some half eaten rations lay discarded by the window, and a collection of maps were scattered across the floor.

‘Cullen.’ she muttered, throwing her own bag onto the bed. 

‘_Seeker_.’

Cassandra’s heart dropped as she heard a familiar voice behind her. Her head turned to see a dwarf standing at the open door. There was no welcoming smile on the rogue’s face as he crossed his arms and leant against the wooden frame, eyeing up the woman before him.

‘_Varric?_’ she exclaimed in surprise. She shook her head in disbelief as she approached him, as if seeing a ghost. ‘I didn’t know you were up here?’

Varric’s brown eyes betrayed his hurt as he looked at her.

‘I never left.’ he replied.

Confused at his response, Cassandra shook her head. ‘But I was told you moved to Hightown? Number 44 Royal Lane. You took up residence there four years ago.’

Her eyes darted away in guilt, fearfully realising that she had confessed to having had Varric spied on for her own personal reasons.

‘See you’ve got your own network these days?’ muttered Varric. ‘Yeah I lived there for a while. Tried to get on with life after you bailed.’. The rogue rubbed his rough stubble as he recalled his time in Kirkwall. ‘Home’s a funny concept. You can spend your whole life wishing to return to that place but without the people in it, it ain’t worth a shit in a hat.’

‘So, what? You returned here to Skyhold instead?’ frowned Cassandra. ‘Why?’

‘I dunno Seeker, maybe something about you promising to be back kept a piece of me bound to this place?’ scorned Varric. ‘Shit, you have _no idea_ what I went through in Kirkwall. Bet your spies didn’t tell you how dark this dwarf’s days were? I wasn’t doing well in Kirkwall. Bartrand died over the winter just when I returned.’

Cassandra’s face fell, saddened at the news. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’

‘Yeah well guess your network doesn’t tell you everything.’ muttered the dwarf. ‘I hit rock bottom. Was drinking myself into an early grave each day at _The Hanged Man_. Heck I’d bet I would have been dead by now had it not been for Riddles and Sparrow.’

‘Jowan and Ophelia?’ frowned Cassandra. ‘How were they to help you when they were at Denerim Palace? Or were they back at Skyhold?’

Varric shook his head in disgust at the woman. ‘Unlike you, they never cut ties with me. No matter where they were. They came looking for me in Kirkwall, asking for help one day. Sparrow and Riddles knew it was a long shot but they needed help raising money for their mages.’

‘So your friends wanted your money?’ observed Cassandra flatly.

Varric threw the woman a scowl. ‘They wouldn’t take one groschen off me. You don’t know a damn thing about those two, you know? If you did you’d realise they were the last people to try and take advantage of someone. Unlike a group of council members I know? They needed a plan and I came up with one. The kids gave me a chance to dig my way out of the hole I’d dug in Kirkwall. You think they didn’t realise I was in over my head? They knew I needed a goal to put my mind to. So we agreed to start a mead venture together. That’s what friends do, Seeker. We don’t give up on each other. I went to Michel de Chevin and heck even he was happy to aid us on our venture. The guy gave us his apiary. And I’m not talking about a few hives at the bottom of a paddock. He gave us an entire farm and manor, housing one of the largest apiaries in Orlais. No questions asked. So yeah, we’re doing fine without you these days.’

‘So you were the reason these mages managed to survive up here.’ remarked Cassandra in surprise. ‘It was King Alistair’s intention, and the Chantry’s, to suffocate any funding up here to prevent the mages growing in size at Skyhold.’

‘And you wonder why they hate you so much?’ observed Varric bitterly. ‘You guys left them starving out here.’

‘Their place is in the towers.’ replied the Seeker. ‘We weren’t going to reward them for raising a rebellion.’

Varric shook his head. ‘You’re wrong Seeker. About everything. Stick around here for a while and you’ll see what Skyhold is about these days.’

Cassandra appeared unconvinced. ‘Still, we always wondered how the mages managed to produce a successful business to support their lifestyle up here. Now I know it was your doing.’

Varric shrugged. ‘Yeah perhaps I saved those mages, but you know what? They saved me. I move around between Lapin, Kirkwall and here, but Skyhold is my home these days. And these people up here are my family.’

Cassandra took a cautious step forward as her voice lowered into a whisper. ‘Varric I never wanted any of this.’ she informed quietly, ‘The Chantry called me to service. There are some things more important-‘

‘Horseshit there is!’ interrupted Varric angrily, refusing to hear her out. ‘If you care about someone you don’t promise them you’ll be back and then hightail off to Val Royeaux for four and half years. I sent you hundreds of letters and you returned them all! _Without a word?_ Didn’t I deserve that? Just one visit to tell me it’s over? Heck you coulda chucked it in one of those fancy messages from the Chantry and sent a messenger to do your dirty work. But instead you acted like you and I never happened.’

‘You don’t know anything about it.’ replied Cassandra darkly. ‘I had my reasons.’

Varric thrust a hand out, stepping forward to the woman. ‘Well, what was it? I’m here now. So tell me Seeker, what were your reasons to cast me aside and never look back?’

Refusing to speak, Cassandra turned to her pack and began to remove her items.

The rogue shook his head in disgust. ‘You know what Seeker? _Fucking welcome back.’_

The door slammed shut as Varric stormed off, shaking the room with an angry tremble. Cassandra sank to her knees by the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks as she began to sob.


	160. Flights of Fancy

Stirring at the first rays of light falling through his window, Cullen awoke that morning in his cottage at Caer Bronach with a content smile. After being away for so long, the templar had discovered he sorely missed the life he had made for himself back in Crestwood. In this house he had built with his own hands, Cullen had created a life for himself in Ferelden. Some part of him felt like this was as close as he would get to feeling like he did as a child growing up in Honnleath. Life was simple in the Ferelden countryside, but in his humble opinion it was perfect.

Stretching his bare chest as he rolled out of bed, the Knight-Commander pulled on a pair of white braies and snuck out of the room. Quietly Cullen retreated to the living area to heat some water in the pot above the fire. A quick search of his larder soon confirmed there was little food in the cottage, since he had been away in Skyhold, but the templar managed to muster a hot cup of coffee and a smile as he returned to his bed.

Nestled in the sheets lay Rose de Chevin, her eyelids fluttering as she stirred from her slumber. The templar placed a kiss on her cheek and Rose opened her sleepy eyes.

‘Rise and shine soldier.’ Cullen whispered.

She sat up, graciously accepting the coffee with a polite, albeit tired, nod.

‘_Merci_, you’re too good.’ she yawned, taking a sip with a content sigh. ‘_Mon dieu, _for a moment there I forgot where I was.’

Cullen looked around his chambers with a smirk. ‘Yes I imagine it’s hard to believe this isn’t some decadent Orlesian manor. You probably have a room just like it back home?’

The lady laughed, sipping away at her coffee merrily. ‘For all the rich cotton bedding I’ve put on my exclusively designed Summer Bazaar sleigh bed at home, I’ve never had such a good night’s sleep as the one I just had. Whoever said money buys happiness? I dearly wish I had this room back in Lapin. I’d sleep like a baby every night.’

The templar sat back on his bed, sipping his coffee with a leisurely smile. ‘Maker you have no idea how nice it was to wake up in Crestwood this morning and not that icy ruin in the Frostback Mountains. I slept rather well also, but perhaps there were other factors at play?’. His mischievous amber eyes darted to the woman. ‘Can’t imagine what?’

‘Perhaps it was the fine conversation we had in your study?’ suggested Rose coyly.

‘Is that what we’re calling it now?’ mused Cullen. ‘We should chat more often.’

Rose laughed, nudging the templar with her elbow. ‘What’s the saying? A good fuck before bed is just what the alchemist ordered?

‘I _need_ to get the name of your alchemist!’ chuckled Cullen. The Knight-Commander put down his cup on his bedside table and turned back to the woman a little more serious. ‘You know, I’m glad you decided to come back here last night with me. I know for a fact the guest quarters in Caer Bronach are a vast deal prettier than this place.’

Rose rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t want pretty. I wanted to wake up in the arms of the gorgeous templar I made love to last night. Not alone in some cold guest room.’

Pulling Cullen towards her, Rose planted a fond kiss on his rugged cheek. His chest rose and lowered as the templar drew her to his mouth gently to hers, exchanging a deep kiss between their parted lips.

‘Even still, it must feel strange?’ teased Cullen. ‘To wake up in a commoner’s cottage rather than a marble palace or whatever you wake up to in Orlais?’

Sinking back into the covers, Rose cradled her coffee and took another sip. ‘Being wealthy isn’t everything, I promise you.’ she informed. ‘The sparkle fades quite fast and all you’re left with is an ample glut of possessions that provoke no real joy.’. Her fingers ran around the cup languidly, as if she’d thought often on the subject. ‘Cullen trust me, the mask of a noble is a cold and detached one that cruelly expects us all to play a role that would make no one with a beating heart truly happy.’ Her green eyes lifted and ran across the worn Ferelden furniture of Cullen’s room with a mischievous glint. ‘That being said, perhaps this place could use a woman’s touch? Maybe a bit of velvet and jacquard weave? A few mirrors and some bold portraits?’

Cullen winced and Rose laughed.

The templar brushed his hand at her. ‘You’ll leave soon enough to Skyhold or Orlais or wherever you fine folk dash off to, and I’ll be left with a cottage full of foreign fabrics and mirrors.’

The smile on her face faded upon hearing his omen. ‘Can I confess something?’ she asked softly.

‘What is it?’ asked Cullen curiously.

‘I don’t want to return to Skyhold in a few weeks.’ she muttered. ‘Or be forced back to Lapin when Michel demands it. I want to stay here with you and help the Order.’

‘Then stay.’ grinned the Knight-Commander, crawling across the bed to the woman snuggled in the sheets. Cullen placed a tender kiss on her lips. His wide jaw smiled as he pulled away. ‘_Stay_.’ he repeated ‘And if you can bare a rustic Ferelden country living, start a new life here for a while? Maybe it’s nothing more than a fantasy? But it might work? Who knows?’

The pair fell back into a sensual embrace, wrapping themselves together as they kissed amongst the sheets.

‘Speak to me of this fantasy.’ murmured Rose, sighing as she felt Cullen’s soft lips at her neck. Her hand ran down his raw muscular back as she held him to her. ‘I want to know what it would be like?’

‘You could sleep here in my cottage as long as you like. Or get a home for yourself?’ Cullen suggested, placing another gently kiss on her neck. ‘I’m not pressuring you into a life with me. _Maker I’m not that unhinged_. But there is a life here for you to pursue your own path in the Templar Order. Be it in my bed or in your own.’

‘This bed is heavenly, why would I choose another?’ replied Rose dreamily, placing her lips affectionately on the Templar’s bare chest. She kissed from his pecs down to his tanned abdomen, grinning as he flinched from her ticklish lips. ‘If there’s room here for me?’

‘There might be enough room here for you?’ grinned Cullen, noticing her hands stroking the hardness concealed in his trousers. ‘We could work in the keep and yes…retire here at night. You can’t sleep in the guest quarters forever. So… maybe here would be the practical solution?’

‘Very practical’ observed Rose, pulling down his braies with a wicked smile. His hot pikestaff sprung to attention and throbbed desperately hard as she eased the fabric down his muscular thighs. ‘Can you imagine? You training your Templars. Me aiding your order where I could. If I could? I’m no templar but I’d be honoured to do what I can.’

She wrapped her hand around his warm erect cock and began to tease him. Lowering his head, Cullen moaned into her strokes.

‘Maker yes, that sounds wonderful.’ murmured the templar, throwing back his head as he groaned into her ministrations.

‘Living in a quaint little Ferelden cottage like out of some pretty painting.’ continued Rose, rubbing the head of his cock in small strokes as Cullen groaned in pleasure. Her thumb playfully brushed over his slit as it revealed a glisten of pre-cum. ‘A place where the sun always shines and flowers always bloom.’

‘It could work?’ smouldered Cullen, his eyes brimming with lust. ‘Working in Caer Bronach together. Supping at _The Merry Fox_. Taking a stroll through the market place in Crestwood.’

‘Finding a woman for Arrus in Crestwood.’ added Rose playfully.

The templar rolled on top of the woman, pulling the sheets down to expose her naked milky white body.

‘Yes, get him out of the bathhouses!’ laughed Cullen. ‘I could cook you a meal each night. Do you like rabbit?’

‘Fresh from the forest with sprigs of rosemary? I adore it.’ laughed Rose. ‘And I could make desserts. Do you like crème brulee?’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever had it?’ murmured Cullen, stroking his cock as he positioned it at her mons. ‘Is it cake?’

Rose tapped him pleasantly on the nose as she opened her legs for him. ‘No, but you’ll love it. I’ll bake you a cake also.’

‘We could play Wicked Grace in the evening by the fire.’ continued Cullen, rubbing his bulbous head along her lips.

The templar grinned as Rose whimpered in pleasure as his cock brushed against her pearl.

‘We could make love by the fire.’ moaned Rose, as Cullen continued to rub her clit with his stiffness.

‘_Now that could definitely work_.’ whispered the templar as he slowly penetrated her. ‘Although it’s no manor in Lapin, mind you? It’s not-….._Maker’s breath_’

His words caught in his throat as he felt her warmth engulf him.

‘Good!’ groaned Rose, pulling Cullen against her chest as he sank deeper into her. She cried out in pleasure as he began to thrust slowly. ‘I don’t want a manor in Lapin. I want-…I-want-’

The templar rocked back and forth playfully as he looked down at Rose, grinning as she struggled to talk through his teasing strokes.

‘Maker you’re so beautiful.’ he whispered.

Cullen continued to stroke softly into her, building up into firmer thrusts until Rose was crying out in Orlesian. The templar groaned in agonising pleasure as he continued to thrust, bringing his companion several orgasms before succumbing to his own crescendo deep within her.

His amber eyes opened before hers as he remained on top of the woman. ‘I want you here.’ Cullen confessed. ‘I know it’s soon but I know what I want.’

‘Your life here is my dream.’ whispered Rose. ‘Helping your Templars and coming home every night to you _is my dream_.’

His expression softened, as if her heartfelt words struck his own heart. The Knight-Commander pulled out of her, wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her to his chest. ‘If only dreams were real?’ he muttered, kissing her head. ‘You’d flourish here Rose. So would I. I can feel it.’

‘Who would have thought I’d find everything I ever wanted by mistake?’ observed Rose softly. ‘If I’d never insisted I go with Michel to Skyhold I would have never met you. And it breaks my heart to think I could have lived in a world not knowing you.’

Cullen’s lips fell on to hers as they kissed once more.

‘Can I confess something also?’ he whispered.

The woman smiled curiously. ‘What?’

Cullen revealed a wide smile, wrapping his arms tightly around her. ‘Rose, I feel exactly the same way.’


	161. The Arrow of Perfidious

‘This soup is delicious Varric.’ observed Jowan in delight, scooping spoonfuls hungrily. ‘The flavour is incredible! It’s as if my tastebuds are dancing to the tune of a snake charmer’s pungi in an Antivan bazaar.’

Varric appeared pleased. ‘And who was that naysayer that told me I was crazy for hiring an Antivan cook or two from _The Hanged Man_?’. The rogue pointed an accusing finger beside Jowan. ‘Sparrow? Can you remember?’

‘My point at the time, as I recall, was _not everything can be found in The Hanged Man_.’ I explained, dipping some bread into the soup before savouring it with a grin. ‘The soup is exceptional, but I still stand by my sentiments. You can’t always whip out the solution from that fine establishment.’

‘You see, that’s where you’re wrong.’ argued Varric. ‘_The Hanged Man_ holds the solution to every problem in Thedas. _It’s a universal truth_. Years back when you ended up in Kirkwall with no clue of what you were doing or where you were going, what did you do?_’_

‘I went to _The Hanged Man_.’ I admitted, rolling my eyes.

The dwarf crossed his arms smugly. ‘You went to _The Hanged Man.’_

Noticing Jowan’s smirk, the rogue clicked his fingers at the mage. ‘Don’t laugh Riddles. Whatever you’re searching for, it’s in there.’

‘Such as the end to the Templar Order?’ asked the mage pleasantly.

‘The 15 copper House whiskey.’ quipped Varric, tapping his nose. ‘Give twelve drams to each templar and see them evaporate before your very eyes.’

Jowan and I laughed into our soup as Varric pretended to down twelve shots and collapse on the floor.

‘Well it’s worth a try.’ I mused. ‘Let’s start with Knight-Vigilante Robard.’

The mage flashed me a grin. ‘_Missy _doesn’t like the old crumpet, does she?’

‘Don’t call me missy,’ I threatened playfully, pointing my spoon at the mage as if it were a dagger. ‘or I’ll turn you into a bowl of pig oat mash and serve you up in _The Hanged Man_.’

Our light hearted banter was interrupted by a concerned chevalier walking into the tavern. From the look on Michel’s face it was apparent he was stressed. As he approached, his emotional blue eyes darted to each of us frantically, as if he hadn’t slept a wink for days.

‘Goldilocks.’ welcomed Varric. ‘You come for supper? Or are you about to hit the hay in the back room? I can heat you up a bowl before you sleep?’

Despite appearing as if he barely heard the question, the chevalier shook his head politely. ‘No thank you Varric.’

‘Michel?’ I frowned. ‘Is everything alright?’

The chevalier dragged a chair to our table and sat down with a miserable nod of acknowledgement to us.

‘What’s up Goldilocks?’ frowned Varric. ‘You didn’t eat cook’s stew tonight did you?’

‘Rat stew.’ shuddered Jowan.

‘Ram stew.’ I corrected with a grin. ‘And you can’t blame the stew for Talm being sick this evening. He most likely threw up in the main hall because he’s been drinking too much mead or ate a bad piece of cheese.’

Jowan raised a cynical brow. ‘Talm ate half a bowl of that stew and hurled. I came into the hall as it happened. And if you saw the look on Ruthie’s face when one of the mages questioned her about the contents of tonight’s meal you’d know something was up. That wasn’t ram in the stew.’

‘Well you kids can eat at _The Cock and Bull_ all you want.’ encouraged Varric. ‘The house special is always good. Mind you it’s always Antivan themed, but there are no rats. Heck, it’s a fair bit better than Ruthie’s shit she serves up there. You know the only reason she stayed on was because no one in Thedas wanted to hire her?’

Noticing our Orlesian companion remaining deathly quiet, I turned my attention back to the chevalier.

‘Michel.’ I encouraged. ‘Talk to us. What’s the matter?’

‘She stays in Caer Bronach?’ informed Michel, revealing a letter scrunched in his palm. Thrusting the letter to me, he nodded for me to read it. ‘Rose leaves without saying a word. And two days later she writes to tell me she is going to stay with the Templars in Crestwood.’

‘Rosey is staying in Caer Bronach?’ frowned Varric. ‘Ahhh something ain't right with that story?’

Jowan caught Michel’s eye. ‘Oh I suspect there’s more to it?’ he observed cautiously, knowing all too well Cullen had been causing trouble with the chevalier’s marriage. ‘I suspect Michel realises that too?’

‘Yes.’ agreed Michel bitterly.

Taking the letter tentatively, I opened the message to read:

_Michel, _

_I am staying at Caer Bronach for the next few weeks until Knight-Commander Cullen returns to Skyhold. You know what you’ve done so don’t ask me to come back sooner. We shall speak when I return._

_Rose_

Shaking my head in confusion, I looked up to the chevalier. ‘_You know what you’ve done?’_

‘I’ve done nothing!’ declared Michel adamantly. Rubbing his blonde hair in agitation, the Orlesian appeared completely at a loss as to what his wife was referring to. ‘I’ve told Rose everything that happened during the Inquisition. As the Maker is my witness_, I laid it all on the table_. I respected her wishes to leave our chambers and find other sleeping arrangements. Knight-Captain Sheldon told me they were to ride into Crestwood for one day to pick up supplies. And now…now she decides to stay in Caer Bronach!’

‘_Curly_.’ muttered Varric, eyeing the letter. ‘You know he’s gotta be behind this.’

Jowan nodded, taking another spoon of soup. ‘He’s right, Michel. Cullen and Rose left together so any reasonable explanation would suggest Cullen has something to do with your wife refusing to return to the keep.’

‘Then I must ride there.’ declared Michel suddenly, rising from his seat. ‘She could be in trouble? Cullen may have held her there captive.’

‘Why would Cullen hold her captive?’ dismissed Jowan. ‘He’s not about to steal a noble and lock her away in a Templar’s keep. That’s likely going to step on a few toes.’

Varric nodded in agreement. ‘I’m with Riddles on this one, it ain’t Curly’s style.’

Michel frowned. ‘Until I know for sure I must go. _Tonight_.’

‘Tonight?’ I echoed uneasily, knowing it was a bad idea to venture from the keep after dusk. ‘Michel the moon is but a slither of a crescent. It’s pitch black out there. If you don’t fall off the side of the mountain you’ll be attacked by wolves before you’re out of sight of the keep!’

‘Yeah Goldilocks it ain't the best plan you’ve ever come up with.’ agreed Varric. ‘I’ve travelled Gherlan’s Pass at night when the moon is full and even then I came _this close_ to coming to an untimely end a bunch of times.’

‘And there’s always bandits camped along the bottom of the mountain.’ added Jowan. ‘A knight such as yourself on a white horse and dressed in expensive armour is bound to draw unwelcomed attention. Your trappings would feed a village for months.’

‘And let’s not forget how freezing cold it is out there.’ I piped in, rolling my hand to encourage my friends to dissuade Michel. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘Icy as a nug’s nose.’ affirmed Varric.

Jowan nodded. ‘You’ll risk getting frostbite. Or buried by falling ice? I’ve heard of men being lost under the snow out there that were never found again.’

‘These are dangers I’m willing to face.’ argued Michel, rising to his feet. ‘I will not wait another second to go down that mountain and rescue my wife. I fear I’ve waited too long. Until she is by my side I will not rest.’

‘It’s your funeral.’ muttered Jowan, finishing off his soup in several slurps.

With a polite bow, the chevalier began to march out the door, intent on his mission.

‘Wait.’ I call out, raising a hand to stop the chevalier from leaving. ‘You’re too important to me to die on the side of the mountain. Curse it, I’ll come with you. The wolves fear fire and I cast a good fireball.’

‘Not you too.’ chastised Jowan. ‘Ophelia it’s lunacy to venture out at such an hour. Michel isn’t thinking straight, _but you are_. Wait until morning. Cullen and Rose are not going anywhere.’

‘Fear not, I will not put you at risk for my personal issues.’ declined Michel graciously. He threw me a small sad smile. ‘It’s fine. I will be fine.’

‘No you’re not.’ I argued. ‘You’re worried sick about your wife and proposing risky adventures in the middle of the night. It’s dangerous out there and I’m coming with you.’

Varric clapped his hands together in delight. ‘Sounds like a journey! Yeah saddle me up too. Bianca can rid a path of wolves even in the dark.’

Michel sighed impatiently, as if he wished to ride out that second rather than discuss the matter any further. ‘Thank you my friends, but I intend to ride throughout the night. It will be a strenuous journey. You should stay.’

‘With Cassandra and Robard in the keep?’ I scoffed. ‘No I’ll take my chances with the wolves. Even falling off a cliff is a great deal more appealing than spending another second with them.’

‘Sparrow, couldn’t have said it better myself.’ agreed Varric bitterly. ‘The further away I can get from the Seeker the better. Anyway Goldilocks, we’re not in the habit of leaving our friends when they need our support. You’ve been there for us. Now we’re gonna be there for you. All the way to Caer Bronach.’

‘All the way to Caer Bronach.’ I sighed miserably_. It was the last place I wanted to go._

‘Oh yes, leave me alone to deal with our guests.’ groaned Jowan, pushing his empty bowl away. ‘Michel, learn to accept help when it’s offered. The sooner you all go the sooner you can return. With any luck I won’t have transformed Robard and Cassandra into rat stew by the time you’re riding back through the gates.’

***

Michel, Varric and I galloped out from Skyhold that night with lanterns in hand as we descended the mountain. It was an unforgiving ride in the pitch black of night, and several times my horse stirred so nervously I was nearly thrown off my saddle. Our Orlesian companion never uttered a word as he rode a little ahead, clearing the path at his insistence. Even in his darkest hour the chevalier was valiantly protecting those around him. Naturally Michel was a better horseman than either Varric or I, and his elven eyes afforded him better night vision, yet I suspected even had he been blind he would have insisted to lead our party down the dangerous road. And so we followed on after him, praying to the Maker that we’d survive the descent of Gherlan’s Pass.

_Thankfully we did._

As our horse’s hooves finally met the flatlands of Ferelden we all whispered silent prayers of thanks. We rode on for several more hours as dawn greeted us alongside Lake Calenhad, and finally in the early hours of the morning we rode into the gates of Caer Bronach.

Never had I ridden in such a short amount of time to the keep, and in exhaustion we all rested in the courtyard to share some water and food as we waited for Knight-Commander Cullen to arrive for duty. The templars that were in the keep were surprised at our arrival, but several of them appeared to know Varric and rejoiced in seeing their dwarven friend once more. We were invited to wait on the upper platform, and even were offered a cup of tea by several jovial templars.

For two hours we sat taking in the view of Lake Calenhad and ignoring the curious stares from the Templars on night-watch in the keep. It broke my heart to see Michel so quiet. He looked out across the land with a poignant expression, never turning to engage with either Varric or I. It was as if he were lost in a terrible maze of his mind, struggling to come to terms with the reality of his wife’s actions. I knew it wouldn’t help to give him advice or try to rally his spirits. Sometimes these events just needed to play out without intervention. And in truth I felt a little lost for words, and was glad our dwarven companion had come along to fill in the silence with tales of his own.

Finally Michel arose and informed us he was going to inquire about Cullen again, leaving Varric and I alone.

‘This is big mistake.’ I whispered, turning to my rogue companion. ‘You know this isn’t going to end well.’

‘What?’ chuckled Varric. ‘You mean us riding into a templar encampment and starting shit with their Knight-Commander isn’t the smart thing to do?’

‘If Rose has decided to stay then it won’t make a jot of difference if Michel is here now.’ I observed cautiously. ‘All it’ll achieve is one big fight.’

Varric threw me a frown. ‘Sparrow, he’s her husband. The kid’s got a right to defend his marriage. Imagine if you were married to someone you actually loved.’

‘It’s a fair stretch of the imagination.’ I scoffed.

The dwarf laughed. ‘Yeah well maybe where you’re concerned. Nevertheless kid, imagine you were in love with your husband and he ran off somewhere and didn’t tell you why, and then said he didn’t want to come back!’

‘I’d be…_heartbroken_.’ I muttered. ‘Poor Michel.’

‘Sometimes you gotta fight for what is right.’ informed Varric, smacking his palm into his fist. ‘Michel is here because he’s fighting for his marriage. Gotta respect his wishes Sparrow.’

‘I do, that’s why I rode for half the night to be here.’ I frowned ‘What do you think Rose is going to do?’

Before the dwarf could answer, a familiar templar voice came from behind us.

‘So I arrive at my keep to find an Orlesian, a dwarf and a mage waiting for me.’ observed Cullen cynically, as he adjusted his gauntlets crisply. ‘Something tells me this is the start of a terrible joke.’. Nudging his head towards his study, the templar beckoned us forth. ‘Come on, best we have this conversation indoors.’

My eyes met the Knight-Commander but he turned away instantly, as if unwilling to acknowledge me. _I knew Cullen well enough to know this was a bad sign._ Uneasily I followed Varric into Cullen’s study. To my surprise, Rose and Michel were already inside and quietly bickering amongst each other in Orlesian. They stopped as the party entered, refusing to indulge us with their quarrel.

Cullen and Rose glared at us, and if I was being truly paranoid I could have sworn at me in particular. Her ladyship shook her head in disapproval as I joined the group.

‘I suppose this meeting is for the best.’ informed Cullen solemnly. His eyes narrowed at Varric. ‘Although you really needn’t be here for this.’

Varric grinned, as if realising he would have a whole new book to write in this one meeting. ‘Nah Curly, I’m here for support.’ declined the rogue. ‘And you might need a third party's perspective.’

‘Which is why there are four other people in the room.’ muttered Cullen under his breath. ‘Fine.’. He extended a hand towards Michel and I. ‘You’ve clearly got something to tell us, so out with it. Best to rip the bandage off in one go rather than drag this out.’

Michel threw a perplexed look at the templar. ‘You know perfectly well why I’m here. To bring my wife back to Skyhold.’

Rose rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘And you brought _her _along with you for what reason?’

My brows lifted in surprise as all eyes fell on me. ‘What?’ I exclaimed. ‘Varric and I came along so Michel didn’t have to ride alone on Gherlan’s Pass in the middle of the night. Between my magic and Varric’s crossbow, Michel stood a better chance of reaching his wife in one piece.’

‘It’s true Rosey.’ affirmed Varric. ‘Michel was worried about you. You gotta at least give him credit for risking his own skin to make sure you were okay?’

‘That is the only reason they are here.’ added Michel. He threw a furious glare at Cullen. ‘And now I shall take my wife back to Skyhold. You’ve proven to be nothing but trouble since we’ve arrived.’

The templar sighed heavily, as if the Orlesian was boring him. ‘Just tell Rose the truth, Michel, and be done with it.’

‘What truth?’ demanded Michel. ‘You stand here with such smugness and dare to suggest I’m being dishonest to my wife?’

‘If you won’t say it then I will.’ informed Rose angrily. ‘Michel, I know you’re having an affair with Ophelia.’

‘_What?!_’ replied Michel, Varric and I in surprise.

‘No we’re not!’ I laughed, sharing a confused look with Michel. ‘_We’re not. _Why would you say such a thing?’

‘Because it’s the truth.’ informed Rose flatly. She shook her head angrily at me. ‘You swore to me there was nothing between you and my husband. But I should have known when you came sniffing around that day. Was everything you said to me in the garden a lie to throw me off the truth?’

‘I’m not sleeping with your husband.’ I informed a little more firmly. ‘It’s simply not true.’

‘Why would you think that?’ asked Michel in disbelief. ‘Did Cullen fill your head with suspicion and lies while you were here? Is that why you wish to stay? There is nothing going on between Ophelia and I. Rose, _please_, I am your faithful husband.’

‘Please,’ scoffed Cullen. ‘I found you both in bed the other day.’

Casting each other a frown, both Michel and I were utterly…._confused. _My mind scrambled for an instant where Cullen could have been referring to and my heart dropped as it finally dawned to me what he was talking about.

‘When I was passed out drunk?’ I answered doubtfully. ‘Are you talking about the other night?’

‘How many nights have you been sharing a bed?’ asked Cullen dryly. ‘I was only privy to the one I stepped into the morning before I left for Caer Bronach.’

Michel rolled his eyes in annoyance. ‘I wasn’t sleeping with her, I taking care of her.’

‘In her bed?’ laughed Rose in disbelief. ‘With all your armour taken off?’

The chevalier threw a disgusted look to the smirking templar. ‘So _he has_ been filling your head with nonsense. I suppose Cullen told you that just before you both rode off to Caer Bronach? Is that how this all played out? Rose my heart, you cannot trust this man. Do you not see how he twists the facts to turn you against me?’

‘I merely told Rose what I saw.’ replied Cullen nonchalantly. ‘You were both in Ophelia’s bed. A simpleton could put two and two together and realise what you were doing.’

The lady threw a pair of angry eyes to Michel. ‘You cheating bastard.’ scorned Rose. ‘After five months of marriage you go and do this to me.’

‘I did nothing.’ refuted Michel passionately. ‘_Nothing_!’

Lifting my hands to placate the angry couple before us, I was beginning to see why Rose and Cullen assumed something. ‘Look I know it seems suspicious but Michel is telling the truth. The other night I was drinking heavily at _The Cock and Bull _and became…well, terribly drunk. Isn’t that right Varric?’

Varric nodded, throwing a thumb at me. ‘Yeah Curly, we were knocking back _Magi Mead_ like it was going out of fashion.’

‘They were soused.’ affirmed Michel. ‘Varric passed out under the table.’

‘Guilty.’ nodded the dwarf.

‘And Ophelia was about to pass out on the table.’ explained Michel ‘She was in no condition to get herself back to her quarters so I escorted her.’

Rose rolled her eyes and Cullen joined her reaction with a scoff.

‘And how did your armour come off Michel?’ asked Cullen in disgust. ‘I walked in on you both snug in bed.’

‘What are you implying?’ replied Michel angrily. ‘I was watching over Ophelia because I thought she would choke on her own vomit that night. People die like that all the time. So I lay next to her awake for most of the night until in exhaustion I eventually drifted off to sleep. _So what!?_ I didn’t wish to rest in my full plate armour, forgive me for removing it. I had clothing on, it’s not as if I were naked in her bed.’. The chevalier turned to me in concern. ‘She was distraught and I couldn’t leave her in that state.’

‘Bullshit.’ replied Rose, refusing to believe her husband’s story. ‘Next you’ll be telling me your cock accidently fell into her.’

Michel laughed in disbelief at his wife’s aggression. ‘Rose this is not you? Why are you taking Cullen’s word over mine? I swear there is nothing going on between Ophelia and I. How many times must I say it!?’

‘Why were you distraught Ophelia?’ pressed Cullen, looking to me angrily. ‘Because you had to fuck two men in one night? That must have been trying for you?’

My mouth opened but no words came out. I was utterly gobsmacked by the crass accusations being hurled by the pair. Especially by Cullen. He had no reason to act so cruelly to me. Then again, he never needed a reason.

‘Her reasons were personal but they were worthy of concern.’ defended Michel. The chevalier threw a disgusted look at the templar. ‘_They were worthy of your concern_.’

Feeling like I was being swallowed up by the room as all eyes fell to me once more, I hesitated. Cullen and Rose glared at me with disdain, while I could feel Varric’s ears burning.

‘Why were you distraught?’ asked Cullen again.

My eyes turned coldly to Cullen’s as my heart thumped angrily in my chest. He needed to know and I needed to be able to say it.

‘You strike me with a riding crop until I’m bruised and bleeding and you have the nerve to ask that question?’ I asked icily. My eyes turned to the surprised faces in the room. ‘His sadistic pleasures took things too far that night and I couldn’t cope with it in the end. I left Cullen’s room and went to _The Cock and Bull_, where I proceeded to drink with Varric until we both passed out.’

Varric threw me a sympathetic look as he nodded solemnly. ‘Yeah Curly, she was drinking to forget something big. Sparrow and I spent about three hours downing a few bottles of _holy water._ And I can vouch she never drinks like that with me. Thank the fucking Maker or I’d be sitting on the Golden Throne long ago. I didn’t even remember Goldilocks being there until he mentioned it just then.’

Cullen shook his head at me, but his eyes were filled with hurt.

‘I wasn’t sleeping with her, Cullen.’ reassured Michel coldly. ‘I was taking care of her. Something you failed to do.’. The chevalier looked to his wife sincerely. ‘_Mon Cherie_, I would not cheat on you.’

Despite the ardent words of the chevalier, the lady still refused to believe him. She crossed her arms defensively and drew a step closer to the Knight-Commander. ‘Do not stand here and lie to me. I saw how willing you were to aid Ophelia with her mages the instant we stepped foot in Skyhold. And now you get caught in her bed and make up this ridiculous story? I know what you have done. It is the reason Cullen and I found comfort in each other. _Because of you both.’_

‘Comfort?’ frowned Michel, looking at the pair standing side by side. His body tensed, hesitating a moment before asking the dreaded question. ‘What does that mean?’

Looking to Cullen, my skin crawled. ‘What’s she talking about Cullen?’

The Commander leant back against his desk and held my attention as he bore his hurt eyes into mine.

‘What do you think?’ he whispered darkly.

‘We slept together.’ informed Rose. ‘Several times actually.’

‘That’s right.’ affirmed Cullen, refusing to tear his eyes from mine in some sadistic act that no doubt brought him pleasure. ‘As did the pair of you, whether you admit it or not. We know the truth.’

‘I refuse to lie.’ added Rose. ‘You both deserve the truth. And so do we.’

Michel’s pale face turned deathly white as he stared in disbelief at the pair. ‘You…_you slept with my wife?_’ he whispered furiously to Cullen. There was pain in his voice, as if he had been just stabbed with a blade into his beating heart.

‘_Oui_.’ replied Rose coldly. ‘Now is your turn to confess.’

‘How could sleep with him?!’ Michel asked in disbelief. ‘_You are my wife._ Does that not count for anything? Why would you throw away everything we have for this cruel maniac!?’

‘So it’s okay for you to cheat on your wives, but not the other way round?’ snorted Cullen. ‘Your double standards are legendary, Michel.’

Michel’s blue eyes blinked in confusion. ‘I’ve never cheated on Rose? You refer to my past relationship with Rochelle? _I was twenty-one!_ Have you never done a foolish thing in your youth? And yet you use that example to justify bedding my wife?!’

Shaking my head in disgust, I looked back at Cullen. ‘You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?’ I observed coldly. ‘Does your hate for Michel run that deep? To ruin his marriage in some crass form of revenge?’

Cullen threw a softer look towards the Orlesian woman beside him. ‘At first perhaps it crossed my mind, but no that was not the reason I made love to Rose.’

Rose revealed a small smile as she looked to the Commander affectionately.

‘_Made love?_’ echoed Michel in disbelief. ‘What is going on here? Have you both gone mad?! This lie you have weaved is unbelievable! Cullen, you utter bastard.’

Laughing bitterly, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing either. Yet in some cruel way it all made sense. ‘Michel this had nothing to do with your first wife.’ I observed bitterly. ‘Cullen wanted to pay us back from when we went to the Inn at Tanteridge all those years ago. He never forgave either of us, _despite the fact that he was fucking Mable Guildersleeve at the time_. So Cullen took Rose to Caer Bronach and slept with her.’

‘Is this the truth of it?’ asked Michel furiously, stepping closer to Cullen. ‘Did you take my wife for your own revenge?’

‘You’re sleeping with Ophelia, just admit it.’ replied Cullen impatiently. ‘This song and dance isn’t convincing Rose or I. Your shameful actions are the reason we are in this mess.’

Shaking my head, I looked back at the man with tears threatening to blind my eyes. ‘_Grow the fuck up Ophelia, this isn’t a game.’_ I echoed, repeating what Cullen had to me when he was drunk in my room. ‘When have you ever treated me as anything but a game? To fuck and punish and unleash your anger onto. To control and admonish whilst cruelly playing on my own insecurities until I’m driven into believing I’m the irrational one. You wonder why I push you away time and time again? _Because you push me away_. Every time…_every time_ _you push me away_. And now you have the audacity to crow over your triumph in bedding this woman before Michel and I? Exchange these love lost gazes in front of us as if Michel and I mean nothing to the pair of you!?’. Clapping darkly, I threw the pair a cold stare. ‘Congratulations on having an affair. You know what?'. Waving my hand at the pair, I turned to leave. ‘I don’t want anything to do with either of you.’. Pausing, I glared at Rose as a thought crossed my mind. My hand pointed sharply at Michel. ‘_But he loves you_. Michel only spoke of how happy you made him and how when he saw you walking down the aisle _he knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with_. You set your cap at the wrong man, Lady de Chevin.’. My eyes turned coldly to Cullen. ‘You’ll realise soon enough this one here isn’t worth the pain.’

‘I didn’t sleep with Ophelia.’ repeated Michel sternly. ‘I swore I would be faithful and I meant it. I’ve held to that.’

Sadly I looked to the tormented chevalier, who clearly was in as much shock as I. This wasn’t something we’d ever forget and I feared it would leave it’s mark in days to come.

‘If you could feel the pain we both feel right now you’d realise what a terrible mistake you’ve both made.’ I informed darkly. ‘There is nothing between Michel and I.’

‘Do not blame your infidelity on Ophelia or I.’ added Michel sharply. ‘We have done nothing, _and you everything.’_. Extending his hand, he reached for his wife. ‘Come with me now. You are to return to Lapin immediately.’

Rose looked desperately at Cullen. ‘I wish to stay.’

‘Then stay.’ implored Cullen. ‘You don’t need to go to Lapin because he says so.’

‘I’m her husband, Cullen.’ yelled Michel furiously. ‘Do you expect me to just let her stay here and sleep with you?! Stop getting in the way of our relationship. _She isn’t your wife._’

‘Perhaps you should have thought about that before you fucked Ophelia!’ roared Cullen.

‘I didn’t you imbecile!’ shouted Michel.

Rose lifted her hands to placate the men as they came face to face, ready to lay blows.

‘Whatever has been done has been done.’ informed Rose with a tremor in her voice. Her eyes turned miserably to Michel. ‘We need to talk, no? In private. Come, let us talk.’

****

The ride back to Skyhold was cloaked in silence. We’d only just cleared Lake Calenhad but it felt like we’d been journeying for weeks. Michel trotted beside me, unwilling to speak of what was exchanged between him and his wife. Yet Rose had remained in Caer Bronach and I could guess what her decision had been.

The chevalier’s sad blue eyes pressed hard on the red dirt road before him.

‘Do you…want to talk about it?’ I asked quietly, hoping to evade Varric’s curious ears.

The chevalier shook his head sternly. ‘No Ophelia.’

‘Okay.’ I replied quietly, turning my eyes back to the path.

‘Sometimes it helps, kiddo.’ added Varric uneasily, pulling on his neck chain. ‘You know, to work things out?’

Michel shook his head determinedly once more. ‘It won’t.’

‘Righto.’ replied Varric.

Pulling his reins sharply, the chevalier stopped his horse on the road. ‘I need to ride to Orlais.’ he declared suddenly, turning his head north. ‘I’m sorry my friends…there are things that must be done. I must go.’

‘Michel wait.’ I called out, but already the chevalier had galloped off.

Patting my arm, Varric nudged his head forward. ‘Leave him Sparrow, he’s got some thinkin’ to do. Let’s keep on going.’

‘_Fucking Cullen_.’ I cursed, holding the reins tight as I pressed on.

‘Yeah kid.’ sighed Varric. ‘Curly fucked up big time. And uh, for what it’s worth. Sorry kid. About..you know…Curly. Shit you think you know someone, eh? No wonder you drank me under the table. Are you okay?’

My attention focused on the distance, refusing to turn to my companion and betray the moisture welling in my eyes.

‘You know me, Varric.’ I replied stiffly, blinking back the tears. ‘I’ll be fine.’


	162. A Poem

_Dear Michel, _

_I hope this letter finds you and doesn’t end up in the hands of another Orlesian named Michel who’ll end up becoming my pen pal and I’ll be awkwardly obliged to write to in years to come. Honestly I didn’t really know where to send this so decided your manor in Lapin would be a start? And I don’t know your address so I vaguely instructed the messenger to deliver it to Ser Michel’s estate in Lapin. And then I remembered you had a place in Montsimmard. And Varric thought you might be in Alyons, so…I may have sent you several copies of the same letter at your various residences. Let’s hope one gets to you. _

_How are you? I know, I know; it’s an irritating question to ask when life casts a shadow. And why do we always feel an obligation to reply positively? I never understood that about people. But just know that I care. No matter what your answer is._

_Firstly, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about everything that has happened. I still can’t make sense of it? As Varric has said to me a hundred times this month; Cullen’s a miserable poltroon that’s gunna get what’s coming to him. I know you must be hurting terribly. And if I hadn’t been a complete nug and gotten so drunk that night at The Cock and Bull perhaps things would have been different? I’m so sorry. _

_Skyhold misses you but we understand your decision to remain in Orlais at the present moment. <strike>We’re worried</strike> No scrap that, I’m worried. I worry about you a lot. It’s been over a month since you rode to Orlais and no one has heard anything from you. Please let me know that you’re okay? Or not okay? Just let me know. And let me know what you’ve decided to do with this mission. Screw Cullen and the templar Order, if you don’t ever want to come back and aid them I understand. I know that’s likely what you’ll do. But selfishly I hope you’ll come back. I miss you. _

_Now don’t mock me with this! I penned something for you the other night and well…I hope it lifts your spirits a little wherever you are._

_Oh marvelous void of unknowing,  
a rich vein of golden hue,  
soft milk and honey flowing,  
purple wisteria by oceans blue._

_  
A lantern at your footsteps,  
silver light cast ashen bark,  
this path is fraught with missteps,  
as a chevalier walks the dark._

_Look to the south wind blowing,  
I hope it sets you free,  
and if by chance you listen,  
you’ll come home back to me._

_And for what it’s worth….I’ll be here for you. Always._

_Your friend, _

_Ophelia_

‘Thank you Alexandre.’ nodded Michel, folding the letter and placing it in his coat pocket. ‘Have any other letters arrived? Anything from Caer Bronach?’

The butler swallowed uneasily as he retrieved a large parcel sitting on the antique table by the front door. It had been delivered to Michel’s manor in Lapin that morning while the chevalier had been out attending to business.

‘This came today from Val Royeaux.’ informed Alexandre, handing over the package to his lord. ‘It was delivered by a Chantry brother acting on behalf of Lady Rose. I was instructed that they ah…need this to be signed as soon as possible.’

The chevalier accepted the parcel from his butler with a stiff jaw and commenced to rip open the package. With a frown Michel discovered a large parchment bound document which he flipped through, cursing quietly under his breath in Orlesian as his eyes perused the pages.

‘She seeks an annulment on the grounds that the marriage was not consummated!’ laughed Michel bitterly, reading the pages in disbelief. ‘Can you believe such a thing?’

The butler remained respectfully silent, despite the shocked expression on his face. It was not a butler’s position to betray personal feelings involving matters of the master of the house.

‘It’s fine, speak your mind.’ encouraged Michel, examining another page with a roll of his eyes before turning to the next. ‘You have my word I will not be offended. I’ve revealed the details to you of this terrible affair already. Such private matters prevent me from being able to seek counsel from my general acquaintances.’. The chevalier sighed as he further read the document. ‘Yes Alexandre, I would welcome another’s opinion at this moment.’

‘With all respect Ser Michel, her ladyship seeks to annul your marriage based on a blatant lie!’ blurted out the butler, glad to accept his master’s wishes. ‘We all know you’ve consummated the marriage as much as any newly wedded couple would. The walls are terribly thin, my apologies. And well, pardon my direct observation but; _Lady Rose has openly admitted she has committed adultery with a commoner!_ _A Ferelden commoner!_ She has insulted the de Chevin name. You have every right to argue that before the Chantry. Under Chantry law you would be recognised as the wounded party and receive compensation and a public apology from the Doucy household.’

Considering his butler’s advice, Michel rubbed his jaw curiously. ‘Marquis Lothair Doucy is aware of the real reason his daughter seeks divorce. When I returned here to Orlais he was the first person I contacted regarding this matter.’

‘And did he not urge his daughter to return home?’ inquired the butler. ‘Forgive me for speaking out of line, but the Marquis should have ordered her back _and publicly apologised to you.’_

Michel sighed, recalling his meeting with his father-in-law. ‘He sent out a message to Caer Bronach the day I told him about her affair. It was short and direct to the point; _come home or else._’

‘And what did her ladyship say to that?’ asked the butler curiously.

‘She refused her father’s wishes and informed him she would be staying in Crestwood for the foreseeable future.’ replied Michel, clearly unimpressed with his wife’s decision. ‘Lothair was _furious_. I don’t need a public apology from the gentleman, he’s already suffering as it is. And he’s dealing with such a terrible set of circumstances that will bring shame to his family. Yes the de Chevin name has been insulted, but the Doucys have to carry the burden of the disgrace.’

‘The other day when your uncle came to visit. Comte de Chalons appeared quite…ah…’ observed Alexandre uneasily, unwilling to finish the sentence.

‘_Filled with a barbarian rage_?’ suggested Michel, nodding his head as if he was well aware. ‘Yes he feels very angry at Lothair for arranging a marriage with a daughter who does not uphold the sanctity of marriage. Uncle believes she is a woman with loose morals. His words, not mine. He believes Rose’s true character was intentionally concealed by the Marquis.’

‘Her actions cannot be described in any other way.’ observed Alexandre. ‘The ladyship that I knew would never have betrayed you. No, I am convinced she must have concealed her true nature.’

Michel shook his head, disagreeing with the butler. ‘Most of the lords in Orlais carry on with mistresses on the side. And if you had spent as much time in Halamshiral as I did you’d know as many ladies follow the same suit. I had many married noble women inviting me to their manors for private suppers and other intrigues. It is the way of some, I suppose? But I know Rose, she is not one to do such things. Cullen managed to deceive her into thinking I was cheating on her. I’m sure she initially acted out of spite. Although now it seems their union has grown strong and I am the third party?’

The chevalier sighed, as if the whole matter had exhausted him. He walked to his butler’s tray and poured himself a glass of liquid amber from the elegant ship’s decanter. Taking a sip, Michel turned back to his butler.

‘But yes to confirm your suspicions, Comte de Chalons is livid. Uncle believes Lothair knew about Rose’s deceitful nature yet concealed it from him in order to secure a union with the de Chalon line. You think my marriage being over is a disaster? _Mon dieu!_ Those two families bickering are making my troubles seem almost non-existent.’ . The chevalier shrugged, taking another sip from his glass. ‘No matter the reason, it is now public knowledge that Marquis Doucy’s daughter sought divorce and chooses to live in a templar encampment in Ferelden. Before too long rumours will spread that she shares her bed out of wedlock with a Ferelden peasant. It is a terrible blemish on their impeccable reputation.’

Unenthusiastically Michel picked up the Chantry document and proceeded to his writing desk in the sitting room. Elegantly he swished his tailcoats back as he sat, drawing a quill from the inkpot.

‘Rose has sensitive information of a personal nature regarding myself that I wish to remain private.’ explained the chevalier. ‘That is why I must not fight her on this one. And even if I wished to, Uncle certainly would forbid any attempt of a reconciliation now. My family’s honour, of the de Chalons and de Chevin name, dictates that any connection with the Doucy family is now considered to be a reprehensible connection.’. Elegantly he signed the document, blowing air onto the ink before handing it to his butler. ‘Please send this back to the Chantry immediately. If Rose wishes an annulment then at least I can say I did something to make her happy in the end.’

‘Of course.’ replied Alexandre, taking the document off his master with a sad smile.

Retreating from the room with a bow, the butler left Michel to himself. The chevalier frowned, casting his eyes around the sitting room filled with trinkets and furniture all introduced by his wife. The harpsichord she loved to play remained closed, and her penchant for long jacquard curtains were collecting dust by the large Orlesian windows.

His attention fell to a wedding portrait sitting on his desk, framed in gold. It was of Michel and Rose on their wedding day, standing outside the Cathedral as they kissed. Michel lifted it, examining the strange smiling couple that now felt so foreign.

‘Another marriage over.’ observed Michel sullenly.

He placed the frame face down on his desk so as not to see their happy smiles.

‘I arranged a sale of the property today.’ informed Michel loudly, causing his butler to return to the room in surprise.

‘This estate is-’

‘To be sold. Yes.’ affirmed Michel solemnly. ‘My heart was sad to say goodbye to the magnificent forest bordering our property but there’s too many memories here to prevent me from moving on.’. Noticing the disheartened expression on his butlers face, the chevalier threw him a warm smile. ‘Fear not, I will be keeping all my staff from this estate. As we speak I am looking for a new property here in Lapin to purchase, and when I find something suitable we shall move to that estate. My sale contract permits us three months to find a place before we must hand the keys to the new owners. Until then you are all to remain here.’

Alexandra appeared relieved. ‘You are a very good master that cares for his staff. I’ve never served in a household where all the staff speaks so highly of their lord. It is an honour to serve you.’

Michel nodded in appreciation. ‘Thank you Alexandre.’. He pursed his lips, taking in the room again. ‘I’m going to need you to arrange an auction of the furnishings. Everything is to be sold, right down to the dishes that we eat off. I do not wish any memory of this marriage to follow me to my new home. And Rose has instructed for her personal possessions, clothing and such, to be sent to Caer Bronach.’

‘The audacity!’ exclaimed Alexandre indignantly.

‘I know.’ agreed Michel in mutual disapproval. ‘Pack her belongings and send them to her father’s estate in Val Royeaux. Perhaps she will accuse me of being mean spirited, but I shan’t facilitate her move to Crestwood. If she desires her possessions she can return to her father in Orlais and collect them herself. Thank you Alexandre, that will be all for now.’

With an elegant bow, the butler swiftly departed to attend to his duties.

The quiet of the room caused Michel to stir uneasily. He did not enjoy living in a household with no people aside from him and his serving staff. The soft ticking of the long clock taunted him in deliberate strokes and swiftly he stood, exiting the through the main door and retreating to the gardens.

By the large trunk of an oak tree, the chevalier paused to take a deep breath. His hand lifted to his pocket, withdrawing the correspondence he had recently received.

Opening the letter, Michel read the words softly to himself.

_  
Look to the south wind blowing,  
I hope it sets you free,  
and if by chance you listen,  
you’ll come back home to me._

'_Ma vhenan a ma vhenas.' _murmured Michel.

Running his thumb over the words, he folded the letter once more and placed it back in his pocket with a gentle pat.


	163. Tall, Dark and Handsome

\

The horns of the Templar Order sounded across the mountains as the Templars approached Skyhold. Seven weeks since the last garrison switched over, finally fifty new Templars were arriving with their Knight-Commander and Knight-Captain leading the party.

Jowan rolled his eyes upon hearing the blaring hum echoing in the distance. Ascending the spiral staircase from the main keep up into the library, he treaded swiftly up to the first floor. His dark eyes darted out the narrow window in the library, noticing a procession of red flags approaching at a steady pace.

‘So the dense country baked loaves of your Order finally return.’ observed Jowan dryly, throwing a swift glance to Cassandra as he bypassed her desk. ‘You must tell me one day why they insist blowing horns to announce their arrival. I mean, _who cares?_ Does every mundane action need to be heralded like a victory? I’m surprised they don’t blow a horn every time their Knight-Commander visits the latrine.’

The Seeker refused to comment as Jowan passed wispily by her work space, intent on perusing a nearby bookshelf one row behind her. The mage examined the books curiously, running his finger along the leather spine of a dusty volume when he suddenly heard the soft crying of a woman behind him.

‘Cassandra?’ frowned Jowan, withdrawing his hand from the book he was about to retrieve.

Wiping her tears hastily with her hands, Cassandra remained quiet as Jowan stood before her desk.

The man lifted his dark brows in surprise, surprised that Cassandra was capable of crying real tears. He ran his hand to his black robes, moving aside the material to reach into his trouser pocket, producing a neat folded handkerchief.

'It's clean.' Jowan informed, offering the hanky with a nod of encouragement for her to take it.

‘Thank you.’ murmured Cassandra as she accepted the handkerchief, blotting her moist eyes.

‘Have you got allergies?’ Jowan inquired, deciding that was the most logical explanation for the Seeker to be blowing her nose into his handkerchief. ‘It’s the pollen from the Dales.’. He pointed doubtfully at the open window blowing air into the library beside her desk. ‘You’re not doing yourself any favours by keeping that open. The embrium spores come across the mountains and make you sneeze all the way into winter.’

Cassandra shook her head as she wiped her face. Pointing to the large book before her, her voice trembled in despair. ‘He-e-e’s... d-d…dead.’

‘Dead?’ echoed Jowan. ‘’Who’s dead?’

‘_Guardsman Donnic is dead_!!!!’ replied Cassandra loudly, bawling her eyes out as she slumped across the book. Her pale knuckles grasped the pages and threatened to tear the pages straight from the text. ‘Varric killed him off. He…he…he killed Donnic off like he meant nothing! He wrote that a foul woman, _a Seeker_, named Cassandrus ordered Donnic to be hanged, drawn and quartered in the town square. His execution goes on for five chapters and, oh Jowan, it’s terrible!!! The pain Donnic suffered before he died was horrendous. Cassandrus quarters him herself! _While he’s still alive!!_’

The mage turned away, unable to conceal his amused smile. Drawing a deep breath he willed it away and returned to the woman with a sympathetic expression.

‘I’m so terribly sorry.’ consoled Jowan, stepping closer to the sobbing woman. He patted her arm uneasily, as if patting a dangerous wolf. ‘There, there. I’m sure it was an integral part of the storyline.’

‘Donnic is a member of the city-guard, he’s not a criminal deserving torture and execution!’ snapped Cassandra furiously, her grief now transforming into anger. ‘Guard-Captain Aveline’s one true love is Donnic. They went through so much to be together. And Aveline had just found out she was carrying Donnic’s child! It was integral to the storyline that Donnic lived on to have that beautiful family he had always wanted. And now…_he’s dead_.’. She shook her head as her lip quivered. ‘_He’s dead_.’

Curiously closing the book on Cassandra’s desk, Jowan smirked as he read the title.

_Swords and Shields 3: Vengeance_ _– by Varric Tethras_

‘Did Varric just give this to you?’ asked the mage sympathetically.

‘He’s not talking to me.’ muttered Cassandra. ‘But I found this on my desk this morning. The third instalment of Sword and Shields. I’d been waiting years for this to be released.’

Jowan nodded, knowing all too well that Varric’s hatred of Cassandra has grown stronger now that she had returned. ‘Our roguish wordsmith finds unique ways to torture you. I’m sorry.’

‘He was so beautiful, Jowan.’ sobbed Casandra. ‘Donnic was so beautiful. He had a strong jaw and nose, and was very tall, with dark brown eyes and black hair. Just like you. And everything he said and did was perfect. He saved Aveline from being kidnapped by Don Roderigo!’

Jowan tilted his head curiously at Cassandra, a curl growing on his lips. ‘Just one moment. Did you just say I look like…_Guardsman Donnic_?’

Her cheeks went bright red as Jowan revealed a delighted wicked grin.

‘N-no-no. I said he had dark hair like you.’ replied Cassandra sheepishly.

‘Oh I don’t know?’ teased Jowan, his jaw revealing a wide smile. He ran a playful hand through his long black hair. ‘I’ve dark hair and eyes,’ he observed, running his hand to his nose and then along his jaw. ‘And I’ve your typical defined Ferelden jaw and nose. I always thought it was a little on the long side? Never mind, let’s just call it _well defined_. Oh and I’m very tall!’. Jowan laughed wickedly to himself. ‘And naturally everything I say and do _is perfect_.’

Cassandra tried to conceal a small smile behind her hands as she blotted her cheeks.

‘You can call me Donnic if you like?’ continued Jowan mischievously. ‘I could wear a city guard outfit if you want? Would that help? Should I go put one on now for you? I look rather becoming in a leather cuirass.’

Cassandra laughed, shaking her head. ‘No please don’t!’

‘Well just say the word and I’ll rescue you from Don Roderigo.’ laughed Jowan. He raised his hands firmly at the woman. ‘But please Cassandrus, you must promise not to quarter me for five chapters.’

‘I cannot promise that.’ laughed Cassandra, blotting her eyes. ‘Thank you Jowan, I needed to get that off my chest. I know it’s just a silly story but that story got me through some of my darkest times.’

Jowan nodded pleasantly. ‘Perfectly understandable. Well I best be off. For some reason I think we should all prepare ourselves for the return of the Knight-Commander.’

Cassandra stood up, her smile fading into a frown. ‘Yes I think I need to welcome our Knight-Commander back and personally thank him for ruining any chance we had of using the Eluvian to access the Fade.’

‘Any word from Michel?’ asked Jowan.

The Divine shook her head. ‘No.’

The mage shrugged. ‘It’s hard to imagine that Michel will help the Templars now, not when the Knight-Commander of their order stole his wife. I heard-’. Jowan stopped himself, waving his hand. ‘Never mind.’

‘What?’ asked Cassandra curiously.

‘It’s just gossip.’ dismissed Jowan.

The Seeker stepped closer, her eyes lighting up curiously. ‘What did you hear?’

Jowan flashed a wicked grin. ‘Promise me this stays between us.’

Cassandra extended her smallest finger seriously. ‘You have my sworn oath.’ she replied.

Jowan revealed a grin, wrapping his finger around hers. ‘Okay, well I overheard Knight-Captain Sheldon say that Rose and Cullen are officially a couple down there at Caer Bronach. _They’re living together_.’

‘No!’ whispered Cassandra. ‘After being married to Michel she just moves into Cullen’s house? Just like that?!’

‘Like a good little wife.’ grinned Jowan. ‘Apparently they’ve already hosted a few dinners as a proper couple and everything is _oh so peachy_.’

‘Cullen hosting dinner parties with an Orlesian lady? And not just any lady, but Lady de Chevin herself!’ scoffed Cassandra. ‘I never thought I’d see the day.’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘Yes it’s disgusting, I know. Can you imagine him serving hors d'oeuvres to his guests while discussing how charming the weather has been this time of year?’

The Seeker laughed as she imagined the scenario. ‘He’s boasting to his guests right now about how he hand stuffed cheese into squash blossoms all by himself.’

‘He’s roasting chestnuts by the fire and drinking Orlesian sherry out of those irritating thimble glasses.’ added Jowan mischievously. ‘You know he is.’

Cassandra’s lip curled in amusement before frowning once more as the reality of the situation struck her once more. ‘All jokes aside, Michel isn’t going to aid us in this mission, is he?’ she muttered.

‘I doubt it.’ observed Jowan. ‘Would you like me to start researching the Eluvians? I could see if there’s some way to crack this code. Or I could visit Michel and ask very nicely for him to write it all down. He might be willing to help from afar.’

Cassandra revealed a devious glint in her brown eyes as she began to leave the library. ‘Perhaps you should wait until he returns?’ she called out. ‘If I know Michel de Chevin he has unfinished business with our Knight-Commander. He may not want to aid us with the Eluvian, but I suspect he’ll be back to lay the final blow.’


	164. Love Lost

A meeting had been arranged that afternoon in the main hall on Cassandra’s instructions. It was called to discuss the progress of the mission, yet secretly we suspected the real reason. The Divine was rearing to give a proper dressing down to the Knight-Commander in front of us all. Eagerly Jowan and I made our way to the hall, pretending we were spending the afternoon at the Orlesian theatre and were keen to see a grand performance.

The Divine paced the main hall as Jowan and I arrived, throwing a sharp nod in acknowledgement as we waited for the rest of the party to arrive. Cassandra had certainly fallen back into her role of overseer with enthusiasm and I almost forgot we weren’t back in the Inquisition as I saw her there with a stern expression in the hall.

It had been seven weeks since Cassandra Pentaghast had arrived at Skyhold. While Knight-Vigilante Robard departed the keep a few days after arriving, determined to return to the Grand Cathedral, for some strange reason Cassandra had decided to stay. She claimed her presence was required to oversee the mission, and yet Jowan and I suspected something else encouraged her to stay. The Divine refused our offer of setting her up in a study of her own, or even taking her old study from Cullen, instead expressing her desire to conduct her business at a desk in the library of the main keep. It was a place where the Seeker had enjoyed spending much time in during the Inquisition, and perhaps there was sense to her choice? It was one of the cosiest places in the keep to while away the hours.

‘Where are they?’ complained Jowan, casting his eyes down the main hall. ‘Does it take that long to walk from the outside of the keep?’

The Seeker nodded in annoyance. ‘Yes, I told Cullen we’d meet at three.’

Half an hour dragged by and finally Knight-Commander Cullen arrived with Knight-Captain Arrus. Walking up the stairs to the keep, the pair appeared jovial in spirits which irritated me straight off the bat. The Templars were chuckling quietly between themselves as they walked into the hall, stopping to greet the room with pleasant smiles.

‘Cassandra, my apologies if you’ve been waiting.’ greeted Cullen, exchanging a warm handshake. ‘We completely lost track of the time. It’s wonderful to see you in Skyhold!’

Cassandra exchanged polite civilities with the Templars with a tight jaw, clearly unimpressed with the pair’s tardiness. Side by side, Jowan and I kept our distance with cold glares. Neither of us were about to entertain the Templars with handshakes and superficial questions about their journey up the mountain.

‘Since we’re all here now, let us begin.’ instructed Cassandra. ‘Cullen, while you were away in Caer Bronach we’ve been dealt with the unfortunate circumstance of Michel de Chevin’s departure from Skyhold. We’ve had no word from him and after seven weeks I think we can safely say he is not interested in aiding us with the Eluvian.’

Jowan threw a filthy look to the Knight-Commander. ‘No thanks to a certain templar who can’t keep it in his pants.’ he scathed.

The room grew uncomfortably quiet as all attention shifted to Cullen. We all were aware of his actions and were all eager to hear his official response.

‘Have you got something to say, Jowan?’ demanded Cullen icily. ‘Does my personal life upset you? Or are you just intent on making snaky jibes at me throughout this meeting?’. He turned his head to his Knight-Captain, who was also glaring coldly at the mage. ‘I don’t know about you but I came here to work?’

‘Aye Knight-Commander, my main concern is this mission.’ affirmed Arrus.

Cullen nodded seriously, turning back to Jowan. ‘Then perhaps we should keep the insults to a minimum and focus on this mission?’

‘Cretin!’ replied Jowan, snapping his fingers sharply at the templar. ‘Because of you we have no way to access the Eluvian now. Could you not have stolen any other man’s wife _aside from Michel de Chevin’s?_’

Unable to stop myself, I laughed at my friend’s comment. The Commander drew his eyes furiously at me, irritated at my silent amusement.

‘Michel was carrying on with Ophelia long before Rose and I, and somehow I’m the bad guy in all of this?’ Cullen observed angrily. ‘It’s not my fault he’s once again has done the dishonourable thing and gone back on his word. A promise, if you recall, that he made to all of us in this room.’

‘Like Rose de Chevin’s promise to be faithful to her husband, some promises can easily be broken.’ observed Jowan dryly.

‘Do not speak of Rose with such disrespect.’ warned Cullen.

Jowan crossed his arms playfully. ‘Defending her honour, are we? How _chivalrous_ you’ve become.’

‘Because of you we’ve not seen Michel since he left Caer Bronach.’ I informed angrily. ‘Do you really think if I was carrying on with Michel he’d just up and leave me and this mission? _No._ He’s gone back to Orlais because he’d be the biggest fool in Thedas to want to help you after what you did to him.’

‘Truly?’ frowned Cullen, turning to Cassandra who nodded in affirmation. ‘He’s made no contact?’

‘Yes Knight-Commander, once again I find my plans ripped to shreds because of your reckless behaviour. Might I remind you I have more authority now than I did as a member on the Inquisition Council. If you _ever_ use your personal agenda to disrupt my work again I will make you held fully accountable under Chantry law. This is your first and final warning_._’ replied Cassandra icily. Her stern eyes turned to me in acknowledgement. ‘Michel has not made contact. Which suggests perhaps Michel and Ophelia were not involved and you owe them both an apology?’

‘Well said.’ agreed Jowan, crossing his arms smugly as he glared at the Templars. ‘Although it’s going to take more _than_ _that_ to undo the damage this blockhead has dealt.’

Clenching his fist, Cullen glared at the mage angrily. ‘Shut it or I’ll make you.’

‘_Make me_.’ hissed Jowan darkly, a sinister smile on his face. It was apparent he was enjoying taunting the Knight-Commander a little too much.

Perhaps wishing to divert the impending fight with a blue flame, Knight-Captain Arrus interrupted, drawing the topic back to the mission. ‘Knight-Commander Cullen and I were interested in practicing some mock scenarios of the mages and Templars working together.’ Arrus suggested. ‘Some tactical situations to work through as a team, with us pretending to be in the Fade?’

‘Pretending to be in Fade is all you can ever hope to achieve since Michel won’t aid us with the Eluvian.’ observed Jowan sharply. ‘Have you not been listening? Your Templars being a part of this mission has officially come to an end. While mages can freely access the Fade, _your Order cannot_.’

‘We can find a way.’ muttered Cullen.

Jowan clapped his hands cynically. ‘Oh brilliant, such a wonderful suggestion. I guess that’s solved now.’

‘Yes thank goodness we waited half an hour to hear that solution.’ I muttered under my breath, causing my mage companion to snort in amusement.

‘Inspirational isn’t it?’ jibed Jowan.

‘Haven’t you got anything better to add to this meeting?’ chastised Cullen. ‘We’ve just finished a long ride from Crestwood and don’t need to listen this. Not an hour back at Skyhold and I’ve had enough of you fucking mages.’

‘I’d try to make your stay more pleasant but unfortunately I don’t have a wife that you can steal from under my nose.’ quipped Jowan.

‘Enough!’ yelled Cassandra, flashing her angry eyes between our two parties. ‘You will need to learn to get along better than this if we stand a chance against Sapientes. Yes, Michel is not here. Yes, it is unfortunate. But now we must adjust our plan and come up with another solution that involves a way for mages _and Templars_ to enter into the Nephilim Realm and defeat this demon. This is the only thing either of you should be focusing on right now.’

‘Of course, we are acting like children.’ apologised Cullen. ‘My Knight-Captain and I will consult our Order and see if there is any other people who might aid us with the Eluvian.’

Cassandra pointed at Jowan and I sternly. ‘Knight-Captain Arrus made a good suggestion. You are to practice with the Templars. Perhaps we cannot bring them into the Fade at present, but I want them to learn how to work with your magic. Not against it. Make sure it happens.’

‘Yes Cassandra.’ Jowan and I muttered, exchanging annoyed glances. Neither of us wished to start training with the Templars.

Flinging her hand to the entrance of the hall, the Seeker beckoned us to leave. ‘You all have work to do, _so go work_.’

***

Marching down the hallway, I refused to acknowledge Cullen as I passed him by the fire pit. I could sense him trying to say something as I walked by but I refused to stop.

Upon learning he’d slept with Rose I’d decided I never wanted anything to do with Knight-Commander Cullen ever again. His ability to sleep with another woman so unapologetically validated my decision more than anything else. Cullen’s actions towards me and my mages in the last few months had also validated that decision.

Skipping down the stone staircase from the main hall, I ignored the Templar’s calls for me to stop. I flew through the courtyard and descended the next flight of crooked stone steps towards the stables, refusing to listen to Cullen close behind. It was only when I halted at the stables to check on my horse that Cullen caught up, making his way through the hay to address me.

‘Didn’t you hear me back there?’ exclaimed the Knight-Commander breathlessly, stepping between two large piles of manure. ‘I was talking to you!’

‘Cullen there’s no reason for us to speak.’ I informed flatly, running a hand across the sleek coat of my mare. ‘If you have mage related questions regarding this mission, speak to Jowan.’

The templar nodded seriously. ‘If that is your wish, I respect that. But I came here to apologise.’

‘For being an arsehole?’ I replied dryly. ‘Well you’re about seven years too late.’

Cullen frowned. ‘I probably deserve that? Look I’m starting to realise that perhaps Rose and I may have been wrong about Michel and you? Rose mentioned to me a while back that she believed Michel was telling the truth. I had my doubts but the fact that he’s disappeared and not returned to Skyhold suggests perhaps we were wrong? Or you’ve had a lover’s tiff and that is the reason he stays away?’

‘_You were wrong._’ I corrected angrily. ‘You both cheated on faithful partners. That is why Michel won’t help you with the Eluvian now.’

‘It wasn’t my intention.’ muttered Cullen, stroking my horse with his firm hand. ‘You have to admit what I walked in on strongly suggested that-‘

‘-you and Rose are cheating bastards and not me or Michel?’ I observed bitterly. ‘Yes. And don’t you dare try to rationalise your cheating with me. You tossed me aside the moment another woman offered you a crumb of interest. That’s the truth of it.’

‘What has happened has happened.’ dismissed Cullen tiredly. ‘There’s nothing to be done about it. But Ophelia, as painful as it is you need to know that I care about Rose. _A lot._ And she cares for me. We’re-‘

‘I don’t care.’ I replied, cutting him off once more. ‘I really…just don’t care.’

The templar appeared surprised, as if he’d expected me to start yelling or crying. Placing a hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword by his side, the Knight-Commander examined me quietly.

‘Before I left we were in a relationship together.’ observed Cullen quietly. ‘Are you really standing here with indifference? After you said you loved me and I said I loved you. _I’m here apologising because I know I’ve hurt you_.’

‘Come on, be serious.’ I sighed impatiently, picking up the grooming brush in the stall. With long sweeps I brushed my horse’s brown coat and wished I could ride off and not listen to this Templar’s bullshit. ‘If we truly loved each other you wouldn’t have slept with Rose and I wouldn’t be standing here now telling you I’m not too concerned. When we reunited in Caer Bronach I thought things could be different for us. But you’ve changed and so have I. We’re not the Inquisitor and Commander anymore. And whatever we professed, we never meant it. We didn’t love each other.’

Cullen sighed heavily, drawing a hand to his brow. ‘We did love each other, Ophelia. It just wasn’t a good idea, you and I. I should have listened to you. You were right about that.’

Shaking my head, I knew Cullen would always struggle to understand my feelings. When we were together he was completely detached from them. And now would be no different.

‘_You didn’t love me_.’ I clarified. ‘When I told you of my hopes for us in future days you told me to grow the fuck up.’. I laughed darkly shaking my head. ‘And the next thing I know, you’ve stolen Michel’s wife and are acting out that future that I hoped for. _With her,_ _right before my very eyes_. It’d be downright tragic if I didn’t find it slightly hilarious.’

His jaw remained rigid as he stared at me solemnly. ‘I didn’t think we could have a future _like that_ but I did love you.’

‘So you stole Michel’s future instead?’ I observed sharply. ‘There’s no need to dissect this. You’re with Rose. I don’t love you. It is what it is. We can move on.’

‘That’s very mature of you.’ replied Cullen icily. ‘Lucky for me I took the opportunity to move on. At least we can move on knowing where we stand.’

‘As nothing more than mage and templar, there is no friendship here.’ I dismissed. ‘Don’t think you can return to that level with me. You were cruel and I won’t forgive you for that. I want _nothing_ to do with you outside this mission. I want nothing to do with you.’

‘As you wish.’ replied Cullen rigidly.

I paused, taking a moment to look at the templar before me. His rich amber eyes and sandy jaw, strong neck and muscular frame. In isolation, these were the features I swooned for and yet in their entirety they revealed a man that I couldn’t understand.

Cullen’s amber eyes grew softer for a moment as he looked to me. ‘What Michel mentioned in Caer Bronach gave me a lot to think about. About you being upset after _our night together_ _in my study_? Look, I never intended to hurt you. I’m sorry, my behaviour was rough. You bring out that side in me at times.’

‘Apology accepted.’ I replied icily, furious at him for implying that I was partially to blame. ‘I can forgive you for that. But not for everything.’

‘Like what?’ asked Cullen sternly.

Locking eyes with him furiously, the words spilled from my mouth before I even knew I was saying them. ‘You drove Michel away from my life….. _and I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.’_

Patting my horse, I left the glowering templar behind with a deep breath of relief.

****

It was late in the evening as I retired from my day’s work. The return of the Templars had encouraged me to throw myself vigilantly back into our mission in order to ignore their irritating clanking of steel as they practiced in the courtyard. I’d been learning the basic steps of blood magic from Jowan, and unfortunately the first step was to understand how to draw it without hitting a vein. An impossible task for Cullen perhaps, but I was beginning to see how difficult the procedure _actually was_. For hours each day I carefully studied various books Jowan recommended to introduce me into the arts. Making the unwise decision to skip a few chapters, to my horror I ended up reading what spells one could cast if you drained a victim of all their blood. Shutting the book closed in disgust, I decided at the point my studying was done for the day.

Jowan was busy writing away in a journal as I entered the war room that evening. Without a word I proceeded directly to the war table, my mind troubled with my own concerns.

‘Have we received any letters from Orlais?’ I asked hastily, rummaging through the mess on our desk.

A book slipped from a stack and accidentally knocked the inkpot across Jowan’s work, causing a river of black to coat the desk. The mage groaned, pushing me aside as he blotted the spilled ink with his sleeve.

‘Two from Ferelden and one from Nevarra.’ he replied irritably. His dark eyes flashed at me. ‘_None from Orlais_. And don’t think asking about the mail three times a day for the last two months hasn’t taken its toll on me. I’m beginning to fear the messengers whenever they come.’

Helping my companion wipe the desk, I poured a little water onto the wood and scrubbed it with a stack of blank parchments.

‘Michel could have fallen off his horse or been robbed on the way back to Orlais.’ I observed fearfully, rubbing the ink and noticing my hands growing blacker by the second. ‘And who’s to know Michel even got back safe? He could be lying in the forest somewhere? He could be unconscious from a branch of a tree that hit him.’

‘If he fell from his horse and has been lying in the forest for two months I’d assume he’s dead by now.’ quipped Jowan dryly.

My eyes darted painfully to the mage as he smirked.

‘Joke.’ added Jowan.

‘Not funny.’ I frowned, turning away from the table. ‘Not funny at all.’

Pinching his fingers, Jowan grinned. ‘Just a little?’

‘No.’ I grumbled, retreating to the wooden chest that Michel had given us months back.

Sitting in the corner of the room, the chest was no longer as full as it once was, and all of the good stuff had already been consumed by Jowan and Varric. Grabbing a half-eaten packet of stale Orlesian crackers I began to scoff them miserably with my ink stained hands.

‘Jowan, I realise he’s not coming back but he could have replied to my letters? Or just sent word to Skyhold. He must blame me for what happened?’

‘You didn’t do anything, you numbskull.’ dismissed the mage, joining me to pluck a jar of toffees from the chest. ‘Why would he blame you for Cullen sleeping with his wife?’

‘Maybe I should go to Orlais to see if he’s okay?’ I suggested, crunching through another cracker. ‘Just a quick visit to Monstimmard? Maybe I’ll ask around the town? Perhaps someone has spotted him in the township?’

‘Spoken like a true stalker?’ teased the mage.

‘I just need to know he’s alive.’ I frowned. ‘If that requires a bit of stalking then so be it. I’m completely fine with that.’. Pinching my lip nervously, I pondered where to go. ‘Varric has gone to the apiary in Alyons many times. Perhaps I could go there first and interrogate the staff a little. They must have the addresses of Michel’s estates. Or perhaps it’s best to go straight to the Emperor? If his chevalier has gone missing he’ll want to know about it.’

Jowan popped a toffee into his mouth with a smirk, coming to a revelation that amused him greatly. ‘My my, I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.’

‘See what?’ I asked dryly, snatching a toffee from the jar.

The mage fell silent in contemplation, eyeing me up and down as he smirked. 

‘What?’ I moaned, not willing to play guessing games with the mage when there were more pressing issues at hand. ‘Just say what you’re thinking.’

‘You care for him, _don’t you_?’ observed Jowan, popping another toffee into his mouth with a grin. ‘The chevalier leaves us but he’s not left your mind even for a second.’

Avoiding the stare of my amused companion, I turned back to the chest to see what else I could devour. Miserable dried pecans. Salted jerky. An opened jar of berry jam missing several scoops. Anything would do.

‘Yes I wondered why you were _so angry with him in Denerim_ when we held that meeting in the Landsmeet Chamber.’ observed Jowan smugly. ‘And then your reaction upon seeing Rose when she came to Skyhold, as if it were some great insult that Michel chose to marry someone _so different to yourself_? And let’s not forget when I caught you watching him with his shirt off that time on the battlements.’

Noticing me about to protest, Jowan waved his hand.

‘Don’t pretend to me that you weren’t. Oh and you were willing to risk your neck on Gherlan’s Pass just to keep that chevalier safe.’

‘It was the right thing to do.’ I replied defensively.

The mage pointed at my top sharply. ‘You wear that _ridiculous blue jumper_ that Michel gifted in our chest _all the time_. Including now. And you’ve become obsessed with letters, to the point where I’ll never look at a letter the same ever again. No, this is different to your shallow declarations of love in the past to that idiot templar. Your behaviour suggests you actually do have feelings for Michel. And you know the saying; actions speak louder than words.’

‘Of course I care about him.’ I replied darkly, opening a packet of pecans with a disenchanted pull of the string. ‘Michel supported us and our mages, and he’s offered nothing but compassion every step of the way. Even when I was drowning my sorrows in mead, Michel was there to take care of me. And I admire his character. His sensitive nature in this harsh world sings to me. His beauty radiates from within and it breaks my heart when people like Rose refuse to embrace his elven heritage. It's who Michel is. No one realises how important that is to him, moreso than being a chevalier or Orlesian noble. He begun his life as someone so different to who he is now and yet that inner part of him never changed. That wonderful and kind hearted half-elven boy that was so full of joy and love is there burning brightly within Michel. I can see him. And he's perfect, Jowan. Michel is perfect. Your cunning detective skills should be put to better use. I won’t stand here and deny that I care about Michel.’

‘Don’t act so pleased about it.’ mused Jowan.

My eyes lifted to my friend solemnly. ‘It doesn’t matter what my feelings are because Michel’s chosen not to return my letters, or even return to Skyhold. _Don’t you see?_ He doesn’t feel the same as I do for him.’

‘A rather melodramatic conclusion.’ pointed out Jowan, grabbing a pecan from my hand. ‘Michel is clearly very hurt his wife has betrayed him. It’s been months yes, but perhaps a broken heart takes longer to heal?’

‘He’ll never get over her.’ I dismissed. 

‘Oh yes, I’m sure Michel will forever be pining away for the woman that left him at the drop of a hat for his arch-enemy. Only months after she’s been married to Michel she’s now shaking sheets with Cullen Rutherford. Such tales _just pull_ _on the heart strings_.’ mused Jowan, popping the pecan in his mouth with a grin. ‘Does Michel know you have feelings for him?’

Shaking my head, I knew there was no way he could know. ‘Why would I tell him that? Michel had moved on. He finally had the happy life he’d always wanted.’

‘Until Cullen went and ruined it for him.’ chuckled Jowan, shaking his head in amusement. ‘What an utter pleb.’

‘I just want to know that he’s okay.’ I frowned. ‘That’s all that matters to me. Michel’s experienced a lot of sadness in his life. Perhaps you don’t see it behind that jovial face he presents to the world, but I know him better than most. There’s only so much sadness he can endure. He’s brave but even the bravest can be brought to their knees in this harsh world.’

Jowan frowned, realising what I implying. ‘You’re not worried he’s been hit by a fallen branch. You’re worried he’s swinging from a branch in the woods.’

‘I don’t want to think that.’ I replied quietly, my heart beating painfully at the thought.

‘_Then don’t_.’ urged Jowan. ‘Your mind fears the worst, that’s all.’. The mage threw me a sad smile. ‘Come on, let’s stop gorging ourselves on the Orlesian leftovers and go get some dinner in the main hall.’. He paused, shaking his head. ‘Actually, let’s go to The Cock and Bull. I’m not in the mood for rat stew tonight.’


	165. Wherever the Road Leads Us

Plumes of air erupted from the white horse’s nostrils as it galloped along the road that morning. Lifted in his saddle with firm hands on the reins, the chevalier rode with determination.

Michel had departed Orlais at sunrise with a longing to stay, yet also an urge to go. He farewelled his manor in Lapin for one last time, riding down the driveway wistfully as he put to rest all his dreams of what he hoped would be. There would be no family of his own growing up in that manor. The Orlesian’s circumstances in life pulled and pushed him into a macabre comedy that he found little humour in, and with a bitter salute he rode away from his manor determined never to look back. 

As Michel pressed forward, he resided to his fate with valour in his heart. He knew that he had to return to the one place he loathed in order to secure the one thing that he cherished the most. And that is why he now rode hard, determined to reach his destination.

Michel squinted in the distance, surprised to see a rider galloping along the Imperial Highway towards him at great a speed. The chevalier patted his white horse’s mane calmly as he whispered reassuring words in elvish, waiting for the rider to pass.

A Ferelden soldier on a grey speckled mare finally approached, stopping a short distance from Michel in a cloud of red dust.

‘_Halt_!’ ordered the soldier sharply, examining the chevalier with caution. ‘Who are you and what business have you in these parts?’

Although surprised at being interrogated in such a remote area, the chevalier maintained his polite decorum. ‘I am Ser Michel of the noble Orlesian house of de Chevin. Chevalier and honour guard to Emperor Gaspard. Upon my Emperor’s orders I have business aiding in a matter of the Chantry and King Alistair of Ferelden.’. He lifted his gauntleted hand graciously to the distant mountains. ‘My travels lead me to Skyhold.’

The soldier nodded, eyeing up the chevalier to determine whether he was being truthful. ‘The south road to the Frostback Mountains is being monitored while our King journeys that way. I’ve orders to secure the Imperial Highway but if your mission is one ordered by my king perhaps you may wish to join the royal party up the mountain?’

‘It would be my honour.’ accepted Michel, throwing a warm hand forward. ‘Lead the way.’

After a short gallop along the Imperial Highway, Michel noticed a large entourage of knights and mercenaries flying the blue and gold banners of the Theirin coat of arms. He waited patiently before several stern knights as the soldier relayed the details of Michel’s journey to the king. Eventually the chevalier was escorted through the group to the head of the procession, where King Alistair rode alongside Leliana on two shiny black horses.

The Ferelden king threw a wide smile and a wave as the chevalier rode up beside him.

‘Ser Michel de Chevin.’ acknowledged Alistair in surprise, nodding to the chevalier.

Maintaining his grip on the reins, Michel lowered his head respectfully. ‘King Alistair, it’s an honour.’. His blue eyes lifted and turned curiously to the ginger haired woman riding beside the king. ‘Leliana, it is good to see you once more.’

‘Of all the people to cross our paths on this day?’ observed Alistair, turning to the smirking Leliana to exchange a smile before looking back to Michel. ‘My men inform me you’re going to Skyhold? I’d have thought you’d already have been up there aiding with the Eluvian?’

It was clearly a loaded question and Michel was aware that King Alistair would have been informed of the chevalier’s disappearance a few months prior.

‘No doubt you’ve been told of my absence from Skyhold.’ observed Michel politely. ‘I am deeply sorry for any delays; urgent business drew me back to Orlais for a short while. Now I return.’

Alistair nodded in approval. ‘That is good to hear. Cassandra mentioned to me that you were no longer aiding in the mission due to an unforeseen incident she advised wasn’t worth the details. I was deeply concerned it would impact on our success in this mission.’

‘I thought I could aid a little.’ added Leliana. ‘Not that I know anything of the Eluvians, but there were other ways I was made aware of during my time in the Fade. Other ways to access the Nephilim Realm. That is why we ride there now.’

Michel lifted his hand to his breast politely. ‘I will aid in any way I can with the Eluvian, I gave my word. Although I am very sorry for my lack of communication with the Chantry. My mind was distracted. It is no excuse, my behaviour reflected poorly as a chevalier to act with such disregard.’

‘Well you’re here now so all is well.’ dismissed Alistair ‘You’re welcome to join us as we venture up. I’m rather looking forward to a fine view of my kingdom from the mountain. I believe you can see as far as Jalneof, _although_ _some people beg to differ._’. His eyes darted playfully to the smirking woman beside him. ‘Leli and I are having a bet whether you can see the village off Finloch’s Ledge at the top of the mountain.

Leliana raised a brow at the king. ‘You’re going to lose. I know the view from there _very well_. You forget I use to live in Skyhold?’

‘Have you actually even been to Skyhold before?’ teased Alistair. ‘I’m beginning to doubt it or else you’d know you could see Jalneof from there. Nope, admit it you’ve never stepped foot in the keep. _Liar liar pants on fire_.’

‘Ugh, there’s no view past the valley of Redcliffe.’ dismissed Leliana, playfully shoving the king on the arm. ‘And I recall very well the last time I saw you in Skyhold because you came there uninvited. I wonder why? Probably because you’ve got no sense of geographics and no one likes you!’

‘Ouch.’ laughed Alistair. ‘Well at least I’m not a ginger with no friends.’

Leliana’s mouth opened in playful outrage but before she could blurt out an insult Alistair leant over and placed a kiss on her lips. The pair laughed, exchanging several pecks, unaware that a chevalier was staring at them in stunned silence.

Alistair and Leliana laughed, noticing the surprised look on Michel’s face.

‘Oops we’ve embarrassed Ser Michel.’ laughed Leliana.

‘Well that is fine thing indeed!’ chuckled Alistair. ‘Is our courtship that shocking, Ser Michel?’

In his usual manner Michel refused to betray anything that he felt with a polite smile.

‘_Au contraire_, I was just thinking that the pair of you appear very…. _happy_.’ observed the chevalier. He turned from Alistair to Leliana, portraying an air of genuine interest that no doubt came from spending too much time socialising in the Orlesian courts. ‘It is warming to see such intimacy. And my apologies, I was unaware that you both were in a relationship? What a blessing for you both to find such joy.’

Alistair threw Leliana a smile. ‘Yes it is a blessing. And I’m very happy these days.’

‘Me too.’ replied Leliana, clasping Alistair’s hand affectionately. Her green eyes darted back to Michel curiously. ‘Ser Michel, I heard that you too enjoy the happiness of another these days? Were you not recently married? One of the serving staff back at Denerim is Orlesian and fills me in with all the gossip from abroad. Apparently our chevalier wed the lovely daughter of Marquis Doucy. In the Grand Cathedral of Lydes! What a magnificent place to wed.’

Alistair lifted his brows in surprise. ‘Is that so? I never heard. Congratulations Michel on your nuptials!’

The chevalier nodded respectfully at the king. ‘Thank you, your Majesty.’

‘So how’s married life treating you?’ asked Alistair pleasantly, casting his eyes across the plains. ‘The first few months are always exciting, aren’t they? You’re starting a new life with this person and getting to know each other’s quirks along the way. Why they choose to leave their clothes scattered across the floor when there’s a perfectly good wardrobe right there in your room. Which side of the bed they prefer? Why they refuse to blow out their candle before sleeping. And then you end up developing a phobia that the bed curtains are going to catch on fire and you’ll burn to death in your sleep.’

Leliana laughed at the man. ‘Who did that? First or second wife?’

Alistair rolled his eyes. ‘Both.’

‘Every woman scatters her clothes on the ground!’ pointed Leliana with a laugh. ‘I do. Michel, does your wife leave clothes on the floor? I bet she does!’

Michel shifted uneasily in his saddle as he realised he couldn’t skirt around the truth while his companions were intent on speaking about the joys of marriage.

‘Unfortunately my marriage with Rose Doucy ended in divorce a few weeks ago.’ he informed, trying to ignore the surprised looks from his companions.

‘I’m so sorry to hear it.’ exclaimed Alistair, casting an uncertain eye to Leliana.

Out of respect Alistair did not further press the chevalier for details, however Leliana was less inclined to be as courteous.

‘How long were you married for?’ inquired Leliana.

‘A little over five months.’ replied Michel.

‘That’s not very long.’ frowned Alistair.

‘Was it a short courtship?’ pressed Leliana ‘Or did you both just simply grow apart?’

Michel held a dignified poise as he rode, unwilling to falter at her questions even if he had desired to. If it had merely been Leliana asking him, Michel would have politely informed her that the matter was personal and he did not wish to speak of it. And yet with the king involved in their conversation, Michel knew it was improper to tell a monarch to mind his own business.

‘Rose has fallen in love with another man.’ informed Michel with a simple nod. ‘It is unfortunate but there is nothing I can do about it now.’

Alistair flicked his brows, as if silently implying the chevalier may have had been served his just desserts. Stirring in his saddle in irritation, Michel acknowledged the gesture of the king and the history they both shared with Ophelia Trevelyan. They were never going to see eye to eye on that subject.

‘That must be very hard for you.’ observed Leliana sympathetically. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Alistair sighed heavily, suddenly reaching out to pat Michel’s arm. The gesture appeared a peace offering, as if the king no longer harboured ill will towards the chevalier.

‘I’m sorry my friend.’ acknowledged Alistair. ‘I know we share a complicated past, but I never relish in hearing tales of men’s misfortunes. There was a time when I believed Ophelia loving you was a terrible curse I’d never break. It was only years later I realised some marriages are not meant to be. You don’t want to be married to someone that doesn’t love you as you deserve. You’ll see this divorce as a blessing in the end.’

‘Well said.’ agreed Leliana. ‘Although unmarried, I spent years chasing after Cullen hoping he’d love me the same. In the end I knew I had to let go of that man in order to allow my heart to be open once more.’. The woman fondly touched Alistair’s rugged jaw. ‘I found Alistair and I’ve never been more in love in my entire life. Love finds a way Michel. Of that you can place your trust.’

Alistair clutched her hand over his jaw with a smile. ‘I feel the same Leli.’

With a feigned smile, Michel nodded.

‘Such beautiful words.’ the chevalier observed civilly, despite appearing to be rather uninspired by the advice or the people bestowing it.

‘Did your wife run off with someone in Orlais?’ asked Leliana. ‘I hear the courts are running rife with infidelity.’

Alistair rolled his eyes. ‘You can’t ask him that.’

‘I just did.’ laughed Leliana, turning back to Michel. ‘It’s very rare for an Orlesian noblewoman to seek divorce. She must have been in love with someone of great standing? Who was it?’

‘_Leli_.’ groaned Alistair.

‘What?!’ exclaimed Leliana innocently. ‘I’m just curious.’

‘There’s being curious and then there’s being the biggest sticky beak in Thedas.’ Alistair chuckled, pointing a finger at the woman. ‘You’re the latter.’

Michel gripped the reins tightly, growing more and more impatient of this polite conversation at a slow trot.

‘Cullen Rutherford.’ Michel answered sharply. ‘That is who stole my wife.’

Alistair and Leliana’s heads turned sharply back to the chevalier, clearly in shock. As if their minds were trying to figure out whether they had heard right, they stared at the chevalier blankly.

‘It's true.’ affirmed Michel.

‘Cullen stole your wife?’ exclaimed Leliana sharply.

‘As in _Knight-Commander Cullen_?’ clarified Alistair, clearly in disbelief.

Flicking his blonde hair back elegantly with his hand, the chevalier bestowed a dignified nod. ‘_Oui_. I made the unfortunate decision to bring my wife to Skyhold during this mission. Rose and Cullen met there. Well, you can guess how the rest of the story goes.’

‘Cullen stole your wife.’ echoed Alistair in disbelief, shaking his head. ‘Why in the world would he do that?’

‘Because his takes what he wants.’ answered Leliana cynically, digging her heels hard into her stirrups. ‘I know Cullen better than either of you. Trust me, he asserts himself rather well when he takes an interest.’

‘Yes and in this case he’s taken an interest in Rose.’ informed Michel flatly. ‘Rose has welcomed his felicitations.’. The chevalier shrugged, as if he was indifferent rather than hurt. ‘Apparently they are in love. _If it is possible to fall in love with a stranger over a few weeks_? If so, then I suppose they are.’

Leliana threw a sympathetic smile to the chevalier. ‘At least you can see it for what it is.’

‘I’d propose it’s nothing but a ruse but Rose is now living with Cullen in Crestwood.’ informed Michel dryly. He nodded as Leliana looked at him in surprise. ‘Like you said, I can see it for what it is. _For what they are_. I may not find it palatable but I accept it. My heart refuses to weep for a wife that does not want me.’

‘Arrogant bastard.’ muttered Alistair. ‘I’d expected the years might have softened him a little. You know, like he may have grown a conscious perhaps?’

‘No he’s more of a prick than ever.’ observed Michel, causing his companions to laugh. ‘Forgive me, there’s no other way to describe him.’

Alistair rolled his hand with a grin. ‘Well you’re in good company Michel, as you can guess Leliana and I both aren’t too fond of the man. So come, the journey is long and we are in need of the full tale.’

Leliana nodded in encouragement. ‘Yes, tales are best told to sympathetic ears, and we’re got four of them _desperate_ to hear everything that has happened.’


	166. Something in the Stars

To celebrate the end of the working week, Jowan and I were eager to retire at _The Cock and Bull_ for a few rounds of cards and a warm meal. We were dismayed to find the tavern shut as we arrived, with Varric kicking out anyone who dared seat themselves at a table. According to the rogue his two Antivan chefs had run off earlier that day with most of the alcohol in the tavern stashed in a cart. Apparently several Templars had spotted the pair galloping away down the mountain, none the wiser they were thieves. To say Varric was angry was an understatement. He was cursing Antivans and Templars, _sometimes in Antivan_, and kicking chairs as we tried to placate him. After several failed attempts to encourage him to settle down, Jowan and I felt it best to leave our friend to himself.

And so on that night Jowan and I made our way to Skyhold’s second best tavern; _The Herald’s Rest_.

The promise of a warm fire and a merry tune beckoned us forth and yet to our dismay the moment we stepped foot into the lively establishment we discovered it had become the tavern of choice for the Templars to spend time in. The innkeeper Cabot had made his tavern quite the welcoming respite for the Order, with several banners and templar shields adorning the walls.

My eyes scanned the room I reservation, noticing groups from the Order settled in at the tables throughout the room. They were drinking and playing cards and dice, while some were enjoying darts by the thick wooden beams near the staircase. Lifting my attention to the second floor, I could see even more Templars seated above, eagerly listening to the bard that played merry tunes on a fife.

‘Can we drink somewhere else?’ I protested, appealing to Jowan as he sat down at a table near the bar. ‘Ortik’s Tavern isn’t that far from here if we ride fast. It’s a fine night for a ride.’

‘I’m not riding off the side of a cliff when we have a perfectly good tavern here.’ refuted Jowan.

‘What if I say pretty please?’ I pressed.

Refusing my request, Jowan clicked his fingers sharply, ordering me to sit as he went to get some beverages from Cabot.

Sinking into my seat, I tried to ignore the ruckus of jovial Templars whose voices echoed in the tavern. There was a sea of new faces I’d never seen. No doubt these were the new Templars from Crestwood? My attention caught the back of an albino chatting to a group of Templars by the window and I realised that I did recognise at least one templar in this place.

‘The white rat is over there.’ I informed pleasantly as Jowan returned to our table. ‘At least Ortik’s Tavern doesn't have rats?’

The mage lifted his dark eyes to the packed room, hissing as he spotted Knight-Captain Arrus gulping down a pitcher.

‘So he’s an ale drinker?’ muttered Jowan. ‘Good to know if I ever need to poison him.’

Looking precariously into my full flagon, I threw my companion a nervous smile. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, I’d never poison your ale.’ replied Jowan. Resting into his chair, the mage took a leisurely sip of wine. ‘No I’d probably lace your blue jumper with poison.’ he suggested with a wicked smile. ‘You wear it enough. Maybe a little acid placed in the right places? By the time you rugged up in that thing it would be too late.’

My hand fell protectively to my soft wool jumper. ‘You’re a cruel man. So I enjoy wearing something – the only thing – that I have connected to a chevalier that wants nothing to do with me? Is that a crime?’

‘Yes!’ laughed Jowan, lifting his goblet to toast the fact. ‘You’re embracing Michel de Chevin’s fashion faux pas with dire enthusiasm. It’s a crime.’

The mage’s amused face suddenly fell as he noticed something past my shoulder. I turned curiously to see Cassandra reading a book by herself at a table in the corner of the tavern. There was a bowl of bread and cheese and a single goblet of wine beside it, which she picked away at in-between turning pages.

‘Well that’s rather sad.’ Jowan observed dismally.

‘What?’ I frowned, looking back at the Seeker. ‘Cassandra reading a book is sad?’

‘She’s just sitting there all by herself.’ observed Jowan. ‘In a room full of people and she is all alone.’

‘Cassandra probably wanted it that way.’ I chuckled. ‘She was never the type to chew the ear off a drunk at the bar. I’m surprised she’s left her library to sup here. During the Inquisition she never came to drink here.’

Jowan grabbed his goblet swiftly and stood up. With a subtle pat of his black tunic and a quick hand through his dark hair, he began to walk off.

‘Back in a jiff.’ he called back, scampering away before I could persuade him to stay.

Puzzled as to why Jowan felt the need to approach Cassandra, my eyes followed the mage as he darted between Templars until my attention was diverted. By a large table I spotted a certain Commander with a certain woman by his side.

Rose’s arm was laced through Cullen’s, and she smiled brilliantly to the Templars that they were chatting away with. Several raised their flagons in a toast, and both Cullen and Rose joined in with fond smiles. To my surprise, _Cullen appeared_ _jovial_. His face lit up as he spoke to Rose, attentively hanging on to every word she spoke as if it were orders from his Knight-Vigilant. As Cullen conversed with his Templars he drew a hand around her back, his fingers rolling up and down her spine languidly. Rose’s body leant into his affectionately as Cullen held her close to him. I’d never seen such an enamoured couple in all my life.

Tearing my eyes away from their happy smiles, mine fell sadly to my flagon. _I felt so alone. _Not that Cullen and Rose had anything to do about it, but I blamed them for my misery. They were the reason Michel left, and it had now been three months since I’d last seen the chevalier. No matter what I did to distract myself, there was nothing I could do to stop thinking about him. Even now I was wondering what Michel was doing? Could he feel me thinking about him? Did I ever cross his mind?

With a disenchanted sigh I began to search the room for my friend when I finally spotted him seated at the table with Cassandra. Jowan was merrily chatting away and to my surprise Cassandra appeared just as pleased to chat back.

‘Jowan is drinking with Cassandra.’ I laughed to myself, wondering if my eyes deceived me. ‘What in the blazes is going on? Is there something in the stars tonight?’

‘Mind if I join you?’ asked a voice pleasantly.

Jumping in my seat from fright, I turned to see a smiling templar with short brown hair and eyes standing by my table.

_‘_Knight-Captain Sheldon.’ I remarked in surprise.

The templar drew a chair to the table and peered into my flagon curiously.

‘What are you drinking?’

‘Ale.’ I replied uncertainly, wondering why the templar was sitting in Jowan’s seat.

Sheldon rubbed a hand through his choppy brown hair, smiling as he playfully clashed his flagon against mine. ‘Well cheers! You know I’ve seen you around the keep and always wanted to say hello. But you have a tendency to walk fast and look like you’re a million miles away in another world.’

The templar grinned as I laughed in response

‘That’s my speciality.’ I confessed. ‘And you train the Templars in the courtyard most days? I’m certain I’ve seen you down there.’

Sheldon raised a playful brow. ‘So _you were_ paying attention?’

‘It’s hard not to when you’re clashing swords and making a great deal of noise in my keep.’ I pointed out playfully. ‘Shouldn’t you be drinking with you comrades? I thought Templars weren’t supposed to drink with mages?’

The Knight-Captain waved off the comment with his hand casually. ‘We’re two people in a tavern drinking ale. Who cares what our professions are? Besides, I always enjoy sharing an ale with a pretty lass.’

The templar chuckled as I narrowed my eyes at the man.

‘Was that a compliment? You are _nothing_ like Arrus or Cullen.’ I laughed. ‘You realise this, don’t you?’

Sheldon chuckled, as if he were well aware of that fact.

My eyes lifted to the large table where Cullen was now sitting with a group of his Templars. His face drew curiously over to my table as he noticed Sheldon and I talking. Turning away before he caught my eye, I sipped at my ale with a grin. To my delight I realised there was more promise to this night than I had dared hoped.

_I had a chance to piss off Cullen and I was going to take it._

‘So tell me about yourself?’ I encouraged. ‘I know nothing about you.’

‘What do you want to know?’ asked the templar pleasantly.

‘Have you been a templar long?’ I asked, adding mischievously. ‘And how much do you hate mages on a scale of one to ten?’

Sheldon laughed boisterously, taking another sip of ale. My eyes darted over to Cullen and I caught a disapproving flash of amber as he looked over.

‘You know I rather like mages.’ confessed Sheldon, drawing his seat closer to the table. He rested his elbows on the wood and appeared quite serious as he spoke. ‘Magic always fascinated me. I mean, how does it work? To some who are born they possess this incredible ability of the arcane. You weave ice and fire so effortlessly, as if it were no big deal to manifest the elements. But to me, as a person who has no magic, it is a big deal. It’s impressive!’

Shaking my head, I laughed in disbelief. ‘Are you saying you _admire magic?’_

‘Of course!’ confessed Sheldon. ‘Just because I’m a templar doesn’t mean I hate magic. I like magic. And I like mages.’

‘This night just keeps on getting weirder and weirder.’ I laughed, finishing off my ale.

‘I sense you have reservations about Templars?’ acknowledged Sheldon sympathetically. ‘Meredith Stannard never did our Order’s reputation much credit. But I promise you not all of us in the Order believe that mages should be locked away, or tranquilised. I have a hope of a brighter future for us all in days to come. A future where mages and Templars can coexist peacefully, and with respect for each other.’

‘To peace and respect.’ I toasted, drinking from an empty cup. ‘Ah.’ I frowned. ‘I take that back. No ale. I guess that means no peace and respect.’

The templar grinned. ‘Another one? My treat?’

Sensing Cullen’s eyes pressed hard on me, I knew there was only one answer.

‘You know what Sheldon? I’d love one!’ 

As the templar headed towards the bar, I watched him with a grin. The man was quite attractive, although a little older than what I usually went for. But he had a nice smile and I could tell he was in good shape. I wasn’t interested in this man at all but flirting with the Knight-Captain to piss of Cullen wouldn’t be an unpleasant task.

Finally the Knight-Captain returned with two full flagons. ‘You know I was there at your wedding to King Alistair.’ chuckled the templar. ‘Way at the back of the cathedral behind all the nobility.’

‘Really?’ I remarked. ‘Maker that feels like an age ago now. Are you from Denerim?’

‘I lived there all my life.’ informed Sheldon fondly, as if the city held a special place in his heart. ‘Well that is until I joined the templar Order. Then I moved around a little. But I have family in Denerim so I’m always there.’

‘Same here.’ I replied, causing the templar to chuckle.

‘Well I imagine so!’ acknowledged Sheldon. He shook his head with a smile. ‘I never thought I’d be drinking ale with the Queen of Ferelden one day. You know I always felt sad when you divorced King Alistair. The people loved you as his wife.’

‘No they didn’t.’ I laughed. ‘The people hated me for leaving him.’

‘Bah, a handful of zealots maybe?’ dismissed the templar. ‘King Alistair the Strong and Queen Ophelia the Compassionate. That’s what the people used to say. Bless the king, I’d never speak ill of him. But we all know he’s not driven by charitable pursuits. Yet you balanced him well, because you were more interested in the plights of hardship. Whenever I was in Denerim I’d see you in the Chantry each Sunday and you always gave alms direct to the beggars in the aisle on the way out. Most nobles get their servants to give out the coin, but not you.’. Sheldon raised his flagon. ‘You’ve a kind heart.’

Taken aback by his gracious observation, I was humbled. ‘Thank you.’ I remarked, lifting my brows in surprise. _This templar was genuinely kind. _

‘You’ve aided some impoverished mages up here also.’ added Sheldon with a fond smile. ‘I reckon you’re doing some fine work. You should be proud.’

I couldn’t help but smile. Sheldon was possibly the first templar I’d ever met that wasn’t hateful or suspicious of mages. He spoke to me with encouraging and uplifting words, and I suddenly realised _I was actually enjoying_ _talking to this templar_.

‘How about another drink?’ I suggested warmly. ‘My shout?’

Sheldon looked in surprise at his empty flagon. ‘Well I won’t say no.’ he laughed.

With a smile I made my way over to the tired wooden bar, resting my elbows on the oak as I waited for Cabot to come serve me. He was busy pouring ale for a thirsty group of Templars further down the bar and didn’t seem to notice me. I turned back to see the Sheldon sitting there waiting for me and a curl formed on my lip.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Cullen quietly, sidling up to me.

Grabbing my heart in surprise, I drew a deep breath. ‘Cullen, you scared me. I didn’t know you were standing there.’

Ignoring my startled observation, Cullen faced me with a stoic expression. ‘Why are you and my Knight-Captain knocking down drinks like two long lost friends?’ he asked sternly.

‘I didn’t realise I had to explain to you who I choose to drink with these days?’ I muttered, raising my hand in a failed attempt to get the dwarven bartender’s attention. ‘There’s no harm in talking.’

The Commander placed his hand subtly on my arm, firmly gripping my skin with his fingers. His digits pressed hard into my flesh; actions no doubt reflecting his internal struggle at the situation presented to him.

Turning to him in surprise, I frowned at the templar. ‘What are you-?’

‘_I’m not playing games_.’ Cullen warned. ‘Don’t use my Templars in some weak attempt to get back at me.’. His amber eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘Why are you suddenly drinking here at The Herald? When in all this time you’ve never once dared stray from Varric’s tavern?’

‘The Cock and Bull is closed for the night.’ I replied darkly, waving my other arm to get Cabot’s attention. ‘Stop being so paranoid, not everything I do is a direct attack on you. I’m having a nice chat with your templar and that’s it. Sheldon bought me an ale and now it’s my turn to shout him one.’

Cullen looked at me with stern eyes, refusing to believe me. ‘I mean it Ophelia. You need to stop your little dalliance here and go find a mage _to_ _chat_ with.’

‘Or what?’ I asked shortly, pulling my arm away from him. ‘You’ll send me to the Aoenar? Whip me? What are you going to do? If I want to converse with your Knight-Captain I can. And for the record, he approached me. And you know what? I actually think Sheldon is a really nice guy.’

‘Please.’ scoffed Cullen, turning his eye to the brown haired templar sitting at my table. ‘He’s not your type.’

I threw a pair of cold eyes to Rose, who was talking to Arrus on the other side of the room. ‘How about you go back _to your type_ and let me enjoy the night. Rose is waiting for her drink.’

The Knight-Commander took a step closer to me, pressing his body against mine as he stood there.

‘Intimidation is it?’ I scoffed, stepping away from him. 'You need to back off.'

‘If you push me Ophelia there will be consequences.’ Cullen warned. ‘Remember, I’m the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order. There is to be no fraternisation between my people and yours.’

With a feigned smile my hand lifted to my pony tail, which I loosened, allowing my chestnut tresses to fall down past my shoulders. Cullen loved stroking my hair and often confessed he craved the sweet scent of it pervading him when we made love. I teased my hand through my hair several times, before pulling off my blue jumper, revealing a figure hugging white tunic. My fingers unbuttoned several top buttons, revealing a little cleavage.

Silently the templar stared at me, refusing to speak as he watched me preen myself.

‘Enjoying yourself? Well if you must know this top is new.’ I remarked pleasantly, adjusting my silver necklace so it sat just above my breasts. ‘Do you think Sheldon will like it? I hope so.’

‘_Be careful_.’ warned Cullen. ‘When you return to your table you will politely tell my Knight-Captain that you do not desire his company for the rest of the night. Then you will leave here. Am I understood?’

His eyes held mine for a second before turning away without waiting for my reply, leaving me alone at the bar once more.

Cursing the Commander under my breath, I turned back to the bar to be finally greeted by Cabot. After ordering more ale, I returned to my table only to find the number of people at it had grown.

Taking a seat beside Sheldon, I handed him a flagon as I nodded to Jowan and Cassandra sitting on the other side of the table. Jowan was showing the Seeker his coin tricks and to his delight he had found someone willing to pay him their full attention.

The mage twirled a large gold coin between his fingers before clapping his hands and making it disappear. Both Cassandra and Sheldon exchanged amused laughs as they looked at the mage in disbelief.

‘Where did it go?’ protested Sheldon, shaking his head. ‘I swear it was just there in your hand.’

‘How did you do that?’ laughed Cassandra, looking around the table to see if the coin had been dropped. ‘Is it behind your chair?’

‘Are you implying I’m a butterfingers?’ mused Jowan, taking a sip of wine. ‘It’s a trick, Cassandrus.’

‘_Cassandrus_?’ I repeated with a grin, wondering why in the world Jowan and Cassandra of all people were laughing and drinking and performing coin tricks before me.

The Seeker rolled her eyes with a smile and drank from her goblet. ‘Oh never mind, Donnic here thinks he’s very clever. Thinks, mind you. _Not is_.’

‘_Donnic_?’ I chuckled, turning to Jowan for clarity.

‘I think they’re rather strange pet names.’ whispered Sheldon cheekily.

Jowan revealed a taunting grin, his attention directly on Cassandra.

‘Then where is the coin?’ he asked playfully.

The mage reached over to Cassandra’s ear and produced the gold coin from behind it. Or so it appeared. The Seeker’s face broke out in a delighted smile, laughing as she snatched the coin from the amused Jowan. Sheldon clapped loudly, also amused by the antics of the mage.

‘It’s magic, it has to be!’ observed Sheldon. ‘I was looking at your hand the entire time and there was no coin there!’

Cassandra took another sip of her wine as her eyes playfully glared at the mage. ‘Yes I believe Jowan might have the upper hand on that one, Sheldon.’

Jowan looked innocently at the accusing stares. ‘What? _It’s a trick? _Is it my fault I’m not only an exceptional talented mage but also an exceptionally talented magician?’

‘_An exceptionally talented bullshit artist_.’ corrected Cassandra.

Jowan broke into an amused laugh. ‘Well, I try.’

Sheldon nudged his flagon to mine, throwing me a smile. ‘Cheers Ophelia. Your friends are good entertainment.’

Shaking my head in amusement, I watched on as Jowan eagerly performed another coin trick to the intrigued Seeker.

‘Cheers!’ I replied to the templar, knocking my cup to his. ‘To mages and Templars. May we all get along as friends.’

‘Finer friends I never knew.’ toasted Sheldon. ‘To the bond that Templars and mages share.’

A flash of amber caught my attention and I looked over to see Cullen looking at me in displeasure. With a smile, I turned back to his Knight-Captain and settled in for a long conversation about Sheldon’s adventures in Denerim.

_Perhaps there were others factors at play as to why the mages and Templars didn’t get along? Perhaps it all had to do with the Knight-Commander sitting at the head of the Order? A man that secretly hated and yet loved that bond between templar and mage_.

****

The warm breeze of a distant spring drawing near welcomed me that morning on the battlements. I leaned over the parapet to see a vast blue sky with not a cloud blemishing it’s brilliant azure. Like a queen in her castle, I felt a similar feeling looking out from the stone battlements.

Footsteps from behind distracted me as I turned to see Jowan approaching, appearing a little more dishevelled than usual. He had stayed out late at The Herald’s Rest, drinking into the night while I had retired hours before.

‘You look like you need some of that potion in your desk.’ I laughed, patting the mage on the back affectionately as he rested against the parapet.

Jowan rubbed his peaky white face tiredly. ‘I wanted to sleep in but I couldn’t because of those damn horns. Always the horns.’

‘I don’t suppose several bottles of Cabot’s house wine had anything to do with it?’ I teased.

His black hair spilled forward as he cradled his aching head. ‘Don’t mention Cabot’s wine to me now. I think I’m going to hurl it back up.’

My amused eyes lifted to Gherlans Pass where a royal entourage was slowly making their way towards Skyhold.

‘King Alistair comes to Skyhold.’ I observed flatly. ‘What are we to make of it?’

‘Cassandra came to check on us, I suppose he’s duty bound to do the same?’ muttered Jowan. ‘Let’s hope it’s a day visit.’

With an uncertain smile, I turned to the mage. ‘So…_about last night_?’

‘What about last night?’ dismissed Jowan. His dark eyes darted away from me uncomfortably, as if he knew what I was about to say.

‘_Cassandrus and Donnic_ drinking for hours and getting on like a house on fire?’ I observed, raising an amused brow. ‘You’re lucky Varric wasn’t there to witness that.’

The mage’s brow creased as he squinted across the horizon, pretending to be more interested in the entourage. ‘Alistair’s brought a lot of soldiers with him. It’ll be interesting to see if he has anything to bring to this mission aside from pomp and ceremony.’

‘_Jowan_.’

The mage sighed heavily and turned to me. ‘Fine. _Fine_. So I spent the night drinking with Cassandra? That’s all it was. We were also drinking with Sheldon for half the night. And you. What of it?’

Grinning at my friend, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing before me. Jowan was acting….._extremely ambiguous_.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ I chuckled in disbelief. ‘What happened to us always telling the truth? I’ve confessed my darkest sins and you can’t even admit you had a romantic rendezvous in The Herald.’

The mage lowered his head in defeat. ‘It’s not like that. I just think she’s nice.’ he confessed quietly, his fingers chipping away at a loose stone in the wall. ‘And…rather breathtaking.’

‘_Breathtaking_!’ I exclaimed, shocked that Jowan was actually acknowledging his interest in something other than a jar of toffees. ‘That is a strong word to describe our dear Seeker.’

‘I know how it looks.’ replied Jowan defensively ‘I mean, I hate Cassandra. Or I thought I did? That is until she came back here and I’ve got to know her a little. A very little, mind you. But her dry sense of humour makes me laugh.’. Jowan’s expression softened as his mind wandered to thoughts of Cassandra. ‘She’s proud and graceful. And she has these adorable dimples when she’s displeased and purses her lips. Oh and when she drinks wine they come out too. And when she’s eating.’. Jowan rubbed his jaw, a grin forming. ‘I find myself just watching them while she speaks. It’s rather mesmerising.’

Biting my lip, I tried to conceal my own grin. Whether Jowan wanted to confess it or not, _he was smitten. _The fact that Cassandra was a Seeker and a Divine seemed secondary at this point. When I recalled the previous night I saw how happy Jowan had been. I’d never seen him like that with another person.

‘You both seem to enjoy each other’s company a great deal.’ I observed diplomatically. ‘I can’t see how that’s a bad thing?’

Jowan turned to me in surprise. ‘You don’t think I’m an absolute cretin for liking the very woman that’s causing our Order so much trouble? That’s how I feel. A giant dunderhead.’

‘She’s probably feeling the same way about you.’ I laughed. ‘But then again, I didn’t see either of you shying away from each other last night. Cassandra is a strong character. She’s not going to give you the time of day unless she wants to. Maybe there’s something to that?’

‘We haven’t done anything.’ added Jowan defensively. ‘We just both had a nice night drinking and talking. We parted at closing time, each going our separate ways.’

‘Totally innocent then?’ I smirked.

Jowan sighed. ‘I know there’s more at stake here. Varric would kill me. And I feel like a twat for even talking to Cassandra. Considering how our dwarven friend feels about her.’

Sighing heavily, I knew that Varric would take this hard. ‘I suppose you cross that bridge if and when it occurs.’

‘I don’t want to be _that person_, Ophelia.’ observed Jowan in displeasure. ‘The one that steals another friend’s lover. Varric is my friend.’

‘Yes but they haven’t been together for four years.’ I pointed out. ‘Is Cassandra not allowed to move on?’

‘It’s all nonsense anyway, she would never like me _like that_.’ dismissed Jowan. ‘I’m a fool to even be speaking of this to you. She could never feel anything for me.’

Rubbing his black hair playfully, I laughed as he batted off my fingers like a playful kitten. ‘Jowan, any woman would be lucky to have you. You need to see what I do. A beautiful man with a warm, caring and sensitive soul.’

‘And brilliant, handsome and all round spectacular.’ added the mage with a laugh. ‘Oh yes, watch out ladies of Skyhold.’. He rolled his eyes at me. ‘Come on Ophelia, how many women have I won over in the last billion years? Leliana slept with me once to steal my seed. And aside from that I’ve had no one take an interest in me.’

Shaking my head, I cursed Leliana under my breath. ‘It’s not you Jowan. It’s most likely something to do with your reputation as a blood mage.’

‘And here I thought being a maleficar was as seductive as being a chevalier.’ grinned Jowan. 

Raising my brow, I knew he may have a point. ‘Maybe to a Seeker you come across as a forbidden fruit? Like a certain templar we know that enjoys mages?’

‘And we all know how well that turned out.’ scoffed Jowan.

‘No **man ever steps in the same river twice**, for it's not the **same river** and he's not the **same man**.’ I replied, tapping my nose sagely.

Jowan scoffed. ‘You’ve been reading too much of that Heraclitus drivel.’

‘Perhaps? But I’m going to go out on a limb and say Cassandra is not like Cullen.’ I argued.

Throwing him a sad smile, as much as I wished to encourage him I knew right now we had more pressing issues to attend to. My eyes turned back to the entourage in the distance, coldly taking in the knights that rode closer.

‘He still affects you, doesn’t he?’ observed Jowan.

‘Can I ever forgive the man that forced me to have his child and then took her away from me?’ I replied darkly. ‘Yes Jowan, Alistair affects me greatly. I hate him. I hate everything about him.’

The mage nodded stiffly, as if he also disliked the man. ‘Don’t worry Ophelia; Alistair will pay for what he did to you. You’ll get Caerwyn back. I’ll get my son back. And then we’ll never look back.’

‘You promise?’ I asked quietly.

Feeling his hand on mine, I turned to see Jowan by my side.

‘I promise.’ he whispered back.

Drawing a deep breath, I felt more energised than ever knowing Jowan had my back. If Cassandra were smart she would never let him go.

‘In that case, let’s go _Donnic_.’ I informed, pulling him along to the stairs of the battlements. ‘Let’s put our happy faces on and go greet my delightful ex-husband.’


	167. The Strength of a Gentle Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this chapter I just realised this story has passed 800,000 words and wow what a journey this has been. Thank you to all my readers who have followed this. This story holds such a special place in my heart, I think every time I write a chapter these characters take a life of their own and will me to write their story. It even surprises me where that story goes at times!
> 
> Thank you all for reading and all your support <3 Much love, Winter Pendragon

Proud Ferelden knights adorned in polished plate mail rode into the courtyard with a flurry of metal and hooves, shaking the ground as they trotted to the stables. Skyhold’s stable master barked orders over the loud voices of the riders, directing the men and their horses towards the giant water troughs by the far eastern wall of the keep. Mages peered with reservation from the battlements, eyeing the Ferelden party with reserve. Everyone was well aware that the king did not support the Mage Order of Southern Thedas, and yet as he owned this keep there was little to do but welcome him into Skyhold while keeping a sensible distance.

As Cassandra, Jowan and I watched on from the stone platform outside the main hall, patiently waiting for King Alistair’s entourage to settle in the keep, we too held the same reserve as our mages. Alistair’s arrival into Skyhold never came without a reason. And from previous experience his demands were generally excessive and held little regard to those involved in them.

A group of knights ascended the stairs from the stables, with Alistair Theirin leading the group. He paused outside The Herald’s Rest to instruct his group, while a little further back Leliana appeared with another group of soldiers as they too arrived in the courtyard

Cassandra glared down at the gathering, crossing her arms rigidly as she spotted the woman.

‘_Leliana_.’ she observed bitterly. ‘I wondered when she would show up.’

Jowan shook his head in irritation. ‘Why does she insist on being involved with this mission? I told her to stay in Denerim. Is it not enough that we’re risking our lives to fight Sapientes? Now we have to put up with her barking orders at us in our keep.’

Cassandra threw a dry look to the mage. ‘She’s a loose cannon.’

‘She’s a raging bull in a china shop.’ added Jowan.

The Seeker smirked. ‘She’s one sandwich short of a picnic.’

‘A few nugs loose in the top paddock?’ suggested Jowan mischievously.

Cassandra laughed, unwilling to be beaten in their strange game of idioms. ‘Hasn’t got both oars in the water.’

‘Not the full tin of bikkies.’ quipped the mage. Snapping his fingers, he continued quickly. ‘Not playing with a full deck. A couple buttons missing.’

‘The butter’s slipped off the bread.’ retorted Cassandra.

‘Show off.’ chuckled Jowan.

Feeling like the uncomfortable third wheel, I decided to steer back to the woman in the courtyard.

‘It sounds like both of you want Leliana here?’ I observed sarcastically. ‘You never know, she might have information useful to this mission? Let’s face it; Leliana has been reserved in telling us what happened to her for all those years. She’s bound to have a lot of information about Sapientes.’

‘I know him better than anyone,’ dismissed Jowan shortly ‘you don’t get the pet name _Noctus Filis_ from an ancient demon without having established a strong relationship over the years.’. With precise pickings the mage began to remove the pilling from his sleeve, as if the whole situation of Sapientes irritated him to the core. ‘We don’t need Leliana’s misguided assessment of Sapientes or the Maker or any other frivolous vision she claims we must believe. She’s not here to aid us. She’s here to control us and brain wash us with her fanaticism.’

‘Precisely.’ agreed Cassandra ‘If we allow her - that is when things will get dangerous with Leliana.’

‘You’re the rightful Divine. You need to remind her of that.’ advised Jowan, casting his dark eyes to the Seeker. ‘She won’t respect you if you make her think she has a say _on any matter._ Give her an inch and she’ll take a mile._’_

‘I’ve worked with her long enough to know what she’s like.’ observed Cassandra dryly.

My eyes drifted past Alistair and his men drinking water from their flasks, to where I noticed the white plate mail of an Orlesian chevalier. Although his back was turned the man had long blonde hair tied in neat ponytail falling down his back.

‘_Michel!!!_!’ I cried out loudly, rushing down the stone steps towards the chevalier.

My feet barely touched the ground as a flurry of faces passed me. Darting in-between knights and soldiers, my hand desperately pushed aside steel vambraces as I fought my way towards the chevalier.

‘Michel!’ I called out joyously, disrupting the conversation he was having with a soldier. The chevalier’s face broke out into a wide smile as he turned to me.

‘You’re back!’ I exclaimed in delight.

Graciously Michel nodded, stepping closer to me with outstretched arms. I flung my arms around his neck and he folded his arms around my waist as we fell into a warm embrace.

‘Ophelia it is so good to see you!’ exclaimed Michel, holding me so tight I began to feel a little crushed by his metal trappings.

‘Maker be praised, it is _so good_ to see you.’ I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘Why are you riding with Alistair’s royal entourage? Have you come back for the mission?’

‘I didn’t come back for the Templars, _da’len assan_.’ Michel replied, exposing a mischievous smile. ‘It was because I was scared you’d send me another fourteen letters’.

Breaking out in laughter, we released each other from our arms. Refusing to look away from the man for even a second, I held his attention with a giant smile.

‘You have _no idea_ how good it is to see you. I thought you’d left and would never return.’

The chevalier’s expression softened as he stepped closer. ‘Ophelia, I’d never-’.

Michel cut his words short as his blue eyes caught sight of a Knight-Commander walking up the stairs towards the main hall. Shaking his head in disgust, the chevalier watched on in silence as Cullen entered the main hall.

‘You should settle in.’ I suggested tentatively. _I suspected it was unwise to lead Michel to a room with Cullen in it._ ‘You don’t need to waste your time on these formalities. Go and unpack. I’ll come find you after I welcome our party.’

Ignoring my advice Michel began to walk to the main hall. ‘Come Ophelia, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.’

Following the chevalier up the stairs, I was filled with elation and despair as we walked into the main hall.

‘Divine Elizabeth, it is wonderful to see you again!’

Michel’s solemn face suddenly transformed into a brilliant smile as he approached Cassandra, shaking her hand as if reuniting with a long lost friend. As the chevalier worked the room with his pleasantries, I was presented with the choice of approaching Cullen and Arrus snickering by the throne chair, or Alistair, Leliana and Jowan standing by the fire.

It was a hard choice.

‘Alistair.’ I greeted, exchanging a forced peck on his cheek. ‘It’s good to see you.’. My green eyes flickered towards Leliana, who was smiling at the pair of us a little too enthusiastically. ‘Leliana, it’s nice to see you also.’

‘I see you’ve kept the Inquisition Throne?’ she observed, nudging her head to where Cullen and Arrus were talking. ‘I assumed you would have burnt it the first opportunity you had.’

‘Varric said it added charm to the place.’ Jowan replied, rolling his eyes. ‘The tourists who come to visit like to sit in it and Varric charges extra for that luxury…so I guess there’s that.‘

‘Speak of the devil.’ I grinned, spotting the dwarf skipping towards us from the library entrance.

‘Well whadd'ya know, there's a party going on here!’ laughed Varric, joining us by the fire with a welcoming clap of his hands. He threw his thumb at Alistair and Leliana with a wide grin. ‘Sparrow, did these kids tell you what they did for me? Angels of mercy the pair of them!’

Leliana and Alistair laughed at the dwarf as he stood between them and patted their backs with a large slap.

‘My knights stopped a suspicious wagon flying down the Imperial Highway when we were travelling here.’ informed Alistair. ‘There were two Antivans acting very suspicious with a concealed wagon of Magi Monk bottles and a large chest of coin. Didn’t take a genius to figure out it might have came from Skyhold.’

‘Alistair confiscated the wagon and ordered the men to be taken to Redcliff Castle for questioning.’ added Leliana, casting her eyes mischievously to Jowan. ‘Imagine being kept in a cell under Redcliffe Castle?’

‘Imagine releasing a prisoner from there without the Arl’s consent?’ smirked Jowan.

‘So you got your goods back!’ I exclaimed in delight.

‘Yep, the luck of the gods shines on this handsome dwarf.’ observed Varric, cracking his knuckles smugly. ‘The Cock and Bull is back in business!’

My eyes darted over to Michel, who was now partaking in what appeared a serious conversation with Cassandra and Cullen. They were keeping things civil but I could tell neither Michel nor Cullen wished to be there conversing. Cullen’s flinty glare was matched by Michel’s patronising smile, equally as unnerving.

Our time in the hall was thankfully short and to the point. Cassandra formally welcomed the king to Skyhold, praised Michel’s return and encouraged us all back to work. Cullen and Arrus were keen to leave the hall the moment they were dismissed, marching out with stern nods on their way out. Leliana was eager to talk to Cassandra and Jowan, drawing them away to the War Room, while Michel was left speaking to Alistair as he departed the hall.

‘Are you coming?’ beckoned Jowan, nudging his head to our study. ‘Leliana wants to talk.’. He rolled his eyes cynically. ‘If I have to go so are you. You’re not getting out of this one.’

Looking to the entrance of the hall, I could see Michel still conversing with Alistair. Jowan glanced over to the party and chuckled, realising who I was waiting for.

‘Join us after you speak to Michel.’ he advised, turning towards the door that led to the War Room. ‘Good luck.’ he added playfully as he darted away.

‘Maker help me.’ I muttered, shaking my nervous hands.

As the chevalier finished his conversation with Alistair at the entrance, I remained behind in the isolated hall. Sitting on a bench before the great fire in the hall, I waited patiently as my heart pounded in my chest. 

It felt like the hours had dragged by when Michel re-entered the hall with a strong stride. He passed me as he went towards the throne chair, looking around urgently before spotting me by the fire.

I turned my head and caught his friendly face smiling at me.

‘I was hoping you’d be here still.’ he called out.

Shaking my head, I didn’t have a word to offer back. There was so much I wanted to say to Michel de Chevin but couldn’t. As the chevalier approached I focused on the hissing flames that licked the large logs.

‘Are you okay?’ Michel asked softly, turning to me. ‘Ophelia? What is it?’

The chevalier took a seat beside me, giving his full attention as he waited patiently for a reply.

‘Why didn’t you write back?’ I asked, throwing the chevalier a sad look. _‘I was so worried about you._ I thought something might have happened to you. In the end I just accepted I’d never see you again.’. Raising my hands to him, I knew I had no right to demand he write to me. ‘And I realise we are not on that level where you would feel an obligation to inform me of your decisions. I’m not chastising you, not at all. But Michel, I felt so miserable the longer your silence went on.’. Flinging my hand to the entrance, I looked to him miserably. ‘And then here you ride back into the keep three months later with that dazzling smile as if you’ve not a care in the world.’

The chevalier sighed, holding his hands to the flames. ‘Appearances can be deceiving Ophelia, you must realise by now a chevalier is trained to entertain a court with grace at all times. I was simply playing my part before King Alistair, the Divine and the Head of the Templar Order. That is all I see when I look at their faces.’. He threw a small smile at me. ‘To you I can speak honestly. It is has been a difficult time for me. My marriage that once was, is now over.’. Michel shook his blonde head tiredly. ‘I was devastated, yes at first, but soon my sadness developed into anger. And then as I processed the betrayal of Rose and accepted the situation, I realised in the end_….that I felt relieved_.’. The half-elf chuckled bitterly. ‘The irony of accepting a situation with grace is that you end up feeling rather robbed of acting out the unsophisticated reactions one tends to crave. Violence towards Cullen? Slander against Rose? No, I knew my acceptance of the situation was the only path to take. And yet I confess Ophelia, despite my clarity in the end I did feel very alone.’

‘You weren’t alone though.’ I replied softly. ‘I was here for you. I sent that letter to you so you’d know you were never alone.’

Michel ran his hand to his pocket and withdrew something that vaguely looked like the letter I had sent months back. It was well folded and crumpled as he tapped it in his hand.

‘I read this so much it’s beginning to tear at the sides.’ he admitted, throwing an embarrassed smile. ‘Your words soothed me. And I wanted desperately to offer my own words back but every time I picked up that quill all I could think of to write was all the unpleasant tasks I’d been doing in Orlais.’. Michel’s elegant fingers pressed against his closed eyes as he recalled the days in Lapin with displeasure. ‘When I arrived home I was forced to clean up the mess Rose had made. It was I who had to ride over to Val Royeaux and explain to her dear mother and father what had occurred. Telling them their daughter had run off with a Ferelden commoner was the worst news I could have ever relayed to the pair. As terrible as it sounds, her death would have been far better received by the Doucy household. I had to look into my uncle’s eyes and witness his disappointment when I told him my marriage was over. Then I had to finalise my divorce. Sell my house in Lapin. Auction off all the possessions in my manor because I could not bear to hold on to those memories. I had to send back all the gifts given to us for our wedding, and write a note to each guest explaining the reason. Alexandre and I sat up most nights writing letters. Three hundred and forty-nine of them.’. The chevalier sighed, shaking his blonde head in frustration. ‘I didn’t want to write another word about Rose and Cullen and yet that was all I could think about. I wanted my letter to you to be filled with other things.’. Michel turned to look at me with an encouraging nod. ‘And I knew when I was ready I would come back to you and I’d never worry about that part of my life again. I’m so sorry for denying you peace of mind, but you must believe me when I say it was not done intentionally.’

My eyes caught his before turning away nervously. Desperately I wanted to reach out to him but I was scared. Scared of being rejected if I truly revealed what I felt for this man. Maybe he’d shun me, telling me I had my chance long ago and ruined it? Maybe he’d lavish me with sweet promises in the beginning only to decide I was worth only the time we shared between the sheets? I was terrified of all the possible scenarios and so I remained quiet.

‘Do you forgive me for not writing?’ asked Michel gently, shuffling closer so we sat directly side by side. ‘That letter was a piece of you I could carry around wherever I went. And I did every day.’ he confessed, placing the letter back in his pocket. ‘Thank you for sending it to me.’

Unable to catch his beautiful blue eyes, I focused instead on wiggling the fingers of my shaking hands by the fire. The chevalier betrayed a fond smile as he noticed my unease.

‘Are you nervous, _da’len assan_?’ he asked softly. ‘You needn’t ever be afraid of me.’

_Little Arrow. _His elvish name for me filled me with a warmth I couldn’t explain. The way Michel said it in elvish sounded like it was full of so much love and affection.

‘I think I’ve felt a little nervous around you since I saw you in Denerim at the Landsmeet Chamber.’ I confessed with an embarrassed laugh. ‘It’s stupid, I know. I don’t know why, you just make me feel a little flighty.’

Michel nodded, as if he understood. ‘My heart beats fast as we speak.’ he confessed, casting me a mischievous grin on his chiselled jaw. ‘I know why it does. It’s not because I fear you.’

My heart began to beat faster. ‘Maybe you should see an alchemist about that.’ I joked.

‘I don’t think a prescription of leeches will cure what ails me.’ replied Michel playfully. Noticing my quietness, the chevalier frowned in concern. ‘What is it? Tell me what you are thinking?’

‘Do you forgive me?’ I asked, causing the half-elf to turn his head curiously. ‘I was the reason Cullen took Rose to-‘

‘No, you’re not to blame.’ interjected Michel in a soft voice. ‘Please _da’len assan_, you were not the reason they did what they did. At the end of the day, Cullen and Rose decided to be with each other because they wanted to be.’

‘And you’re okay?’ I asked tentatively.

Michel threw me a reassuring nod and placed his strong hand on mine. ‘I wasn’t at first, but I am now.’

Lacing his fingers through mine, the chevalier’s warm palm pressed against my own. My heart throbbed as I felt his skin against mine. It was such a simple act and yet his large hand wrapped around mine felt like so much more.

The chevalier watched me closely as we held hands, as if trying to determine my reaction.

‘Is this okay?’ he asked gently. ‘To touch you like this?’

Delicately he ran his thumb along my hand, stroking the skin between my thumb and forefinger as he watched my response. My fingers welcomed his, each feather light touch of skin vibrating through my flesh and sending pangs to my core. I’d forgotten this feeling. It was warm and overwhelmed my head with a buzzing hum. I didn’t want to let go of his hand. I never wanted to let go ever again.

His intense blue eyes looked at me in silence and yet I could sense the unspoken dialogue of his feelings pouring into me.

‘Yes it’s perfect. But I’m scared if I let go you’ll disappear.’ I admitted. ‘You don’t know how scared I was I’d never see you again.’

Michel’s warm smile grew as he lifted my hand. The chevalier cradled my palm in his, tenderly as if it were a skittish dove, and gently he placed his soft lips on the back of my hand. As he planted that deep kiss, his chivalrous blue eyes lifted and melted me on the spot_. __La baiser de la petite mort._ Tales of the power held in a chevalier’s kiss on a hand of a lady were spun throughout the lands. One kiss was all it took to hypnotise any woman. And as Michel performed this simple act I felt hypnotised and unable to tear away from his beautiful blue eyes.

‘You do not need to fear that_, __da’len assan_.’ reassured Michel. ‘I’m here. And I promise I won’t ride off again.’

‘For how long though?’ I asked. ‘Until you’ve satisfied your contract with the Chantry? Until your Emperor calls you to return?’

‘You wish me to live here forever in The Cock and Bull and wipe tables for Varric?’ the chevalier asked playfully, flashing me a brilliant smile. ‘You wouldn’t be that cruel would you?’

Grinning in embarrassment, I shook my head. ‘No I know your life is in Orlais being a chevalier.’

‘Champion.’ corrected Michel with a pleased grin.

My eyes widened in surprise. ‘Seriously? You’re Champion to Emperor Gaspard?’

The chevalier nodded. ‘After I complete this mission that is to be my new position.’

‘The Champion of Orlais.’ I echoed, shaking my head in disbelief. ‘Now that’s a title.’. I threw him a smile. ‘Congratulations Michel. There’s no one more deserving of it. I’m so happy for you.’

‘Thank you.’ accepted the chevalier politely. ‘I feel as if I’ve come full circle once more. To serve again as Champion is something I relish. Eventually I will have to return to Orlais to begin my role. There is no avoiding my duty.’

Catching my crestfallen expression upon hearing he would certainly leave, Michel fell silent.

‘Let us hope this mission takes a while.’ he observed softly. The half-elf grew quiet, his blue eyes lifting to mine. ‘Ophelia, the truth is my Emperor has instructed I aid the Chantry, but I didn’t return here for the mission. I’m here because you called me home.’. Patting his pocket where my letter was kept, the chevalier smiled. ‘The south wind called me home and I must oblige.’

‘It was a ridiculous poem.’ I replied in embarrassment.

‘No, it was the reason I came back.’ informed the chevalier seriously. Placing a hand across his heart, Michel lowered his head in respect. ‘As my mother used to say; _ma vhenan a ma vhenas_. _My heart is my home_.’

‘Tarasyl’an Te’las is your home then?’ I asked quietly.

The chevalier shook his head with a smile. ‘No Ophelia, that is not what I meant.’

The Orlesian ran his broad hand to my face and leant over, placing a delicate kiss on my cheek. Lingering beside my face, his sweet scent of amber and orange consumed me and I didn’t dare pull away.

‘_You are my heart_.’ Michel whispered by my ear. ‘I missed you, _da’len assan_. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I thought my heart might have burst when I saw you there in the courtyard before. There is no one in this world I wanted to see more, and there you were smiling at me as if you felt just the same?’

‘I did feel the same. I missed you so much.’ I whispered back joyously.

The chevalier placed another kiss on my cheek, this time slower and deeper, melting into my skin. His slight blonde stubble scratched softly as his cheek brushed against mine, breathlessly drawing his lips to my ear.

‘Is it okay to do this?’ he asked tenderly, returning his lips gently to my cheek. ‘To kiss you like this? I’ve dreamt for a long time just to feel your skin against my lips Ophelia.’

My lips fell to his face and placed a kiss on his muscular jaw. His porcelain white skin was covered in a light blonde stubble and my lips crushed onto his soft hair with affection.

‘I miss that feeling too Michel.’ I whispered.

My eyes lulled close in pleasure as I felt the chevalier’s lips lightly trace to my neck, barely touching my skin as he ran his lips along my skin.

‘And this?’ he whispered, planting a soft kiss on my nape. ‘How does this feel, _da’len assan_?’

I answered with a soft moan as the chevalier began to place another kiss on my neck. Surrendering to his politely restrained desires on the second kiss, the chevalier’s tongue lapped between his lips onto my skin. A warm tingling sensation stirred as I felt his wet heat teasing me and the chevalier continued to make contact with his tongue on my flesh. A throaty moan of pleasure escaped his lips as he drew his hand gently to my neck and placed several more urgent kisses as I surrendered willingly to him.

‘Do you like it…?’ asked Michel huskily, his lips drawing to my ear. ‘…when I taste you with my tongue? I miss licking you like that.’

‘_Michel_.’ I laughed, embarrassed at how openly he expressed himself at times. It was turning me on but I also felt scared that someone would walk in from the library and overhear us.

The chevalier laughed, shrugging his shoulders playfully. ‘I cannot lie about what I miss.’

My lips lowered to his ear. ‘Then yes, I do miss you doing that.’

The chevalier grinned. ‘I thought so.’. He stroked my hair fondly, running his strong hand up past the base of my skull and into my tresses. ‘I miss the heat of your body against mine, _da’len assan__.’ _confessed Michel_ ‘_I miss the heat of your body when I am in you. _Do you miss that?’_

His voiced was drenched in sex and I nodded breathlessly, unable to string words together as he hungrily kissed beside my ear. Deft hands ran to my waist, stroking the outline of my hips in a way that no chaste man does. With strong arms the chevalier lifted me onto his lap, so I was face to face with him. He placed a hand on my rapidly rising chest, as if trying to calm me.

‘You don’t need to be afraid of this if it feels right.’ he whispered. Michel lifted his blue eyes to mine, melting into my gaze as he spoke his ardent words. ‘Does it feel right to you, _da’len assan_?’

As I straddled his lap I tried to ignore the fact that this was an extremely sexual position to be placed in. My legs were open, wrapped around his broad thighs. Yet Michel invited us both to entertain new scenarios and something within me desperately wished we were both stripped bare in that moment.

‘This is what I want.’ I confessed, resting my forehead against his. ‘I’m not afraid.’

‘I’m not afraid of my desires either, Ophelia.’ Michel vowed. ‘I won’t deny what I feel in my heart. That is not the person that I am. I tried to supress my passions and urges when I was with Rose. I tried desperately to be someone else. But no, _I refuse to ever again deny what is in my heart_.’

Closing my eyes painfully, his words struck my heart. I knew that horrible feeling of closing off my feelings for someone and denying that I cared or craved them. I had done that with Michel when he had left Denerim all those years back, and in my anger for him I found a false sense of relief.

Drawing back, he fondly clasped my hands in his. ‘I’m not afraid anymore Ophelia. My whole life I’ve hidden so much of my shame. It took Rose forcing me to bring it all up to realise there was so much I was willing to bury. I hid so much of my life from her. Foolishly I believed I could bury my feelings for you but I know in the end it only resulted in a volcano erupting. She and Cullen were not so wrong about me. _I do still have feelings for you_.’. His face grew more serious, nodding in acknowledgement to his fears. ‘You and I were betrayed and it has been hard for us both. _But_ _I want to move on._’. Michel’s eyes sought mine desperately, as if he feared to ask the question but could not bare living without an answer. ‘Is there something here, Ophelia? Between you and I? For I feel it as strong as the tide pulling us back and forth, never letting us go. The moment I returned to Skyhold I felt something stir between us.’

My hand shook as I lifted it to his chest, placing my palm over his beating heart. His breast radiated warmth, even beneath his white cuirass. Michel looked to me, suppressing his passionate declarations behind an endearing patient smile.

‘You are one of the few things that are good in my life. I never want to let you go._’ _I whispered. ‘_Ar lath ma, vhenan.’_

_I love you, my heart_.

Michel lifted his blonde brows in surprise, his mouth opening but unable to respond. A soft expression fell across his face, as if he did not believe his own ears at the words that touched him.

‘You…_love me_?’ he asked softly.

Fear filled my eyes as I looked to the surprised chevalier.

‘I’m sorry to put that on you right now.’ I apologised, my heart pounding painfully. ‘I shouldn’t have…and of course you don’t feel that way. I just wanted to be honest with you.’

The silence of the chevalier in that moment urged me to retreat from his lap in shock. The furrow on his brow almost appeared to admonish me, as if silently chastising my audacity to profess feelings that in the past I had treated so disrespectfully. _How dare I love him?_ It was foolish he’d ever believe me or accept my feelings.

Moving from the bench, I took in Michel’s silence for a moment longer before turning away. My feet lightly tapped against the wooden floor as I ran to the main door, desperate to burst out of that hall.

My breath quickened as I heard the steady footfall of the chevalier’s boots against the wood, drawing closer to me. Suddenly my hand was caught by his, stopping me at the entrance. Michel refused to let go as I spun back to him. His deep blue eyes willed me to stop struggling, and I fell helplessly towards his chest as he pulled me close.

‘_You love me_?’ Michel asked again, his voice shaking with emotion.

The chevalier stepped closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. His gauntlets were hard against my lower back, pulling me to his firm armoured body. His strength anchored my body to him, refusing to release me.

‘Yes.’ I confessed. ‘_I love you, Michel_.’

The chevalier ran his strong hands from my waist up my spine, to where he gently held the back of my neck. His blue eyes looked passionately into mine, refusing to part even for a second.

‘_I love you_.’ he declared adamantly, his mouth crushing onto mine.

The heat of our lips ignited our senses as we shared that first passionate kiss. Soft lips pressed together, the chevalier fell deep into my mouth. The polite dynamic suddenly changed as his sweet lips engulfed mine, hungrily sucking my lips and crushing tenderly through them with his tongue. As I tasted his soft lips with enthusiasm, his kisses responded by growing more passionate.

Trembling, I felt his warm hands against my skin. That forgotten sensation of his fingers exploring each curve of my body as he refused to part his lips from mine. The chevalier moaned into each kiss, breathlessly falling deeper and deeper as he surrended to his suppressed desires.

Pulling away from him, I pleaded to him desperately in sudden protest. ‘I don’t feel worthy of your love. I don’t deserve your love. How can you ever believe me?’

The chevalier drew a finger to my lip, encouraging me to silence my fears. ‘Ophelia, _I feel just as you do_.’ reassured Michel. ‘It was a long journey we both had to make in order to come back to each other. But we are both different now. Who we were years ago is not who we are now. Let us not throw away _what we have now_, ever again.’

My eyes turned away in shame, knowing that I had thrown it away years ago. The chevalier gently placed his fingers on my chin to turn my head back to him.

‘We both have loved others and yet still we return to each other.’ observed Michel softly. ‘_Because_ _we are meant to be together_.’

‘But can you ever trust me again?’ I pressed, refusing to let the matter slide. ‘I don’t want there to be this destructive mistrust. Like Cullen had. I can’t be with someone who is constantly mistrusting me, or controlling me. I am not who I was all those years ago. I need you to know that. I love only you. From this moment on.’

Michel held my head in his hands affectionately. ‘And I am not Cullen _mon cherie, _I would never control you or mistrust you. _We all make mistakes_. I’ve made many in the past, I cannot stand here and claim I’m perfect. Promise me our love will stay true and I will trust you. If you promise me now then I will _never_ carry doubt in my heart. Despite all that has happened with Rose. Despite all that happened with us. I will not permit the past to blemish my opinion of love. I swear to you that I love you and no other from this moment on. Love is beautiful and I will embrace it with an open heart.’

‘I promise.’ I vowed, silently pleading to myself to never break his heart. This was a chance to love and be loved, and I wanted it more than anything. ‘I’ll love you with all my heart, Michel.’

‘_Ma emma lath, ma vhenan’ara_.’ Michel whispered affectionately, clutching my cheeks with a brilliant smile. ‘You are my love. My heart’s desire. _Ar lath math_.’. Michel planted anther soft kiss, willing to part from my lips only to confess his love. ‘_Ar lath math. Ar lath math. Ar lath math’_ he laughed happily.

‘_Ar lath math’_ I laughed back between kisses, running my hands through his blonde hair affectionately. ‘_Var lath vir suledin, Michel_.’

‘Yes, our love will endure.’ he declared. Michel kissed my lips again, this time more passionately. ‘_Var lath vir suledin. _Let me love you. Ophelia. I want to protect you from this cruel world you’ve had to battle. Let me guard you from that and take care of you.’

‘Let me love you and protect you too, Michel.’ I declared. ‘You deserve someone who embraces everything about you with complete respect and honour. I love you. As an elf. As a chevalier. As the kind loving soul I see before me.’

‘_Ar lath ma.’_ whispered Michel passionately, wiping away the emotion that spilled from his eyes.

My own tears began to fall as we fell into another kiss.

‘We cannot cry.’ laughed Michel, wiping away my tears with his large thumbs. ‘No, we must rejoice. Ophelia I swear to be the man that you deserve. Not one that treats you with cruelty or speaks to you with callous language. Let me show you how strong a gentle love can be. You and I deserve nothing less.’’

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I embraced the chevalier. He had come home to me and this time I would never let him go. I’d never had a real home but in Michel I had found one. His heart was my home.

_Michel was my home._


	168. A Storm Approaches

Reluctantly I had left Michel that morning at the main hall to return to my duties in the war room; where Leliana was waiting to discuss something I suspected no one wanted to listen to. It was hard to see Michel walk away down that the dark passage of the keep as he descended towards _The Cock and Bull_ to unpack and settle back into Skyhold. Duty and work be hanged, all I wanted right at that moment was for his company. It felt like I hadn’t spoken to Michel, _as in_ _really spoken to him_, for four and a half years and there was so much I wanted to say. He was my only concern. Neither Leliana or Cullen, or even Alistair, bothered me as I proceeded towards the war room. All I could think about was how thankful I was that after all those years Michel loved me equally as I loved him.

_There was hope for better days to come. _

My starry eyes smiled as I entered the dark war room, full of cheer and promise as one would enter a tavern at the end of the week. Unlike a tavern however, the faces that greeted me were rather sober. In fact they seemed intent on all holding the same taciturn expression, mirrored from face to face. Leliana, Cassandra and Jowan appeared in the middle of an uncomfortable conversation, clearly unaware I’d even entered the room as they quarreled amongst themselves. The former Spymaster appeared defensive with her arms crossed tight on one side of the war table, while Jowan and Cassandra stood on the other throwing her stern glares.

‘This is wrong, Leliana.’ warned Cassandra. ‘You cannot use your leverage with the King of Ferelden to insert yourself in a Chantry mission. Not one as important as this. You have no place here.’

Leliana glared at the Divine in annoyance. ‘So what are you saying Cassandra? Are you really going to go against the direct orders of the king?’

‘He’s not my king.’ replied Cassandra icily. ‘I’m Her Most Holy Elizabeth whose rightful place is in the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. I’d sooner follow Emperor Gaspard over any orders coming from Alistair Theirin. You knew my sentiments regarding your involvement in this mission. It’s too personal for you to be directly involved. I gave you an answer and it was a clear _no. _Yet because it wasn’t the answer you wanted you’ve used your connections with Ferelden to weasel your way in.’

‘So the mother of Valahorn is prevented from aiding in this mission but the father is fine to lead the mages into battle with this demon?’ snapped Leliana, looking over to Jowan in heated accusation. ‘I have as much a right to be included as he does.’

Jowan scoffed, crossing his arms crisply. ‘What _exactly_ are you proposing to bring to the table, Leliana? I’m the senior enchanter of this mage order. I’ve arcane talent that outmatches any mage and my skills serve this cause in a way that will ensure our success.’. He raised a black robed sleeve, directing to the Divine beside him. ‘Cassandra represents the Chantry and is obliged to oversee this mission. _What exactly are you proposing to offer?_’

‘_Information_.’ hissed Leliana, clearly becoming impatient with the pair. ‘Do you really think I learnt nothing of that demon? I learnt much and it concerns me that _you_ of all people are intent on preventing me to speak about it.’

Jowan raised an amused brow, turning to Cassandra who rolled her eyes to silently suggest she agreed with Jowan.

‘You think I’m protecting Sapientes?’ chuckled Jowan. ‘Do you have any idea _how insulting_ that is to suggest to me - of all people? _Valahorn’s father._ Secretly in cahoots with that ancient demonic cretin.’

Leliana shrugged. ‘Why else would you refuse to hear my information about him?’

Drawing his fingers to his brow, Jowan groaned. ‘You never listen, do you? For years I lived with Sapientes and learnt my magic _from him_. Not as a prisoner, but as his beloved _noctis filus_. He groomed me into a powerful maleficar. He opened himself up to me and don’t underestimate my eagerness to listen and learn. I remember in great detail every word ever uttered from his mouth. Who better to know the cretin than I? Your version of Sapientes is whatever he decided to feed to you at the time. I know how calculating he can be. So no, I won’t place weight on the dubious breadcrumbs you wrongly believe can aid us on this mission.’

‘But to not even hear me out?!’ protested Leliana ‘It makes no sense neither of you want to hear what I have to say! I’m seriously doubting your suitability to lead this mission, Cassandra.’

‘This is the very reason you shouldn’t be a part of this mission.’ observed Cassandra starkly. ‘We’ve explained to you our reasons and you turn around and say _that_.’

Jowan pointed a sharp finger at Leliana, refusing to budge on the matter. ‘Demons tortured you for four years and you expect us to believe you’ve dealt with it? And you're ready to fight this demon now? You shouldn’t be working on anything aside from recovering. But naturally if you refuse to stop badgering us until you’ve told us your information - then tell us. Here in this room, _right now_.’

Leliana shook her head in frustration as Jowan rolled his eyes.

‘Leliana you must let us do our jobs.’ implored Cassandra patiently. ‘We cannot put all our energy in fighting you over this when there are more pressing issues to deal with.’

‘Alistair said I could be involved in this mission.’ repeated Leliana angrily. ‘Refuse me all you want but you cannot refuse the King of Ferelden.’

‘He needs us more than we need him.’ pointed out Cassandra sternly. ‘Alistair needs the Templars and mages to help defeat Sapientes. All he brings to this mission is his personal involvement through his ties to Caerwyn and Valahorn.’

Leliana shook her head determinedly. ‘And where do you think all your Templars are housed, Cassandra? _On Ferelden land._ Alistair holds sway on this matter whether you like it or not.’

‘You’re reaching at straws.’ scorned Jowan. ‘The answer is a clear _no_. You are not being involved in this mission.’

Her green eyes flashed angrily at the pair, furious at their determination to prevent her from helping. ‘Don’t think I’ll forget the way you both have tried to keep me from this mission.’ informed Leliana angrily. ‘One day Ferelden may not be so welcoming to your mages. Jowan. Or your Chantry influence, Cassandra. The decision you make in this room today could hold more weight than you realise in the future.’

Knowing a serious threat when I heard one, I stepped towards the group.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I demanded, locking eyes with Leliana. ‘What does our mages future have to do with this decision?’

Her green eyes refused to leave mine as a small curl formed on her smirking face. ‘Do you really wish to know how matters relating to Ferelden may involve me in the days to come?’

‘Explain yourself.’ ordered Cassandra, the tone in her voice so sharp it cut through the thick air of the tense room.

All eyes were on Leliana she stood there, her posture straightening a little as if she relished the explanation she was about to give to the room.

‘Alistair and I are officially courting.’ she informed matter-a-factly. ‘We love each other.’

Jowan and I exchanged swift glances, fearful by the cheery confession. We knew this was the worst scenario we could have hoped for regarding Alistair’s choice of partner.

‘_You love each other._’ echoed Cassandra coldly. With a bitter laugh, she shook her head in disbelief. ‘Andraste help us, of course you do.’

‘Yes we do, _Cassandra_.’ replied Leliana in annoyance. ‘And Alistair supports my decision _to be here_. It would be unwise to cross him.’

‘Cross him, or you?’ I quipped irritably, shaking my head in disgust. ‘How can you stand there and threaten us when all we are trying to do is help?’

Leliana laughed at the comment. ‘Like how you helped rescue me? You all failed me. You need someone who will _make things happen_. That is what I do best.’

‘It took years to train my mages to prepare themselves for the Fade.’ explained Jowan defensively. ‘We didn’t give up on you Leliana; we just weren’t ready to face Sapientes. Before you returned we were about to go in with Cullen and his Templars to rescue you.’

‘Many thanks for the thought but I rescue myself.’ replied Leliana darkly. ‘And I will rescue my son from his ill fate - by defeating Sapientes. All that matters now is I aid you all. And if Alistair says it’s fine for me to be involved then you must agree, despite your opinions. Things have changed and you all must accept it. I am his partner now, whether you like it or not.’

‘You’re not the Queen.’ argued Cassandra. ‘Just someone that’s _entertaining_ the king.’

Leliana laughed, resting her hands against the table with a dangerous glint in her eye. ‘Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Cassandra.’

‘So this is why you’re here?’ interjected Jowan, attempting to diffuse the bubbling anger he could sense growing in the Seeker beside him. ‘To force yourself into this mission with threats? Why come in here and ask at all? Clearly we’ve no say in the matter.’

‘That is exactly what she is doing?’ observed Cassandra angrily. ‘I understand you’re hurt by the Chantry removing your title as Divine Victoria. But that was not my decision. The Council made that call.’

‘It’s about my son.’ snapped Leliana. ‘Not you, or the Chantry.’

Jowan threw a suspicious look to the ex-spymaster, unable to get past the fact that Leliana was in a relationship with the King of Ferelden. ‘You and Alistair are now lovers? _Why_?’

‘Because we love each other!’ replied Leliana impatiently. ‘Is it so hard for you all to believe that Alistair and I love each other?’

‘_Yes_.’ we all replied in unison.

Grabbing her satchel, the ginger haired woman flashed a furious glare at us as she departed the room. ‘Wake up the three of you.’ she chastised. ‘I’m not going away so you better get used to me being here. We are going to work together and defeat Sapientes. That is the way it is going to be from now on.’

Swinging the doors open roughly, Leliana stormed out leaving us in our shocked silence.

‘So she’s got her claws into the King of Ferelden.’ observed Cassandra darkly, casting a concerned look to Jowan. ‘This is not good for Ferelden, or for you. Or for me.’. Cassandra looked over to me. ‘Or for you.’

Jowan began pacing room as he clutched his temples, clearing frustrated at the whole situation that was snowballing into a disaster before our eyes.

‘I realise she is Valahorn’s mother but this is the worst alliance Alistair could have made.’ observed Jowan rigidly. He cast his dark eyes towards me. ‘Leliana and Alistair will raise our children as their own. We’ll lose them entirely.’

‘She’s delusional, there is no way Alistair is seriously courting her.’ I dismissed. ‘Leliana? A former Orlesian spy? _Really?_ He’s not that much of an idiot.’

‘And if he is?’ pressed Jowan.

Cassandra nodded, as if she agreed with Jowan’s rhetorical question.

Shaking my head sternly, I locked eyes with the mage. ‘There is no way Leliana and Alistair are pushing us out of our children’s lives.’

‘Well I’m not waiting around for the royal wedding invitation.’ warned Jowan. ‘She doesn’t get a second chance to turn my life upside-down. Leliana may have fooled me once, but never again.’

Clutching his head in frustration, he marched out of the room leaving Cassandra and I alone.

‘Just when I think things can’t get more complicated, Leliana has a way of always doing the impossible.’ muttered Cassandra.

‘Can you imagine what would happen if she becomes Queen?’ I grimaced. ‘I feel like I’m walking on eggshells in Ferelden as it is. If she becomes Alistair’s wife there will be no living in this kingdom. When she is Queen _everyone will suffer_.’

The Divine shook her head. ‘Don’t even entertain that. To think when Leliana returned from the Fade I felt sorry for her? I actually believed she had changed from the experience. But beneath it all she is still the same Leliana we all knew. Pulling the strings of the King of Ferelden is something she would relish. I just never believed she’d be able to pull it off.’

‘It just goes to show _how stupid_ Alistair is.’ I muttered. ‘He’s being manipulated by Leliana in the worst way. His responsibility is to Ferelden. Every choice he makes is supposed to be for the crown. And now he’s making a mockery of all the suffering we all went through to feather that _fucking kingdom of his._’

Cassandra grabbed her head in pain as she sat by the fire. ‘My head is killing me.’

Biting my lip, I revealed an amused grin at secretly knowing the reason behind the Seeker’s ailment. ‘Cabot’s wine will do that to you. Jowan said he felt a little under the weather this morning because of it.’

Cassandra laughed, recalling the previous night. ‘I’m the guilty party, I was trying to convince him that all wine tastes the same after the first bottle. Jowan wanted to drink something expensive and hard to pronounce, but he was willing to humour me.’

‘He hates all house wine, I don’t know how you managed that.’ I laughed, knowing exactly why Jowan was being so obliging. ‘You two seemed to be having fun last night at _The Herald_?’. Unwilling to suggest there was something going on between them, I awkwardly added. ‘And Knight-Captain Sheldon. He had fun too. So did I.’

Betraying a smile, Cassandra drew the chair closer to the heat of the fire. ‘Jowan’s very funny. I laughed more last night than I have in the last four years combined.’

‘That’s Jowan for you.’ I observed with a fond smile. ‘Witty and full of magic tricks. But a good friend also. He’s been my rock since the day I met him.’

Cassandra’s smile faded somewhat, her eyes turning to me cautiously. ‘The first time we met Jowan he was Athalwolf Guildersleeve.’

‘He’s not that person, Cassandra.’ I replied seriously. ‘Jowan has just been dealt a rough hand in life. He’s made bad choices and been defined by them enough to make a whole lot of good ones afterwards. He is a good person.’

‘He chose to become a blood mage.’ frowned the Nevarren. ‘I’ve read the Kinloch Hold reports about his time there. Senior Enchanter Uldred trained Jowan as a blood mage.’

Looking seriously to the woman, I wasn’t about to entertain her doubts where my friend was concerned. I owed it to Jowan to defend him to my last dying breath. ‘He was going to be tranquilised, Cassandra.’ I argued. ‘Do you have any idea what that does to a person? Finding out _that fate_ is before them? I would have used blood magic if it meant I got to keep my mind.’

Her frown was the only response, but it was clear Cassandra was conflicted.

‘You realise Uldred betrayed Jowan, don’t you?’ I added solemnly, causing the Seeker to look up curiously. ‘Cullen told me Uldred would occasionally reveal the identity of a blood mage within his circle. The Templars were grateful to him, unaware he was using this tactic as deflection from his own practicing of the dark arts. Uldred trained Jowan as a blood mage and then told the Templars about Jowan being a blood mage, all to deflect suspicion from himself.’. My eyes began to moisten and I bit my lip, cursing at how much I too was affected by the events that happened in a tower I never had stepped for in. ‘Jowan was to be tranquilised and by the grace of the Maker he found out before they took him to perform the ritual. He was so young, just a teenager, and was manipulated by a truly evil man who represented a senior enchanter in the tower. Uldred was his mentor and he used Jowan to save his own skin. You can say Jowan chose that path to be a blood mage but we both know it was Uldred. Don’t blame Jowan for choices that weren’t his truly to make.’

‘I didn’t know that.’ replied Cassandra a little sadly. She remained quiet, reflecting on her thoughts as she stared into the flames before her.

‘Jowan chose to aid us here during the Inquisition, using his talents to our advantage. And afterwards.’ I continued ‘He chose to use his talents for the greater good. And I know better than anyone how his bad choices in the past have haunted him, even to this very day. He regrets so much of what he did. Jowan is a maleficar, yes, and a very skilled one - but he is so much more than that. _He’s a good man_.’

Cassandra nodded briefly, arising suddenly from her chair. ‘These are certainly things to think about. You must excuse me, there is much preparation to be done before tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ I echoed, unaware of what Cassandra was referring to. ‘What’s going on tonight?’

A crease formed on the Divine’s brow, unhappy at what was planned. ‘King Alistair has requested a welcome feast. So we can all come together, united in our cause for everyone here in Skyhold to see. He believes it will serve as the morale boost for the mages and Templars.’

‘_Alistair_.’ I groaned. ‘I doubt a night of roast meats and bannocks are going to sweeten the mage’s opinion of the Templars. And we’re not exactly equipped up here to be throwing feasts for kings, Cassandra. Couldn’t you have just told him no?’

Cassandra raised a cynical brow to me. ‘All those years married to him and still you don’t realise that when you are in Ferelden _his opinion_ is the only one that matters. Leliana has figured it out, it’s about time you did too.’. The Seeker sighed, heading for the doors. ‘I need to make the necessary arrangements with your cooks for tonight, we’ll use what we have in the storerooms. And don’t worry, I’ve arranged for food rations to be delivered here that would make Michel de Chevin’s donation look like meager scraps. Your mages will be well provided from now on Ophelia, at least of that I can promise.’

****

Dark clouds gathered that midday, approaching from the north and coming in fast over the mountains. The ominous rumble of thunder hinted the storm’s magnitude, resulting in Knight-Commander Cullen to order his men to secure the camp and prepare for the wild weather.

The Commander stood on the wooden platform behind the walls of their fortification, his attention drawn to the horizon before being distracted by the ginger hair of a woman approaching from the keep. His amber eyes fell towards her as she waved up to him, before disappearing through the gates into the templar encampment.

The winds began to whip as Cullen watched Leliana climb the stairs towards him, her hair scattering wildly like dancing flames licking giant oak logs. He rested his arms against the wooden parapet, examining the perimeter for any places in the encampment the storm could potentially damage.

‘A storm’s coming.’ called out Leliana, joining Cullen by his side. ‘I noticed the sky, blacker than an ash pit, far beyond from the view up in the rookery. The birds are restless; it’s never a good sign.’

Cullen nodded, well aware of the danger approaching. ‘My Templars are securing the camp as we speak.’ he informed ‘And I’ve sent a dozen of my men to aid the mages to clear the courtyard and batten the hatches. We need to minimise the damage. Thank goodness your entourage arrived not a half day later or I’d fear you all would have met your icy graves on Gherlan’s Pass. The roads will be blocked with heavy snow after this passes. You may find your stay here extended by quite some time.’

Leliana sighed, unhappy by the news they were now stuck in Skyhold. Cullen tilted his head curiously to the woman, a curl forming on his lip.

‘Interesting? I thought you’d be happy to be staying?’ observed the templar. ‘You’ve been trying to be involved in this mission and now’s your chance. Cassandra can’t boot you into twelve feet of snow at the gates and send you packing if there’s no way out.’

Leliana raised a cynical brow at Cullen, causing him to laugh.

‘Okay perhaps she can.’ chuckled Cullen.

‘Yes, she can.’ replied Leliana, shaking her head in disapproval.

‘Is our Divine giving you grief?’ smirked Cullen. ‘It’s not like you to be bested by our Seeker.’

‘We used to be friends, but now? She has grown so cold, Cullen.’ observed Leliana despondently. ‘Cassandra is determined to keep me out of this mission. You should have seen how she and Jowan dug in their heels and tried to forbid me from helping. _Helping. _That’s all I want to do.’. She scoffed, shaking her head as she recalled the meeting. ‘You should have seen how they reacted when I told them that-’. Her eyes flickered over to Cullen’s amber eyes. Unable to finish the sentence, Leliana shook her head. ‘Never mind.’

The Knight-Commander threw her a sympathetic smile. ‘If you feel this is where you need to be _then_ _stand your ground. _I can’t speak on behalf the Templar Order but as Knight-Commander I’d recommend and welcome you to work with my Templars. Maker knows we could do with any information about this demon that will help us defeat him. On top of that, you’re a resourceful woman. You’d be an asset to this mission.’

Leliana nodded in appreciation. ‘Thank you Cullen, it means a lot to me that I have your support on this matter. You may be the only person in Skyhold that offers it.’

‘And I always will.’ added Cullen soundly.

Leliana suddenly began to smirk, causing the templar to laugh.

‘Oh Maker help me, it’s never a good sign when you have _that look_.’ mused Cullen. Rubbing his sandy head fondly, he turned to the woman. ‘Dare I ask? Out with it.’

Leliana shook her head, refusing to wipe the smirk now on her face. ‘I heard about you and a certain chevalier’s wife?’

Cullen’s smile faded, as if the subject tired him. ‘Let me guess, straight from the horse’s mouth? Did that irritating Orlesian play a violin as he retold his woeful tale? I can imagine him blotting his crocodile tears with a lace hanky as he recounted how many hardships he’s endured by the wicked Knight-Commander and his runaway Orlesian rose.’

‘No,’ laughed Leliana ‘but Michel did mention something about you pulling the rug out from underneath his marriage. You and Rose de Chevin? I didn’t take you for the type to ruin a happy marriage.’

Cullen scoffed, refusing to be baited by the woman. ‘I’m guessing Michel left out the part where I caught him in bed with Trevelyan. This was while he was _happily married_.’

‘I don’t know what’s more disappointing Cullen.’ yawned Leliana. ‘The fact that _you’re still_ chasing Ophelia after all these years, or the fact that _you’re still _trying to get back at Michel de Chevin? What were you thinking?’

‘We all have our bad habits Leliana.’ replied Cullen sternly, his amber eyes flashing at the woman. ‘As fate would have it, I fall in love with deceitful women. And you have a penchant for manipulating men into relationships they shouldn’t be in.’. The Knight-Commander shrugged, casting his attention to the clouds in the distance. ‘That’s just my opinion, if we’re to assess the appropriateness of certain relationships.’

Her eyes darted to the templar and he caught them with a stern nod.

‘You know about-‘

‘You and the King of Ferelden?’ interjected Cullen dryly. ‘Yes, I heard rumours.’. He threw her a disapproving glance. ‘What_ were you _thinking_?_’

‘Fine.’ frowned Leliana. ‘Let us agree to disagree with our choice of partners.’

Running his hand along his unshaven jaw, Cullen silently examined the woman for a moment before revealing his thoughts. ‘Look, I’ve watched Alistair destroy Ophelia’s life. I don’t want to see you to suffer the same fate. You’ve been through so much already.’

Leliana scoffed at the observation, rolling her eyes at the man. ‘Cullen, please. She became the Queen of Ferelden and bore his child. A child that will one day rule the Kingdom of Ferelden. It wasn’t a hardship; it was a chance for Ophelia to live a privileged life none of us would dare dream of. A once in a lifetime opportunity.’

‘So that’s your endgame? To become the Queen of Ferelden?’ pressed Cullen. His flung his hand in disgust towards the horizon, as if the notion sickened him. ‘To ride off into the sunset with that royal idiot and live happily ever after? Leli I know you better than you know yourself. This little bed time story isn’t going to make you happy.’

‘Is your endgame going to make _you_ happy?’ quipped Leliana rigidly. ‘Playing happy marriage games with Michel de Chevin’s wife and living out your days with a frilly Orlesian quiff?’

Cullen turned to her angrily, irritated by Leliana’s crass description of Rose. ‘Why is it so hard for you and Michel and everyone in fucking Skyhold to grasp that I actually care for this woman? I love Rose.’

‘_Love_?’. The curl on her lip grew longer as Leliana silently eyed the templar with amusement. ‘You don’t love Rose de Chevin.’ she finally observed, reading his eyes like a fortune teller.

‘It’s Rose Doucy.’ corrected Cullen icily.

Leliana shook her head. ‘I know you, Cullen. Better than you do at times. And well enough to know without a shadow of a doubt _that you do not love Rose Doucy_.’

‘And I know _you_ well enough to know that you do not love Alistair Thierin. You’re playing him like a cheap fiddle.’ replied Cullen darkly, a smirk of his own growing on his face. He chuckled as Leliana’s smug expression faded. ‘Oh yes, _there it is_. Her true colours revealed for a split second. I imagine it would have been effortless on your part to win over dopey Alistair Thierin. But for what purpose, Leliana? There’s always a purpose with you. There’s always a plan.

‘You tell yourself that if it helps you feel better.’ dismissed Leliana. ‘Rejection is hard, even years down the track. That I returned from the Fade and fell into another man’s arms that weren’t your own must have irritated you to the core. Your possessive nature cannot bear losing anything. Be it me, or Ophelia. You want it all but in the end _you’ll have nothing_.’

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he began to walk along the platform towards the stairs. ‘Alistair better be ready for when you decide to show your real self to him.’ he mused. ‘Perhaps an unplanned pregnancy will secure your ties to him and the kingdom? He seems to collect all his heirs that way.’

Cullen’s sandy head disappeared into the encampment below as she glared at him icily.

‘Be on your guard Leliana.’ called out the Knight-Commander. ‘Once the storm hits there’ll be no escape.’


	169. Feast of Feelings

‘Okay I’m coming down, don’t laugh.’ announced Jowan as he climbed down from the ladder from his bedroom loft.

Admiring my dress in the mirror, I chortled at Jowan’s warning. ‘Oh don’t worry, I’m already laughing at you for the fact that you take _twice_ _as long as me to get dressed_.’

Whistling at the mage, I clapped my hands in approval as Jowan extended his arms playfully and did a spin. His dapper style was evident in his choice of Orlesian black damask silk shirt and woollen black trousers, and his long black hair tied back in an elegant ponytail.

‘Watch out crème de la crème of fine society, Ser MacLothlorean is in town!’ I grinned, drawing my hand to his black silk shirt. ‘This is very nice.’

He playfully slapped my hand away. ‘Don’t, you’ll crease it.’. Jowan frowned, turning to the mirror as he looked at himself dubiously. ‘Is it too much? Tell me the truth - am I one step away from being tragic? Strutting around in a silk shirt on top of the Frostback Mountains. Who does that?’

Throwing him an uneasy look, I feared to ask the question. ‘This isn’t… Athalwolf’s shirt is it?’

‘No it is not!’ informed Jowan indignantly. ‘I purchased it a few years ago I was in Orlais. I just never got the opportunity to wear it anywhere. I didn’t think some crusty feast in the main hall was where I was going to enjoy it for the first time.’

‘Well it suits you.’ I observed. ‘Even if it only gets to be admired by the people in the main hall.’

Prying himself from his reflection, Jowan turned to run his eyes up and down me with a smile. ‘Very beautiful, Ophelia. And so is the dress. I’m sure a certain chevalier will love it.’

Admiring the velvet material with my hand, I playfully nudged Jowan from the mirror to look at my outfit again. It was a pretty dress that I had picked up years ago in a strange tailors shop in Denerim; a black dress with short sleeves that cut low at the front and fell low at the back.

‘It’s no ball gown, I grant you.’ I acknowledged. ‘But I like it. It’s classy - in a _smoky Tevinter Opium Den kind of way_.’

‘It suits you, numbskull.’ grinned Jowan. Pointing a sharp finger at me he added. ‘And stay away from those dens, I already warned you.’

Grabbing a black silk cravat lying on his desk, I began tying it around the mages neck. ‘Cassandra is going to love you in this outfit.’ I observed knowingly. ‘As cliché as it sounds, black is definitely your colour.’

‘Does it suit this evil little maleficar.’ he replied, scrunching his nose playfully. ‘And same goes for you, black is good for all maleficars.’. Jowan grinned as I focused on his knot. ‘So…_you and Michel_?’

Unable to stop myself, a large smile grew on my lips.

‘_Oui_.’ I replied playfully. I had been bursting to tell Jowan all day about Michel and I but hadn’t gotten the chance until now. ‘Michel told me he loves me. And I told him I loved him.’. Biting my lip, I couldn’t contain my excitement. ‘We’re together, Jowan.’

Jowan laughed, turning to the mirror to admire his reflection. ‘_C’est bon!_ Finally I can approve of your choice. He’s not the nightshift templar from my old circle that used to watch me sleep, or some cheese obsessed king that encourages my son to call him _daddy_.’

‘No he’s the man that loves to impress you with his stylish blue clothing.’ I teased.

‘I’ll take that over the other two any day.’ argued Jowan. The mage grew serious as he looked at me in the reflection of the mirror. ‘Aside from yours truly, Michel’s the only one who ever gave a damn about you. Don’t let him go.’

‘You just want more hampers of food.’ I teased.

‘Of course I do.’ grinned Jowan. Buckling his belt, he nodded in satisfaction. ‘Okay I’m ready. Let’s do this.’

After a long afternoon of classes, Jowan and I had managed to dress for the feast and arrive at the hall in the nick of time. To my irritation, the passage to my chambers had been opened up for Cabot to store drinks for the night and Madame Ruthie to store the food prepared from the kitchens that afternoon, and so I had been forced to get dressed in Jowan’s study that evening. Cabot smugly informed me his duties in serving the king fine wine and ale that night made it imperative he take up half my room with barrels and dusty bottles, while Madame Ruthie unapologetically claimed her pies and breads had nowhere else to go but piled up in my chambers waiting to be served. And so I grabbed a dress and went to Jowan’s loft. Although my friend and I had agreed not to entertain Alistair’s whim and dress up for the occasion, we secretly did for the benefit of other guests bound to be in the main hall that night.

The room was filled to the brim when we arrived, and through a sea of mages, Templars Ferelden knights and soldiers we spotted the head table at the back of the hall. There at the centre sat King Alistair and Divine Elizabeth, and further down sat Cullen, Rose, Knight-Captain Arrus, and Knight-Captain Sheldon. On the other side of Alistair sat Leliana, and beside her Varric, Michel de Chevin, and several spare seats reserved for the senior enchanters.

‘Perfect. Just perfect.’ muttered Jowan, casting his eyes to the head of the hall. ‘You weren’t joking about Alistair wanting to show our unity by throwing this ridiculous feast. But did we have to all sit together at the same table like a bunch of cretins? I can’t imagine a worse group pretending they all like each other.’. Snapping his fingers in the distance towards where Knight-Captain Arras sat, the mage began walking at a snail pace. ‘We’re to sup with the White Rat? Cullen isn’t the sadistic one here Ophelia, _it’s Alistair_.’

‘Always for appearances. That’s Alistair’s way.’ I observed, clenching my jaw as I glared at the king.

The King of Ferelden was too far away to notice we were looking at him, but even as far as I was I could sense his presence and it filled me with loathing. The way he smiled so warmly in an engaging conversation with Cassandra and Leliana, always putting on the act of a perfect gentleman and king. But he was neither, and I seemed to be the only person who realised it.

‘It’s entirely possible that Alistair was trying to pour salt on the wound. He’d be well aware we’re all not getting along.’ I added darkly. ‘You know what he’s like, that’s his subtle way of goading people.’. Noticing the other Knight-Captain at the table, my frown diminished. ‘Sheldon is there, he’s always good to drink with. It’s not all bad.’

‘He’s on the opposite side of the table to us.’ argued Jowan. ‘Are we to mime conversations with the only palatable templar at the table?’. Groaning, Jowan stopped in his tracks. ‘No I can’t do it. Go on without me.’

‘What is it?’ I laughed. ‘Why can’t you have dinner with them? Just ignore everyone and talk to me.’

‘Varric.’ whispered Jowan urgently ‘He’s next to your chevalier over there, so obviously that means I’m going to end up talking to him for most of the night!’

My eyes caught a flash of blue from the head table and I grinned, locking eyes with the chevalier that just noticed our arrival. Michel smiled back, his eyes lighting up as he looked to me, and I felt a tingle in my stomach from nervous anticipation. A sharp nudge in my side caused me to tear my eyes away and look over once more to my displeased companion.

‘Turn your attention away from the golden god for one moment and _help me.’_ demanded Jowan. ‘I’m in over my head. Varric will be able to read me like a cheap Antivan romance novel.’

‘He’s not a mind reader.’ I scoffed. ‘Besides, nothing has actually happened between you and Cassandra. You’re innocent. _Totally innocent_.’

Jowan raised a dubious brow to me. ‘I can’t stop thinking about her night and day.’

‘A little harmless obsession, nothing more.’ I replied uncertainly, as if I too didn’t believe it was. ‘Look, Cassandra is sitting in-between Alistair and Cullen. You can just pretend she’s not there. And you know Varric; he only wants to drink, spin tales and laugh at everyone. He’s not going to notice anything untoward going on between you and Cassandra. You can hide your feelings - _surely_!’

Jowan appeared unconvinced, crossing his arms seriously as if preparing to chastise one of his students for not doing their homework. ‘As a blood mage I can assure you I’m a fantastic deceiver. My longevity depends on it. But for some blockheaded reason I’m terrible at deceiving friends. _The worst, in fact._ So making merry with our dear rogue and not confessing my attraction to his former lover is going to eat away at me until I blurt it out at some terrible time during the night _and ruin everything.’_

Knowing Jowan needed a little encouragement I grabbed his hand and pulled him along as he groaned in protest.

‘That’s the way, positive thinking.’ I cheered. ‘Come on Donnic, let’s not keep _our friends _waiting any longer.’

Approaching the head table, Michel arose from his seat to greet me with a civil bow. He was dressed in his typical noble attire that evening, with a white tailored waistcoat, a cream silken shirt underneath and black trousers. As I drew closer to the chevalier our eyes refused to leave each other; it was clear we both were battling that urge to embrace each other with unbridled enthusiasm.

‘Bonjour Ophelia. Jowan.’ greeted Michel pleasantly. ‘You are fashionably late, but so too are usually the most beautifully dressed in the room.’. Steeping aside, Michel extended his arm politely to encourage Jowan to pass by to sit in his seat next to Varric.

Jowan waved politely. ‘No no, sit Michel. You were already beside Varric.’

‘Come park yourself here Riddles.’ called out Varric, patting the seat next to him. ‘Trust me kid, something tells me you don’t wanna get in-between those two. Here have some of the shittest wine in Thedas, it’s from Cabot’s cellar.’

Jowan grimaced as he sunk into his seat beside Varric, accepting the wine with a feigned smile.

Unable to wipe the beam of his face, Michel refused to betray our affection to the room where it was apparent many eyes could see our every action. The chevalier merely stood politely, a gentleman with an extended hand, patiently waiting for me to take my seat at the table.

‘Ophelia?’ smiled Michel politely. ‘Shall we?’

Refusing to sit, I shook my head with a smile. ‘No.’

Refusing to react even in the slightest, Michel smiled cheerfully at the refusal. ‘Shall we stand then?’ he suggested merrily.

‘No.’ I replied politely.

The chevalier laughed as he realised I was toying with him. ‘To neither sit nor stand?’ observed Michel coyly. ‘Perhaps we shall dance? _Mon cherie_, let us spin around the room right now!’

Laughing, I shook my head hastily as he playfully extended his hand. Michel was well aware I hated to dance with a passion.

‘There’s two ways forward here.’ I observed. ‘We sit down now at the table and keep our relationship a private matter. Or we start our life _here _out in the open. _With nothing to hide_.’

The chevalier’s expression softened as he stepped closer to me. ‘What do you want to do?’ asked Michel in a gentle voice. His blue eyes lifted across the room before returning to me. ‘After the recent turn of events I don’t wish for any more secrets. I also don’t care for any of these people in particular, or their opinions. But I do care for you, _da’len assan_. If it’s easier to conceal our relationship from their eyes then I will.’

Shaking my head with a smile, I stepped closer to the chevalier. ‘No Michel, that would make it _so much harder_.’

The chevalier revealed a brilliant white smile as he leant forward and placed a kiss on my cheek. He lingered by my ear, his hands clutching mine affectionately.

‘To hide our love would have been the hardest path I could have taken.’ the chevalier whispered. ‘Thank you for not leading me down it.’

My eyes lifted up to his, knowing it was ridiculous to thank someone for not treating me as Cullen had, but I needed to give credit to Michel where credit was due. The way he was choosing to begin this relationship was a great deal different from Cullen’s approach.

‘Thank you for not hiding me away like some terrible secret. I’m not doing you any favours being associated with you. Mage? Fallen queen? Maleficar?’

‘The love of my life?’ the chevalier added with a dazzling smile, causing me to laugh. Michel waved his hand to dismiss my concerns. ‘Ophelia it was you who told me those roles are not what defines who we are. You are simply a woman that I love with all my heart. I am the luckiest person in Thedas.’

A sudden few whistles and shouts of playful banter sounded from several mages and Templars as it became more evident Michel and I were holding each other’s hands and speaking intimately in a way mere friends don’t do at feasts. I turned around to see many eyes pressed on Michel and I, watching curiously from afar.

‘Let them stare, _mon cherie_.’ whispered Michel in my ear. ‘Let all of Thedas see us together.’

I’d barely looked back to the chevalier as I felt Michel’s soft lips press against mine. He smiled as he kissed me, encouraged by the whistles in the crowd who watched in. Wrapping my arms around his neck I returned the kiss, unconcerned who was noticing as I enjoyed the sweetness of his mouth and my fingers fondled the softness of his hair. The Orlesian's hands drew around my waist, and I felt his hard body against mine as he continued the kiss with fervour.

Jowan playfully retched beside us while Varric whistled playfully.

‘Let them see our love -I will never hide it for as long as I live.’ declared Michel passionately. ‘I missed you so much. How can a few hours from you feel like days and days? I saw you in the hall just this morning and I feel like I’ve reunited with you for the first time in centuries!’

‘I’ve aged that well, have I?’ I laughed.

‘Like a fine _fromage_.’ teased Michel.

Knowing exactly how the Orlesian felt, I refused to release my arms from his neck lest he disappear. ‘I’ve never felt this happy Michel. Promise me we’ll leave early. I feel like there is so much I need to say and do.’

Michel tilted his head playfully and I laughed.

‘Do, _mon cherie_?’ he teased.

‘You know what I mean.’ I chuckled.

‘I know what you mean.’ confessed the chevalier. ‘I want to be with you also. And I am’. He laughed merrily, shaking his blonde head in amusement. ‘_Mon dieu_, for once I can actually_ be myself_ with no reservation. You know me, Ophelia. All of me.’

‘And I love every part, Michel.’

A wide smile grew on Michel’s face as he drew to my mouth and we began to kiss once more. Several jeering Templars began yelling _get a room_, followed by Jowan and Varric yelling similar sentiments. Michel and I laughed, forcing ourselves from each other as we turned to see a grinning Varric at the table beside a smirking Jowan.

‘Well well, if it isn’t Goldilocks and Sparrow turning this classy affair into happy hour at _The Blooming Rose_.’ chuckled Varric. ‘Look at you love birds! Kids, I’d say sit down before you cause a scene but it’s too late for that.’

‘Much too late.’ mused Jowan, casting his dark eyes towards Cullen with sinister delight. ‘They’ve been hissing hushed words of venom over there while you both were doing…’. Jowan flicked his hand at us ‘…_whatever you were doing just then_.’

‘This night has more promise than a drunk in Low Town with a bag of gold.’ Varric chuckled.

The chevalier placed another kiss on my cheek as we both finally sat down. ‘My apologies.’ replied Michel pleasantly. ‘It’s wonderful to be back here, for a moment I was swept away with my senses in being in such a place.’

‘Yeah the main hall does that to everyone.’ chuckled Varric, crossing his arms as he eyed us up and down. ‘Well kids, considering how things panned out in the last few months I can’t say I’m that surprised. Yeah but I’m happy for ya. Sure as shit you both needed something good to happen.’. He nudged his head to the other side of the table, where Cullen and Rose sat. ‘You should have seen their faces before, you gave ‘em quite the performance. Curly hasn’t scowled like that since the Inquisition days. Got this dwarf all sentimental for a moment.’

Jowan chuckled. ‘Yes and your ex-wife was so flustered she nearly knocked over an ale on the White Rat. He saved it at the last moment, but the bread basket flipped over him. It was quite entertaining even from as far over here.’

Michel refused to look over at the Knight-Commander and Rose, as if he was not concerned as to what they were doing. More interested in the contents of the bread basket before us, the chevalier choose a bannock delicately and placed it on his plate before looking at it uncertainly. He rolled his eyes as he caught me smirking at him.

‘Bread not up to your standards?’ I teased.

‘Ferelden entrees are different to Orlesian entrees.’ the chevalier observed diplomatically. ‘It’s not to say one is better than the other.’. Michel spun his hand in the air whimsically. ‘Just that caviar and duck pate are usually more palatable than a stale bannock in a basket.’

‘So we can’t win you Orlesians over with bread, good to know.’ I laughed. ‘Don’t worry, we all appreciate Skyhold’s terrible food standards.’

Varric reached over and grabbed a bannock swiftly, his smug grin growing bigger as he eyed up the chevalier between large chews. ‘Come on Goldilocks, you’re tellin’ me you’re not even slightly pissed off at Curly? Challenge him to duel. I reckon that’s all the morale this group needs. Heck, I reckon Curly expects you’re gonna do it.’

‘Whether they believe it or not, I did not return to Skyhold to provoke either Rose or Cullen.’ replied Michel. ‘I refuse to harbour resentment. Indeed I can only wish them felicity in their lives together.’

‘Classy sentiments.’ nodded Varric, sipping his ale. ‘You’re better than me. I’d be punching that smug look off Curly.’

The chevalier shrugged, lacing his fingers through mine as he held my hand. His blue eyes held mine with a warm expression. ‘I’m happy, Varric. I cannot muster anger that I don’t feel. Whether Cullen sees it or not, he has done me a great service.’. Michel shook his head in amusement. ‘I should be thanking him and Rose. Perhaps I should send them a hamper?’

‘Can you imagine?’ I laughed. ‘You’d get your duel with him if you send Cullen a chest full of sweets.’

‘Yeah it’d go down _real _well.’ chuckled Varric. ‘I dunno, I’m not the vengeful type but I reckon if a man steals another man’s wife there should be consequences.’

‘Varric.’ I groaned, shaking my head at the dwarf. ‘Stop trying to fan the flames. No one wants a round of fisty cuffs except for you.’

Jowan took several uneasy sips of his wine, a frown on his face. Varric festively clanked his mug against the mage’s goblet, causing the cheap wine to splash out.

‘You don’t agree, Riddles?’

Jowan hastily lifted the goblet to his lips and took an uneasy sip, his eyes desperately avoiding Varric’s.

‘Well, I…’ Jowan drifted off, his eyes darting between all of us who were waiting for his reply. ‘Perhaps feelings make people do things they don’t usually do?’ observed the mage.

Michel raised his brows, an amused smile on his lips. ‘_Perhaps feelings make people do things they don’t usually do_?’ he echoed, appearing intrigued by the mage’s opinion. ‘Do you think Cullen was justified in his actions? That his feelings for my wife at the time permitted him to do what he desired?’

I threw a sympathetic look at Jowan, who clearly was trying to sail a sinking ship. Only I knew that Jowan was actually referring to his feelings for Cassandra. His observation had nothing to do with Cullen.

‘No Cullen’s a cretin, I don’t think that at all.’ muttered Jowan. He frowned, struggling to find words that conveyed his double entendre. ‘I just think that…true love conquers all.’. Quickly he lifted a goblet towards us, trying to desperately escape the conversation with a syrupy compliment. ‘Like with the two of you.’

‘And those two, eh Riddles?’ taunted Varric, raising his flagon towards Rose and Cullen. The dwarf laughed, shaking his head at the mage. ‘_Perhaps feelings make people do things they don’t usually do_? Ah Riddles, you’re an unspoken romantic. I gotta write that shit in my next edition of Swords and Shields.’

Throwing a dry look to the amused faces of Michel and Varric, I shook my head at the pair. ‘Look at you pious ones, dishing out your opinions. Jowan has a point; sometimes you can’t help what you feel. He’s not saying it’s right what Cullen and Rose did. He’s just saying feelings…’. I rolled my hand, trying to remember the unfortunate phrase. ‘..make people do things they don’t usually do.’

Michel tapped his lip pensively. ‘I suppose my feelings for you made me keep a lot of secrets from Rose?’

‘And I willingly rode down Gherlan’s Pass in the middle of the night because of my feelings for you.’ I added, glaring the chevalier as he threw me an apologetic smile.

Varric shrugged. ‘And my feelings about the Seeker made me take that suicide trip down Gherlan’s Pass so I could get away from her. And…yeah I wrote three romance novels for a woman that in the end chose a dusty bunch of chantry freaks over me.’

With an uneasy smile Jowan shrugged at the three of us, and with a frown we all sipped our beverages in silent contemplation.

_Perhaps Jowan had a point._

***

Leliana smirked as she sipped her wine, casting her eyes to a scene that interested her greatly. She nudged Alistair with her elbow, disturbing him from his conversation with Cassandra. The Ferelden king turned curiously, flashing the woman a smile.

‘Leli? What is it?’

‘It appears Ser de Chevin was not as heartbroken as we believed?’ she observed dryly. ‘Look at them.’

Alistair gazed over, rolling his eyes cynically as he spotted Michel and Ophelia hand in hand, deep in conversation between several kisses.

‘Well there’s a surprise.’ observed the king sarcastically, tapping his goblet with a heavy finger to alert his attendant standing nearby.

Not caring if anyone caught her shamelessly staring at the couple, Leliana rested her head on her hand as she spied on them. ‘They’re so publically affectionate.’ she observed ‘It’s rather…._sweet_.’

As the king waited for more wine to be poured, Alistair’s eyes drifted back to his ex-wife. Ophelia was laughing at something Michel de Chevin had just said to her, her bright smile met with the chevalier’s lips as they fell into a kiss.

Alistair’s irritated expression suggested he didn’t find the display as sweet. 

‘Alistair?’

The king took a sip of wine before pointing his goblet at the pair. ‘I find it strange how Michel claims he was not involved with Ophelia. He swore black and blue there was nothing going on between him and her. Doesn’t look that way to me.’.

‘What do you think Cullen?’ asked Leliana innocently, although it was clear her intentions were cruel. ‘Do you think there’s something going on between Michel and Ophelia?’

Her green eyes looked to the Knight-Commander with painful concentration, as if any reaction he made would be interpreted instantly by the former Spymaster.

Cullen’s attention had been drawn fast to Ophelia since she had arrived at the table, and even now he couldn’t help but throw the occasional disapproving glance in her direction.

‘Evidently there is.’ replied Cullen dryly. He turned his attention to Rose, lifting his brows. ‘You still believe Michel was being honest the entire time?’

The Orlesian lady drew her green eyes to the couple but was unable to look at her ex-husband and Ophelia for more than a few seconds. With a feigned smile, she placed a hand over Cullen’s. ‘No matter what they did that day you walked in on them, this confirms what we always suspected. Thank the Maker our love is stronger than that.’

Cullen ran his finger fondly along Rose’s cheek. ‘He never deserved you.’

‘You do, my love.’ whispered Rose, kissing the Templar’s rugged jaw affectionately.

Leliana’s green eyes narrowed in on the Orlesian lady as she eavesdropped on their conversation, the slit in her eyes growing thinner as Leliana heard Rose refer to Cullen as _my love_.

‘So tell me Rose,’ smiled Leliana ‘when did you and Cullen realise you had such strong feelings for each other?’

Cullen took a swig of ale, scoffing at the comment.

Unlike the Commander, Rose didn’t recognise the loaded question being asked by the former Spymaster. Keen to talk about her relationship with the Knight-Commander, Rose was eager to answer Leliana's inquiry.

‘I believe it was during my third week in Crestwood.’ recounted Rose pleasantly. ‘Cullen took me on this glorious picnic at a lookout by Lake Calenhad and-.

‘Lake Calenhad?’ interjected Alistair, appearing perplexed and highly amused at the same time. The king sunk back in his chair with an air of smug amusement as he cradled his full cup of wine. ‘Cullen, of all the nice places in west Ferelden you could have taken a lady and you decide a view of Ferelden’s notoriously dark mage circle was the perfect setting?’

‘Where did you go on your first picnic with Leliana?’ asked Cullen dryly, incapable of making merry with the king.

Alistair shrugged innocently. ‘The lilium gardens at Crestlin Castle?’

Cullen chuckled, casting an eye to Leliana. She frowned, turning away from his tormenting grin.

‘Leliana hates all flowers, aside from Marigolds.’ informed Cullen pleasantly. ‘She gets terrible hay fever from flowers, _especially lillies_. A fine choice there for a picnic.’

The king turned in surprise to Leliana who threw him a meek smile.

‘The pollen irritates me.’ she confessed.

‘You never said a word!?’ protested Alistair in amusement.

Leliana bit her lip with a grin. ‘Well I couldn’t when I was sneezing the entire time, could I?’ she laughed ‘Besides, you made such an effort I didn’t want to ruin it.’

Alistair lifted her hand and kissed it affectionately. ‘Silly goose.’

Leliana’s green eyes flashed to Cullen again, a sinister curl growing on her lip. ‘While our Knight-Commander here may be an expert on my allergies, I’m also somewhat of an expert on him. _Cullen doesn’t do picnics_. In fact he hates loathes them with an undying passion.’

‘He does do picnics.’ argued Rose a little less warmly, realising Leliana wasn’t being as friendly as she believed.

‘He doesn’t.’ replied Leliana flatly.

The Knight-Commander shifted impatiently in his seat, pouring more ale into his flagon as a distraction.

‘As fascinating as this debate is, evidently I do _do picnics_ because Rose and I have been on several.’ Cullen muttered.

‘We never went on any?’ observed Leliana casually, causing Rose’s expression to sour even more. ‘Not once. When we were together Cullen I distinctly recall you saying over the years that romantic picnics were…’. Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall what he had said. Snapping her fingers, she smiled in glee as she recalled his words. ‘… _created by men to lure women into their beds._’

Cassandra and Alistair raised his brows in silent amusement as Cullen glared angrily at Leliana.

‘You agreed with me at the time.’ observed Cullen dryly, his amber eyes drawing sternly to hers. ‘You and I, Leliana, always ridiculed the concept of _courting_. You went so far as to agree the entire concept of courting someone was likened to a trail of treats that leads to the witches hut where all men inevitably get eaten up alive.’

Leliana threw Cullen a dirty look as he toasted silently with a smirk.

‘It’s good to see after all these years you both haven’t changed.’ observed Cassandra flatly. 

‘Do they ever stop bickering?’ Alistair muttered under his breath.

‘Usually, no.’ replied Cassandra.

Keen to change the subject, Rose lifted up the bread basket to the uncomfortably quiet Knight-Captain sitting beside her.

‘Arrus, here have some bread.’ encouraged Rose. ‘It’s delicious.’

Arrus threw her a sympathetic smile, accepting a bannock as Rose turned her back on the rest of the party and settled in for a long conversation with the Knight-Captain.

***

Taking a moment from the hustle and bustle of the hall, Jowan sat in the dark courtyard of Skyhold as he watched several drunken Templars attempting to play a game of petanque outside _The Herald’s Rest_. The ball accidently hurled into a bush and a sloshed templar staggered into the thicket, getting caught by several branches and yelling out in drunken cries that he needed rescuing.

Jowan rolled his eyes, refusing to come to his aid.

‘So the misanthrope meets the house wine.’ observed an amused woman’s voice.

Jowan chuckled, lifting his head to see Cassandra walking down the steps from the main hall towards him. His eyes lingered on her figure in a form fitting white jacket and pants before falling to his wine swiftly.

‘We throw a feast for the king and serve Cabot’s house wine.’ observed Jowan sarcastically, lifting his goblet in a silent toast. ‘Do you think Alistair got the message?’

‘He never gets the message.’ muttered Cassandra, sitting beside the mage. Her eyes caught Jowan’s and she revealed an amused grin. ‘He’s spent the night with Leliana and Cullen and having to hear their jealous bickering. I don’t think he’ll demand another feast in Skyhold for as long as he lives.’

Jowan rolled his eyes. ‘Meanwhile on my end of the table I had to sit next to a chevalier wooing his lover all night.’

The woman laughed as Jowan groaned in agony.

‘_Mon Cherie, your beauty makes the heavens weep stars that I wish upon.’ _mimicked Jowan in an Orlesian accent.

‘He said that?’ laughed Cassandra. ‘Such a romantic!’

Rubbing his black hair sheepishly, Jowan shook his head. ‘Not exactly, I made that line up.’

The Seeker playfully shoved the mage in the arm. ‘Watch out Michel de Chevin.’. Cassandra nodded in satisfaction. ‘I told you Michel would come back to lay the final blow.’ she observed. ‘What better way to get back at Cullen than swoon over his ex-lover right in front of him at dinner.’

‘They haven’t been together in years.’ lied Jowan.

Cassandra shrugged. ‘The Knight-Commander of the Templar Order is forbidden from having a relationship with mages. Yet feelings don’t just dissipate, do they?’

The mage frowned at the comment. ‘Have you talked to Varric tonight?’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’ muttered Casandra dryly. She threw Jowan a half-smile. ‘I wasn’t referring to Varric and I. I just think Cullen will always hate Michel being with Ophelia.’

Her brow furrowed as she heard a crack of thunder sound in the horizon. Light patters of rain began to fall and Cassandra sighed, realising they would have to retreat to the main hall or be drenched.

‘Do you want to take a walk?’ asked Jowan suddenly.

‘In the storm?’ smirked Cassandra. ‘Being struck by lightning isn’t going to stop you from having to work with the Templars.’

Jowan laughed, amused by her observation. ‘Well it was worth a try.’. The mage wiggled his nose mischievously as he arose. ‘If you don’t mind a little adventure come with me. I promise it’s dry and warm, and with less chances of death than a walk in the storm.’

Cassandra stood up, looking back to the keep reluctantly. ‘My duty is back there.’ she observed miserably. ‘The Divine has no time for adventures, Jowan’.

‘Yuck, I wasn’t asking _the Divine_ to take a walk.’ teased Jowan playfully. ‘I’m asking Cassandra Pentaghast. Book worm extraordinaire and expert wine connoisseur to the cheapest drops in Thedas.’

Running a hand against her cheek, Cassandra appeared conflicted in her decision. ‘What about Alistair? I can’t abandon the king at his welcome feast.’

‘Of course you can.’ laughed Jowan. ‘That is exactly what you should be doing. Oh, unless you want to hear Cullen and Leliana bicker more? If so, you should return to the hall.’

Cassandra grinned, grabbing Jowan’s goblet of wine off him and taking a large sip. ‘Let’s go before someone forces us back into the hall.’

Jowan chuckled, leading his hand towards his study. ‘This way Cassandrus, follow me.’

****

The night progressed so fast I barely noticed the main meals cleared and dessert put before us. For hours I talked to Michel, unable to tear myself from his smiling defined jaw and statuesque elegant features. His strong arm never left my body, whether it be his fingers lacing through mine, his hand playing with my hair or his palm running along my thigh. The chevalier’s lips kept drawing back to mine, and after a while our delicate kisses grew more urgent. The unspoken wanton of fulfilling that sexual intimacy after four and a half years was apparent as our kisses grew longer and deeper.

As each kiss grew more passionate, so too did his hands edge higher up my thigh, until his fingers were lightly tracing the fabric of my undergarments and teasing me from under the table. The surprise look on my face was only met with an innocent look by the chevalier as his fingers continued to stroke the fabric covering my slit. The chevalier was clearly well practiced in the art of public carnal acts while being suitably discreet.

‘Someone is going to see you.’ I warned.

Michel placed a kiss on my lips as his finger looped into my pants and fell directly onto my mons. I moaned into the kiss as he stroked my slit with his encouraging finger.

‘It feels like warm honey down there, _da’len assan_.’ he whispered, his voice growing lower as it became drenched in lust. ‘I want to taste it. I want you, _desperately_, but if you need time-’

Pulling back from him, I laughed. ‘Time for what?’

‘Time to heal.’ explained Michel softly. His head nudged to where the Knight-Commander sat on the other end of the table, a look of reproach as he glared at the man before turning back to me. ‘Ophelia, he’s mistreated you for a long time. That takes time to recover from. If you want our intimacy to go slower, or not at all, then I support you and I understand. Don’t think I expect anything from you, my heart.’

‘No.’ I whispered, placing a finger on his lips. ‘Michel, I’m not going to lie and say my past relationship with Cullen hasn’t affected me. Stupidly I made a decision too lightly to be with him again.’

‘And that is why as much as I want to make love to you right now, I refuse to pressure you into anything at the risk of making you feel that way ever again.’ explained Michel. ‘You have my love, respect _and patience_.’

A heavy weight fell upon me as I recalled how callous Cullen had treated our relationship. Shamefully I had let him treat me as an object for his gratification only to be discarded in the end. Looking to the chevalier, I knew what I wanted was before me.

‘Thank you _mar’alath_, I appreciate that. But I don’t need time. I want to be with you tonight.’

Michel leaned over and placed another kiss on my lips, gentle and drawn out. ‘I want you to always feel safe around me.’ he whispered. ‘I will always make you feel safe and loved.’. The chevalier ran his hand gently along my waist, pulling me closer to him. ‘You know I will always look after you.’

Wrapping my arms around the chevalier, I drew to his body. ‘I do feel safe and loved around you.’. My eyes turned to Rose, glaring at me from across the table as I embraced her ex-husband. ‘What about you, Michel? Rose was your wife not so long ago and you loved her. Perhaps you need time also?’

‘I don’t.’ Michel reassured with a gentle laugh. ‘_Mon dieu_, her actions severed any love I felt, and has only guided my way back to you. I am so happy for it.’. His blue eyes drew into mine as his hands ran across my arms. ‘You have no idea how happy I am right now. I never thought I’d feel this kind of love again. But to be here with you…it’s perfect _da’len assan_.’

Feeling butterflies in my stomach, I knew I felt the same way about the chevalier. ‘Perhaps we should go to sleep now?’ I whispered.

‘Of course, it has been a long day.’ agreed Michel. ‘You must be tired?’

‘Not at all.’ I grinned. ‘Are you?’

The chevalier covered his mischievous smile as his hand rubbed his jaw bashfully. ‘I’ve ridden up the Frostback Mountains and spent the afternoon training. I’m completely exhausted but sleep is the last thing on my mind.’

Placing a kiss on my lips, the chevalier gently explored each kiss with a soft lash of his warm tongue that parted my lips.

‘I want to make love to you.’ he confessed.

Placing a soft kiss on his hand, I knew I felt the same. ‘Michel, let’s get out of here. Cabot has set up his bar practically in my chambers, and it’s blocked off, so we can’t there but…oh blast it, you’re sleeping in Varric’s tavern now.’

‘There is certainly no privacy in the backroom of Varric’s tavern.’ sighed Michel. He patted his lip in contemplation before turning back to me with a smile. ‘This is not a problem; I have another place in mind. Come with me.’

‘


End file.
